CHAPTER 29: CHAPTER 29: PRESIDENT XAVIER, STILL DRAWING BLOOD?

"Hmm, sell it."

I answered without hesitation.

Originally, I thought Timothy Xavier’s love for me was like this necklace, unique and irreplaceable.

But Timothy has changed, and our marriage has rotted, making this token of love seem ironic.

Jenna Sutton helped me sell the jewelry, paid for my mom’s medical expenses, and then sent Timothy Xavier and Doris’s samples to a well-known paternity testing institution in Veridia.

...

Two days later, the test results came out.

Doris and Timothy Xavier’s biological parentage is 99.99%, they indeed are biological father and daughter.

Even though I had long been aware of this outcome.

But when I looked at the densely packed characters on the paternity test document, memories of all the moments between me and Timothy Xavier from childhood flashed across my mind.

We were once so, so good, but everything changed the moment Doris was born three years ago.

I’m no longer the most important person to Timothy Xavier but have been easily relegated to the backdrop.

"Hmm, this result is quite good."

I smiled and told Jenna Sutton, "Keep it for me. If it’s found by Timothy Xavier, he definitely won’t let me off easily."

Jenna Sutton held the test result as if it were a treasure, saying, "Not bad! Halfway to success! Think of a way and quickly get Sylvia Sawyer’s samples, hair or nails will do. Once her and Doris’s paternity test results come out, Timothy Xavier and Sylvia Sawyer will be firmly nailed to the pillar of shame as adulterers. In court, they won’t be able to argue their way out!"

...

I had only taken a week’s leave from the company, although the doctor said my foot needs at least three months of rest.

But the company can’t wait, and I can’t wait either.

After all, next Wednesday, my brother is going to bring Sylvia Sawyer back to The Ellison Family, how can I miss the drama?

So I planned to be discharged from the hospital on Monday, and if I’m not mistaken, Timothy Xavier will definitely return before Wednesday.

After all, the leading lady is about to head to another venue, and I guess he couldn’t fully enjoy himself with an old and a young one at Disney.

But what I didn’t expect was that Timothy Xavier and his group returned earlier than I imagined.

They came back on Sunday night.

The reason for their early return was that Doris had a slight fever while in Port Matheson.

When the plane landed in Veridia and Doris was taken to the hospital, her fever wouldn’t subside, and she was diagnosed with malaria.

Not only that, but now her situation is extremely dangerous, having developed sepsis.

This information was what Jenna Sutton gathered when Timothy Xavier asked for leave for the child.

I was quite surprised, but I didn’t plan to let them affect my own matters.

"Jenna, I still plan to be discharged tomorrow. As for them, no matter what happens, it has nothing to do with me."

I originally intended to stick to the plan and have Jenna Sutton help me with the discharge.

But on Monday morning, Jenna Sutton, who was supposed to help me with the discharge, called me and said, "Zoe, I probably can’t make it today. Our kindergarten is holding a field trip this week, and it’s out of town. One of the teachers fell ill, so I have to take over. How about you wait a few days, and I’ll help you when I return, okay?"

"Well... okay."

I didn’t want Jenna Sutton to delay her work for me, so I agreed.

It wasn’t until Timothy Xavier appeared in front of me that I realized Jenna Sutton’s trip wasn’t coincidental but arranged by Timothy Xavier to send her away.

He appeared in my ward, saying gravely, "Doris is now suffering from sepsis and severe anemia. Her blood type is special, the hospital blood bank doesn’t have this type, only your blood matches hers."

I looked at him in disbelief and said, "You... want me to transfuse blood for her? Timothy Xavier, don’t forget, I also have anemia. I’ve been eating vegetarian with you for three years, my anemia is pretty severe too!"

A strange flash crossed Timothy Xavier’s brow, but soon he returned to his indifferent demeanor, saying, "Your anemia won’t endanger your life, but Doris needs saving now. Only you can save her!"

I dug my nails into my palm and gritted my teeth, "She’s the child of you and Sylvia Sawyer, I can’t believe neither of you have matching blood types? You want Sylvia Sawyer to transfuse blood, and you’re asking me to do it? You can forget it! Don’t expect me to save your own daughter!"

At that moment, Sylvia Sawyer suddenly rushed in from outside.

She came to my bed, suddenly knelt down, pleading with tears, "Miss Ellison, please, for Doris’s sake—she’s just a child—save her! I know she’s offended you before..."

As she spoke of this, she seemed to have remembered something and said, "By the way, didn’t you say you wanted her to kowtow and apologize to you before? I’ll kowtow; I’ll do it now..."

After saying this, Sylvia Sawyer was about to kowtow to me.

But before her head could touch the ground, Timothy Xavier pulled her up and held her in his arms.

Even his tone was a hundred times softer than when speaking to me, "What are you doing? Doris is sick, you already feel bad, why are you still torturing yourself like this?"

Sylvia Sawyer, crying, said, "If I don’t torture myself, how will Miss Ellison agree to donate blood to Doris?"

Just as she finished speaking, Timothy Xavier’s cold expression suddenly sharpened, and he looked at me, saying, "Are you willing to donate blood or not?"

I let out a cold laugh, looking at Sylvia Sawyer’s affected air, and said, "If anyone’s donating blood, it should be you two. Whoever’s the parent should save their own child!"

Timothy Xavier’s gaze turned even colder, saying, "Did you forget that your mother’s life depends on the equipment developed by Xavier Group? If you don’t want my daughter to live, then your mother can be buried with her."

"Timothy Xavier, you bastard! Are you even human? Is this your way of believing in Buddha?"

I cursed furiously, wishing I could kill him.

Faced with my fury, Timothy Xavier remained indifferent, gently holding the frail Sylvia Sawyer with one hand and turning the Buddha Beads with the other.

The Buddha Beads he fiddled with were shiny with oil, each one particularly ironic.

When I agreed, I distinctly saw that gleam of triumph and lurking malice in Serena’s eyes.

For my mother’s survival, I had no leverage to negotiate with Timothy Xavier, and was thus brought to the blood donation room.

The doctors there saw my blood routine results and reluctantly said, "President Xavier, the patient’s hemoglobin is only 80. If she donates, it could be life-threatening. If the patient must donate, as her relative, you need to sign an informed consent form."

Upon hearing the term "life-threatening," Timothy’s previously firm demeanor seemed to waver a bit. He looked at the informed consent form but hesitated.

I thought that, at least in the face of life and death, Timothy still had some compassion towards me.

At that moment, Serena tearfully reminded, "Timothy, Doris can’t wait!"

After she spoke, Timothy signed his name with a flourish.

Soon, that cold needle was piercing into my vein.

Dazed, I watched the deep red blood being drawn from my body, flowing through the slender tube into the blood bag.

At that point, the pain from the needle piercing the skin was already insignificant.

When a bag was filled, cold sweat broke out densely on my forehead, I felt dizzy and nauseous, and the chandelier on the ceiling seemed to blur into spots of light.

The doctor noticed my abnormality and said to Timothy, "President Xavier, Miss Ellison is in great danger, if the blood continues to be drawn, she might..."

Timothy frowned at the bag of blood and asked, "Is this enough for my daughter?"

"This..."

The doctor sighed and said, "There’s only 200cc here; your daughter needs at least 600cc today."

Leaning on the recliner, without Timothy’s command, the doctor dared not rashly remove the needle from my arm.

Everything seemed to slowly blur, and all my focus seemed drawn to the white fluorescent light under which Timothy’s sharp facial outline and increasingly cold eyes lay.

The doctor cautiously asked, "President Xavier, should we... continue?"

"Continue."

He only said one word, plain, yet like a knife slicing my artery, so decisive, leaving no room.

Warm blood kept being drawn from my body, while my body’s temperature dropped inch by inch.

That man who promised to love me forever, at this moment, disregarded whether I lived or died, using my blood to sustain another person.

The dizziness and discomfort made me gently close my eyes, as if cold liquid flowed from the corner of my eye.

I refuse to admit those were tears, shedding tears for him, it’s simply not worth it!

As I fell into darkness, I could hear the doctors and nurses’ panicked voices:

"The patient’s blood pressure is dropping, hurry! 1 milligram of adrenaline, push intravenously!"

"The patient’s body temperature has already dropped to 35 degrees!"

"..."

Amidst this chaos, it seemed Timothy’s command was mixed in: "I need her alive!"

I couldn’t open my eyes; my consciousness and hearing seemed to persist.

In my heart, it felt like there lived a madman, laughing to the sky.

Timothy’s command was too laughable! Each step, each word he took pushed me towards the abyss, towards death, yet when I was about to die, he demanded they rescue me.

Perhaps it’s because me being alive was still of use to him, his daughter still needed a living person to donate blood.

...

I didn’t know how long I had slept, but when I awoke, I still felt my whole body limp and powerless.

My hand was being held in someone else’s palm.

Timothy sat beside my bed, seemingly about to fall asleep, yet his grip was tight.

I quietly looked at his sleeping face, and his current state, truly unable to believe this was the man who wanted me dead.

At this moment, it only seemed as though he was not holding my hand, but strangling my throat with those hands.

So, I instinctively pulled my hand out.

The gesture startled him awake.

"You’re awake? How do you feel?"

Always indifferent, his tone finally carried a hint of nervousness.

The scenes in my mind still lingered in the blood donation room, his cruel and resolute demeanor.

Yet now, I didn’t even have the strength to hate him.

Seeing I wasn’t speaking, Timothy thought I was upset about the blood donation.

He reached out to tuck the loose strands of hair behind my ear, patiently explained, "Sorry, given the situation at that time, if you didn’t save Doris, she wouldn’t have made it."

"What about my life?"

My voice was so weak, it was almost inaudible.