Silas's POV
My thoughts drifted to my precious daughter again. Weeks had passed since I walked into that sterile hospital room and found her motionless form beneath the white sheet. The drunk driver who stole her life sat behind bars now, but his punishment felt hollow. Nothing could bring back her laughter or the way she used to run into my arms after school. That realization lodged itself deep in my chest like a bullet I couldn't remove.
The small boy trembled in my arms, his face contorting with pain. He couldn't have been older than two, with copper hair now darkened by his mother's blood. I could have walked away and left them for the paramedics who were arriving. But watching how desperately she had shielded him with her body, how she had wrapped herself around him like armor, something inside me cracked open. This child deserved a fighting chance.
The moment the emergency room staff spotted the boy in my arms, they swarmed us with practiced efficiency. A nurse reached for him immediately. "We'll handle this from here," she said, but I barely heard her over the chaos. They transferred him onto a gurney with movements that spoke of years dealing with tragedies like this one.
Then I saw the woman properly for the first time. Her skin had turned an alarming shade of gray, and her breathing came in shallow, desperate gasps. She looked like someone who had poured every ounce of strength into protecting what mattered most and had nothing left to give.
"Get another gurney over here now," I shouted, my voice cutting through the noise. Someone must have heard the urgency because within seconds they had her on a stretcher too, rushing her toward the treatment rooms.
A bystander near the entrance pressed her hand to her mouth. "Dear God, all that blood," she whispered, and her horror made the entire waiting area feel suffocating. I stood frozen, completely out of my element. All I could think about was my daughter and how different things might have been if a stranger had stepped in for her that terrible night. That thought anchored me to this spot.
A nurse appeared at my elbow, guiding me toward the reception desk. Dark stains covered my expensive suit, and the sight made my stomach turn. "Sir, we need your signature on these forms," she explained, sliding papers across the counter. "The mother requires emergency surgery, and the boy needs an immediate blood transfusion."
My signature for two people I had never met before today. The logical part of my mind questioned this decision, but my hand was already moving across the page. Every second I hesitated could cost them their lives.
The hospital administrator cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, but we require a deposit before proceeding with certain procedures," she said, her fingers dancing across her tablet screen. Even in the middle of a medical crisis, bureaucracy demanded its pound of flesh. "The transfer needs to clear before we can authorize non-emergency treatments and specialized equipment."
"Start everything immediately. I'm transferring the funds right now," I said. Felix appeared beside me with my phone already in hand. I completed the mobile banking transaction without checking the amount, hearing the confirmation ping almost instantly. Money meant nothing if these two didn't survive.
Minutes later, the same nurse returned with urgency written across her face. "Sir, the boy has a rare blood type. Finding a compatible donor could take hours we don't have. Would you be willing to get tested as a potential match?"
I wasn't their family. I didn't owe them anything beyond what I had already done. The rational voice in my head screamed at me to step back and let the hospital handle this crisis. But the broken part of me, the piece that still woke up crying for my little girl, wouldn't let me walk away. If some stranger had donated blood to save my daughter, she might be planning her next birthday party instead of lying cold in the ground.
"Test me," I said without hesitation. "If I'm compatible, take whatever you need."
The blood draw was swift and clinical, more routine than I had expected. Felix watched the process with a tight expression, clearly questioning my judgment. "Are you certain about this?" he asked quietly.
I pressed my fingers against my temples, trying to ease the tension building there. "I have to see this through," I replied, my voice hoarse from shouting at the accident scene. "I need to know they're going to be okay before I can leave this place."
The donation process left me feeling strangely empty but purposeful. At least I was doing something concrete instead of standing around helplessly.
An hour later, Dr. Simon emerged from the operating theater, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. "Mr. VALERIUS'Empire," he said, approaching with measured steps. "The surgery was successful. The boy's vitals are stable now. His mother remains in critical condition but she's fighting. We'll need to monitor them closely for the next few weeks."
Relief hit me like a physical blow, making my knees weak. There was nothing elegant about this feeling, just raw gratitude that they had survived.
After Dr. Simon left, Felix handed me a shattered phone he had retrieved from the accident scene. The screen was completely spider-webbed, but it was still intact. I slipped it into my jacket pocket without really thinking about why.
Two days later, I returned to the hospital. I needed proof that they were truly alive and recovering, not just names in some medical report. At the reception desk, I placed the broken phone on the counter.
"If any family members call looking for her, please tell them about the accident and that they're being treated here," I said.
The receptionist looked puzzled. "Sir, you're not related to these patients?"
"No, I was just there when it happened," I explained.
She exchanged a meaningful look with a nearby nurse. "Hazel, didn't you mention something about the blood work?"
My stomach dropped. "What blood work?"
Hazel stepped forward, her expression serious. "Before the transfusion, we ran compatibility tests on your blood sample. The results showed genetic markers that prompted us to run a DNA comparison. The test came back with a ninety-nine point nine nine percent match. That level of certainty is only possible if the child is your biological son."
The words slammed into me like a freight train. I stared at both women as if they had just told me the earth was flat. "That's impossible. I've never seen either of them before in my life."