When he saw me roll in, his eyes widened, flashing with fear mixed with lingering contempt. Even facing death, his ego was bigger than his life.
“Came… to watch me die?” he wheezed through the oxygen mask, his voice raspy and weak.
I rolled the wheelchair right up to the bedside rail, looking down at him. I felt no pity. Only a brutal clarity.
“No, Mark,” I said calmly. “I came to tell you a funny truth. The ‘thing’ you just slapped, the ‘thing’ you disowned and called a bastard… is the only reason you are still breathing.”
Mark’s eyes wavered. “What… are you talking about?”
“The doctor says you need stem cells. And the only person on this earth compatible with you is your son. The son you just threw away.”
He froze. The heart monitor began to beep faster, betraying the panic rising in his chest. He knew I wasn’t lying. He was a logical man, and he understood the cruel irony of fate.
“Save… me…” He whispered, his trembling hand trying to reach for me.
I didn’t take his hand. Instead, I pulled a piece of paper from my hospital gown pocket. It wasn’t a polished legal document; it was a handwritten note I had hastily asked the nurse to draft based on my memory of property law.
“I will save you,” I said, placing the paper on his chest. “But this is the price.”
Mark glanced at the paper, his eyes bulging. “You… you want me to sign over… the majority shares? And full custody? You’re blackmailing me.”
“I’m securing my son’s future,” I corrected him, my voice sharp as a razor. “You emptied my purse on the floor, Mark. You stomped on my phone. You intended to leave me and my child to starve in the street. I’m just making sure that never happens again.”
