Chapter 2 - The Crimson Thread
Dr. Vance walked up the porch steps, his eyes darting between my parents and Leo.
"Arthur, Eleanor," Julian said, nodding stiffly. He clearly remembered them from his medical rounds a decade ago. "I see Emma has finally told you."
"Julian?" my mother gasped. "What is going on? Is this true? Is this boy... is he built from us?"
"He is Arthur’s genetic match," Julian confirmed grimly. "But we have a much bigger problem right now. Emma, you turned off your phone. I've been driving from Cleveland for three hours trying to reach you. The laboratory re-evaluated the anonymous donor’s updated medical history last week."
My blood ran cold. I forgot about my parents' betrayal. I forgot about the ten years of hardship. All that mattered was my son. "What's wrong with Leo? Is he sick?"
Leo gripped my jeans, sensing the rising panic. "Mom, you're hurting my hand." I instantly loosened my grip, kneeling down to kiss his forehead. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Go sit in the living room for just a minute, okay? Let me talk to the adults."
Leo looked at Arthur, then at Eleanor, before slowly walking into the house. My parents watched him move, their expressions a mix of profound guilt and sudden, terrifying awe.
"Speak, Julian," Arthur commanded, though his voice shook. The authoritative father figure was crumbling. "What is wrong with my grandson?"
Grandson. The word felt heavy on his tongue.
"The donor," Julian sighed, rubbing his temples. "When we selected his profile ten years ago, he was perfectly healthy. But three years ago, he developed an aggressive form of hereditary autoimmune deficiency. It’s a genetic ticking clock. Because Leo shares fifty percent of his DNA, there is a strong probability the mutation has activated in him. We ran his routine school bloodwork last month, Emma. That's why I flagged it."
I felt the world tilt beneath my feet. I had sacrificed my youth, my relationship with my family, and my stability to bring this boy into the world to save my father. And now, my boy was the one who needed saving.
"What is the cure?" Eleanor asked, stepping forward, her maternal instincts suddenly overriding her decade-long shock. "There must be a treatment. We have money. We can pay for whatever he needs!"
Julian looked at Arthur, then back at me. "The irony is cruel, Eleanor. The only way to stabilize Leo’s immune system if the mutation triggers is a targeted cellular therapy using the DNA of a direct genetic ascendant who has beaten a similar immune crisis. Arthur... your survival of your kidney failure through that experimental drug therapy ten years ago created the exact antibodies Leo needs."
A bitter laugh escaped my throat.
Ten years ago, my father threw me out because I refused to abort the baby meant to save him.
Now, ten years later, that very baby needed my father to save him.
Arthur looked down at his trembling hands. The weight of his past cruelty was suffocating him. He had spent ten years hating his daughter, only to find out she had been trying to save his life—and now, he held the key to her son's survival.
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"Do it," Arthur said without hesitation. "Take whatever you need from me. Take my blood, my marrow, my life. Just save him."
"It's not that simple," Julian said quietly. "Arthur, your health is fragile. Giving up the required amount of cellular material could put you in a coma. You might not wake up."
