Chapter 2
“Ms. Smith, Mr. Smith is severely anemic. He could go into shock at any time and needs proper rest,” a passing nurse said, unable to bear the scene. She tried to dissuade Racquelle, but Racquelle merely shot me a scornful look and sneered. “You don’t understand. Joshua would do anything for money. He’s perfectly happy being our family’s dog. If you need anything, please order him around—don’t worry about his well-being.”
The nurse looked at me, her gaze a mixture of pity and disbelief. To outsiders, I was the scion of the Smith family and a competent general manager of the Smith Group. Yet, Racquelle’s words rendered me worthless. She looked at me coldly and asked arrogantly, “Isn’t that right, Joshua?”
A sharp pain gripped my chest, forcing a cough. The anemia induced dizziness. Racquelle, irritated, grabbed my arm. “Why are you pretending to be pitiful after losing a little blood? If you weren’t still useful, I wouldn’t even want to look at someone as filthy as you!” She tightened her grip, bruising my arm and drawing blood. I grunted in pain, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath. She released me with disgust, ordering icily, “Do as I say while I’m still willing to talk to you civilly! If anything happens to Vernon, I’ll make sure something happens to your sister, too!”
Her contempt was palpable. Julianna’s rare, incurable condition—the first documented case in the country—depended on life support and the Hill family’s research investment. Racquelle’s interference could extinguish Julianna’s last hope. I couldn’t risk it. Enduring the pain, I nodded. “I’ll… I’ll go right away.”
Taking Racquelle’s car keys, I went to The Heritage. The waiter apologized, “I’m sorry, sir. We’re out of salmon congee.”
“What? Can you make some if I get the ingredients?”
Seeing my desperation, he agreed. I rushed out, searching for salmon. The late hour and torrential rain made finding fresh salmon impossible. I braved the downpour, attempting to reach the shore to catch some myself, but dizziness overcame me, and I collapsed.
When I awoke, a doctor, summoned by the restaurant, stood beside me. “You have severe anemia, leading to poor heart function and coagulation issues. You need to rest and can’t donate blood anymore.”
“Thank you. I understand,” I replied, dismissing his concern.
The waiter shouted angrily, “You’re insane! Are you trying to kill yourself?”
I laughed bitterly. If I didn’t bring the congee, Racquelle might kill me. I had one month until her twentieth birthday, a month of forced blood donations—Julianna’s life depended on it. I dared not fail.
After the doctor left, I paid the restaurant to procure salmon and make the congee. I rushed back to the hospital. Racquelle was gently feeding Vernon fruit. Seeing me, she threw her knife at my face. I dodged it, but she slapped me. “You useless idiot. Why did it take you so long? Are you trying to make Vernon sick with cold congee? How vicious can you be?”