Severing Ties of Blood and Marrow

In my past life, the only person who ever showed me an ounce of affection was my fiancé, Sterling.

To my family, I was nothing more than an exclusive bone marrow bank for my sister, Veronica.

But Sterling remembered that I liked vanilla lattes and dreamed of being a designer.

He was the only warmth in my bleak existence.

He even presented me with an engagement ring, promising to protect me forever.

In that moment, I thought I had finally found my light.

But it was only on my deathbed that I realized all of Sterling’s kindness was built on a single condition: my willingness to be a living bone marrow bank for Veronica.

His promises were just a tool to control me.

After I was reborn, the first thing I did was use the five-hundred-million-dollar trust fund the Sterling family had given me to buy a secluded island.

I just wanted to disappear.

But just when I thought I was finally free, why were my family and Sterling so desperate to have me back?

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1

The first thing I did after my rebirth was call a lawyer. I was using the five-hundred-million-dollar trust fund the Sterling family had established for me to purchase a secluded island. That money was their compensation for my years of service as a "bone marrow donor" for my sister, Veronica.

In my past life, it wasn't until I lay dying that I understood what a pathetic joke my life had been. My parents adopted me for one reason: to be a walking, talking blood bank for my sister, Veronica, and her rare form of bone marrow failure. My brother, Felix, only ever had eyes for Veronica, who would cry at the drop of a hat. "Felix," she’d whine, "Clara just pushed me. She said I was a burden." And my fiancé, Sterling—all his tenderness was built on my willingness to be a donor for Veronica.

I once thought he was my light. He’d remember I had a weak stomach and secretly leave a glass of warm milk for me after a bone marrow aspiration. He’d remember me idly mentioning my dream of "finding a quiet place to design." But all that gentleness shattered in the face of Veronica's tears. On my deathbed, I heard Veronica whisper to him, "Sterling, please, if you let Clara go, I'll die without her bone marrow. You can't let her know you care about her, or she'll throw a fit and try to leave me."

"Miss Hawthorne, are you certain about this?" the lawyer handling the paperwork asked, his expression bewildered. "Once you purchase this island and take up residence, you'll be almost completely cut off from the outside world."

I nodded, a hint of relief in my voice. "That's exactly what I want. A place where no one can find me."

But before I could even sign the papers, a black Bentley screeched to a halt right in front of me.

The car door flew open. Sterling strode toward me, the tips of his fingers ghostly pale. He grabbed my wrist, his touch surprisingly light, yet his fingers trembled with an almost imperceptible panic. "Clara, come with me, quickly. Veronica, she..."

Before he could finish, Veronica's tearful voice crackled through his phone. "Sterling, I fell down the stairs, it hurts so much... Is Clara still mad at me? Is she refusing to see me?"

My blood ran cold. In my past life, that same cry had tricked me into rushing to the hospital. This time, however, I remembered with chilling clarity. As I was leaving that morning, I had watched Veronica deliberately step on the hem of her own dress, "accidentally" tumbling down the steps in front of Sterling, even shooting a quick glance in my direction before she fell.

"Sterling..." I began, wanting to see if he would show even a flicker of hesitation.

He missed the warning in my voice completely. He just pulled me toward the car, his eyes scanning my face as he asked softly, "Why do you look so pale?"

Just then, Veronica's sobs intensified over the phone. "Sterling, I don't think I can hold on..."

Sterling hesitated for a split second, but his resolve crumbled, and he pushed me into the back seat.

The car sped to the family's private clinic. As he led me toward the bone marrow aspiration room, his fingertips gently stroked my wrist, as if he were afraid of hurting me.

"Veronica took a bad fall. Her platelet count is dropping fast. We won't take too much this time, don't worry," Sterling's voice was hoarse. I saw him secretly motion to the therapist, his lips forming the words, "Take less. Don't hurt her."

But before the therapist could nod, a sharp slap landed across my face. "You heartless thing! Where did you run off to? Didn't I tell you to stay by your sister's side at all times?"

Veronica immediately rushed to grab our mother's hand. "Mom, don't hit Clara," she pleaded, her eyes already red. "It must be my fault. Yesterday, I told Clara I wanted her to go to the art gallery with me. She probably got annoyed and hid from me..." As she spoke, her nails dug into my arm, the pain so sharp it made me gasp.

My father, restraining my furious mother, looked at me with crushing disappointment. "Clara, why must you be so defiant? Veronica is this sick, and you're still acting out? Last time she told me you hid her special medication, I didn't believe her, but now..."

"I didn't!" I finally snapped, only to be cut off by my brother, Felix. He was carefully handing Veronica a glass of warm water, not even sparing me a glance. "You didn't hide it? Then how did Veronica's medicine end up on your vanity? Maybe we should just lock you in your room so you'll stop trying to hurt her."

I was stunned. Veronica had given me that medicine the night before, saying, "Clara, this makes me feel sick. Can you hold onto it for me?" She had been setting me up all along.

Sterling frowned, as if he wanted to say something, but Veronica suddenly started coughing violently. She covered her face and cried, "Sterling, am I too much trouble? If I were gone, everyone would have it so much easier, wouldn't they..."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sterling cut her off, then turned to me, his expression pleading. "Clara, let's just get the aspiration done for Veronica. We can talk about everything else later, okay?"

As the thick needle pierced my iliac bone, a sickening drain began, pulling the life from my body. My vision started to blur. The therapist frowned. "Mr. Prescott, Miss Clara's body is too weak. Any more could permanently damage her body's ability to produce blood cells."

Veronica immediately said, "It's okay, I'll use less. Don't hurt Clara..." But her hand secretly pressed on the therapist's arm, her voice a low hiss only they could hear. "Take more, or I'll just have to get 'injured' again soon."

I forced my eyes open and saw Sterling suddenly grab the therapist's hand, yanking the needle out. "That's enough. No more."

My mother shrieked, "Sterling! Have you lost your mind? Veronica is waiting for that marrow! Clara is just faking it—she’s perfectly fine!"

"I'm not faking..." My voice trembled, but no one believed me. Felix even stormed over and grabbed my arm. "Stop playing the victim. You're going for another round!"

When the clinic door opened, Veronica leaned "weakly" into Sterling's arms and looked at me. "Clara, I'm sorry, did I make you suffer? If you don't want to donate, I... I can hold on."

Those words were like fuel on a fire. My parents grew angrier, and even Sterling's expression clouded over. He probably thought I was bullying a sick person.

A mocking laugh escaped my lips. I gritted my teeth against the searing pain, straightened my clothes, and stood tall. I walked toward the exit. Outside, I stared at the brilliant engagement ring on my finger. I remembered what Sterling had said when he gave it to me: "Clara, when Veronica is a little better, I'll take you to that beach you love so much."

It turned out he remembered everything. He just didn't realize that Veronica would never "get better."

Without a second thought, I pulled the ring from my finger and tossed it into the nearest trash can.

In this life, I would never again be fooled by Veronica's tears, nor would I ever again hope for my family's love.

Since everyone loved Veronica and no one loved Clara, then I would just have to love myself.