Chapter 3 - The Blood Test Revelation"Time of death: 2:14 AM."
The words echoed in the sterile silence of the ICU, washing over me like icy water.
We had fought for forty-five minutes. Adrenaline, defibrillation, massive transfusions—everything in our medical arsenal. But Mariana’s body, already hollowed out by days of starvation, exhaustion, and childbirth trauma, simply gave up.
She took her secrets with her into the dark.
Or so I thought.
Exhausted, shaking, and sick to my stomach, I walked back to the pediatric ward. Sofia was still asleep, curled into a tight ball next to her baby brothers' incubators. The sight of her—my supposed blood? No, I pushed the thought away. It was impossible. Mariana had lied, or her mind had snapped under the pressure.
Yet, an invisible hook dragged me toward the nurses' station.
"Lupita," I whispered, my voice raspy.
The senior nurse looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and exhausted. "Doctor? You should go home. You look like a ghost. Mariana..."
"I know," I interrupted. "Listen to me. Sofia’s intake files... where are they?"
Lupita frowned, sensing the manic edge in my tone. "They're right here. Why? Do you need social services to expedite the foster paperwork?"
"The lab work. The routine CBC and blood typing we did when she came in with the frostbite and wounds. Where is it?"
Lupita pulled up the tablet on the counter, swiping through the digital records. "Right here. Patient Sofia Morales. Blood type... wait." She paused, frowning at the screen.
"What?" I leaned over her shoulder, my breath catching in my throat.
"That's strange," Lupita muttered. "The lab system flagged an automatic parental verification check because of the emergency admission protocol for abandoned minors. Look at the genetic marker cross-reference."
My eyes scanned the glowing numbers.
Paternity Match Index: 99.98%. Blood Type: A-Negative.
My own blood type. My own rare genetic markers.
The world tilted on its axis. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting long, distorted shadows across the hallway. Sofia wasn't just a child assigned to my ER. She was my daughter. A daughter I never knew existed, hidden away in a shack by the broken bridge for seven years while Mariana ran in terror from a shadow I couldn't yet see.
"Doctor?" Lupita whispered, staring at my pale face. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a corpse."
Before I could answer, heavy footsteps echoed down the silent corridor.
Three men in sharp, charcoal-gray suits turned the corner, walking with an effortless, predatory authority. At the center of them was a tall, silver-haired man with a cold, immaculate smile and eyes as dead as winter steel.
Victor Vance.
May you like
He stopped directly in front of the nurses' station, his gaze sweeping over the room before locking onto mine with chilling precision.
"Dr. Rivera," Vance said, his voice smooth as silk. "I heard we had an emergency admission tonight. A tragic situation with a poor local mother." He smiled, stepping closer. "Tell me... did she happen to leave you anything before she passed?"
