Too Late to Save Me

I was the real son, finally found and brought back by my billionaire parents, only to be diagnosed with leukemia right after.

The only person who matched my bone marrow was the adopted son, Doug Daniel.

So my parents rushed to bring him back into the family, making him my donor.

To make it up to him, they did everything they could for him. My parents handed over the inheritance. My fiancée, Moira Stevens, hovered around him every day.

When the pain got so bad that I could barely stand it, my parents pointed at me and snapped,

"Jay! You keep bringing up your illness. Are you really that eager to take away Doug's health?"

Moira, a medical school professor, didn't hold back either.

"I'm a doctor. You think I don't understand your condition? You act like you're dying every single day. You just can't stand that we're being nice to Doug."

On the day of the transplant, I lay on the operating table and waited. But Moira, the one in charge of harvesting Doug's marrow, never came in.

I closed my eyes and waited for death.

None of them knew I had already signed up to donate my body.

"Your condition is getting worse. If we don't move forward with the bone marrow transplant soon, you may not make it another month."

The doctor stood by my bed, his expression serious.

"We still haven't found a suitable donor."

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my chest and kept quiet.

There was a match, but my fiancée Moira Stevens couldn't bear to put the donor through it. She had filed to handle the procedure herself two weeks ago, then kept delaying it.

Seeing me fall silent, the doctor softened his tone.

"You're only 25. The success rate for this surgery is very high. Try not to worry too much. You don't seem to have family with you right now. You should let them know. This can't be put off any longer."

I nodded numbly, clutching my file, and went home.

The moment I pushed the door open, I saw my parents sitting on either side of Doug Daniel, their adopted son. Moira stood behind him, gently working his shoulders.

Something in my chest tightened for some reason.

They looked happy, so happy that it hurt to watch.

I walked over slowly, my fingers trembling around the file. None of them looked at me, but I still forced myself to speak.

"Dad, Mom, Moira… The doctor said my condition's getting worse. If I don't get the transplant soon…"

I didn't finish.

My mom shot me a look full of disgust. "Jay! You keep bringing up your illness. Are you really that eager to take away Doug's health? If he hadn't been kind enough to volunteer, we wouldn't even…"

She stopped herself. I opened my mouth to explain, but Doug spoke first, his voice tight with emotion.

"Mom, Dad, I know Jay has always blamed me for living the life that should've been his. At this point, forget marrow. Even if I had to drain all my blood to save him, I'd do it. I owe him that. If he's in such a hurry, we should schedule the surgery."

As soon as he finished, my parents pulled him into their arms, hearts aching for him.

Moira used to look at me like I was her whole world. Now, all I saw in her eyes was cold indifference.

"Jay, when did you get so calculating? You bring up your condition every other day. I'm a doctor. You think I don't understand your condition? You act like you're dying every single day. You just can't stand that we're being nice to Doug. You want everyone's attention on you. That's selfish!"

"I'm not," I said quickly.

My dad snapped, "Go back to your room! Can't you see Doug's upset? He's already willing to go through the pain of donating marrow for you. What else do you want?"

My chest went cold.

I turned and walked back to the guest room.

When I first came home, they had held me and cried, afraid I would feel out of place. They even asked Doug to move out so I could settle in.

They decorated the master bedroom just for me. For the first time, I felt like I had a home.

The day I was diagnosed, my mom fainted from crying. My dad held my shoulders, barely holding it together. Moira arranged a compatibility test right away between me and Doug, her childhood friend.

She had told me, "In this world, no one matters more to me than you."

After they brought Doug back, saying they wanted to make it up to him, everything changed.

They believed everything he said. They pushed me aside.

They made me give up the master bedroom. They handed him the inheritance. They looked at me with disgust and treated him like he could do no wrong.

When my condition acted up, when I could barely breathe and blood kept pouring from my nose and mouth, they said I was just being dramatic.

As I thought about it now, something in me finally went still.

If that was how it was, then I didn't want Doug's bone marrow anymore.