The Day of My Son’s Transplant

The Bitter Truth

Liam had been Noah's doctor from the beginning. He cared deeply for him, often saying Noah was the most well-behaved and cooperative patient he had ever seen.

Over the phone, his voice was filled with exasperation. "Mr. Shaw, I can't fathom how you can call yourself a father. How could you be unreachable during such a crucial time for the bone marrow transplant?

"Do you realize how much Noah suffered before he died? If you weren't going to show up, you should've told us sooner so we could find another donor. You've essentially let your son die.

"I've never known a father like you," he added, his words cutting like a knife.

Daniel's phone slipped from his grasp, his face draining of color. He lunged at me, grabbing my collar in desperation. "Noah… How could he die? Why didn't you come looking for me? What kind of mother just lets this happen?"

My hand flew, striking his face with all the force of my anger. "Go looking for you? How? Your phone was off, your location was hidden, and no one—not even your family—knew where you were!"

My voice dripped with contempt. "The surgery date was set long ago. If you cared even a bit about Noah, you wouldn't have gone missing! Daniel, you're not fit to be his father."

That was the first time I had ever laid a hand on him. "That slap was for Noah. He spent his final moments staring at the hospital room door, hoping his father would show up."

My voice trembled with disgust and fury as I continued, "You chose to be with someone else and her unborn child. So, you turned off your phone and forgot that Noah needed your bone marrow to survive."

Daniel staggered back, trying to gather his wits. "No… it's not like that… It's not."

I closed my eyes, memories of those final moments flashing before me.

Noah asked in his tiny voice, "Mom, where's Dad? I want to play horse riding with Dad again." That game was one of the few times Daniel had ever shown him affection.

My teeth clenched at the memory. We had all searched in vain. Daniel had simply vanished.

When I opened my eyes again, they were bloodshot, fury boiling beneath the surface. "His last wish was to see you. But you missed it. You missed his final hope, the last chance for a transplant. Now that it's too late, why are you here?"

"I… I didn't know it would turn out like this. I swear, I didn't know…"

Without a word, I walked inside and returned with Noah's urn.

Setting it down in front of Daniel, I said, "One week, Daniel. Noah's been gone for a week. I thought you'd at least want to see him one last time, to fulfill your role as a 'loving father.'"

Daniel's gaze landed on the urn, horror draining the color from his face as he staggered back. Vivian rushed forward to support him, and she glared at me.

"Sophie, the dead can't be brought back to life. It's not Daniel's fault Noah had leukemia. Why blame him? Or maybe you'd like to blame yourself for not taking good enough care of him in the first place?"

I met her gaze, my eyes filled with loathing.

I had stayed silent through all the ways they had flaunted their relationship, through her feigned innocence.

But now?

Now, my son was dead, and I would not stay quiet.

I stepped closer, my voice ice-cold. "Don't be so quick to defend Daniel. When his parents find out that their grandson died because of you, let's see what you have to say then."

She flinched, backing up a few steps, her face twisting in panic. "What are you talking about? I had nothing to do with it!"

I glared at her, my hatred burning hot.

Vivian was the Shaws' adopted daughter, but to the world, her relationship with Daniel was far from innocent.

They had been lovers in secret, their relationship barely hidden under the guise of sibling affection.

When Daniel's parents found out, they forced them apart, pressing Daniel into an immediate marriage and exiling Vivian overseas.

I had once been the CEO's assistant, handpicked by Daniel's father to become his son's wife. "You're capable, Sophie," he had said. "Beautiful, and Daniel likes you. He's just lost his way for now."

"If you marry him," he had promised, "we'll cover all of your grandmother's treatment costs."

I had accepted, biting my lip at the thought of the massive medical bills hanging over me. In the end, I had married into the Shaws—not out of love, but out of necessity.