I took off my coat and saw the bruise already forming on my shoulder. Dark. Ugly.
I opened the first aid kit and cleaned it quietly, pressing the cotton against my skin. It stung, but it was nothing compared to what was inside my chest.
That felt like something dull was slicing through it… slowly, over and over again.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared out the window. The sky was getting darker, the city lights coming on one by one.
I don’t even know how long I stayed like that. Until my phone rang.
Hudson.
I hesitated for a second then picked up.
“Come to the Favilla hospital,” he said, straight to the point.
My heart skipped. “What happened?”
“We’ll talk when you get here.”
The line went dead.
...
When I arrived, I saw him right away. He was standing outside the operating room. And Amber… she was pressed against him, crying like her whole world was falling apart.
My steps slowed.
Something tightened in my chest again, like a hand squeezing too hard.
I still walked over.
“What happened?” I asked softly.
Hudson looked at me, his expression serious. “Amber’s mother collapsed earlier. It’s a severe blood disorder. Her body’s failing fast. She needs a bone marrow transplant immediately.”
I froze. “And…?”
“We checked everywhere,” he continued, calm like he was talking about business. “No match. So I had them run a test on you secretly.”
Something inside me dropped.
“And?” My voice barely came out.
“You’re a match.”
For a second, I just stared at him.
“Y-you want me to donate?” I asked, my fingers curling slightly. “Hudson… I can’t. I’m scared of needles, I don’t even… this is surgery, it’s risky, I—”
“I didn’t call you here to complain,” he cut me off, his tone turning cold. “Don’t start that shit with me.”
“I’m not complaining, I just… I’m scared, okay?” My voice shook and I hated it. “Can’t you find someone else? Please, I really can’t do this—”
Before I could step back, two of his men moved. They grabbed my arms.
Hard.
I flinched, panic rising in my chest. “Let go! What are you doing?”
Hudson stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. His eyes were dark, unreadable, like there was no room for refusal.
“I’m your husband,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “And you’ll do exactly what I say.”
My heart dropped.
“Your life is mine,” he continued, his grip tightening on my chin, forcing me to look at him. “So you’re donating. Don’t make me repeat myself.”