The Cost of Blood

Morning came like a slap.

Gina was the first to stir, a dull ache in her chest before she even opened her eyes. The softness of Dave's arms around her should have been comforting. Instead, it made the heaviness worse.

Her phone buzzed.

She slipped from the bed quietly and padded across the room, robe wrapped tight. The screen glowed with a single message from her private line:

"Davina collapsed. Internal bleeding suspected. Immediate transfusion needed. No match in registry. URGENT."

Gina's knees buckled.

The next hour passed in a blur of rushed dressing, hospital calls, and Dave jolting awake as she barked instructions in languages he didn't recognize. She didn't explain—just said, "It's Davina." That was enough to send him flying into motion.

When they arrived at the hospital, chaos and antiseptic filled the air. Doctors moved around too quickly. Nurses wouldn't meet Gina's eyes. It was Dave who finally cornered the attending physician.

"She needs O-negative with a rare Rh-null marker," the doctor explained. "We've tested all hospital donors. Nothing. This is incredibly rare."

Gina stood frozen.

"Test me," Dave said quickly.

"We already did. You're not a match."

A beat of silence.

Then Gina's voice broke through, ice-laced and trembling.

"Search the private network. I want every registered donor flagged. If you can't do that—"

"We already did that too," the doctor interrupted gently. "One viable match came up. A donor from twenty-five years ago. Still active... still protected. His name is Richard Lansing."

Gina's world stopped spinning.

The name fell like a stone in the pit of her stomach. Of all people.

Of course it was him.

Dave stared at her. "My father?"

She looked back at him. "Your father."

---

It took a full twenty-four hours before the meeting could be arranged. Gina had made one call—just one—to an encrypted number tied to an old debt Richard owed.

Now she stood in a private suite above the hospital, alone, waiting for the man who had destroyed her childhood.

The door opened.

He entered like he owned the place. Tall, silver-haired, wolf-smiled. Richard Lansing.

"Gina Michaels," he said slowly, eyes raking over her. "I didn't expect to see you ever again. Certainly not begging for my blood."

She didn't flinch. "I'm not begging. I'm offering a choice."

He laughed, low and condescending. "And what could you possibly offer me?"

"Immunity. Discretion. Or destruction," she said coolly. "Your blood type can save her life. You'll do it, or you'll disappear in ways even your empire can't shield you from."

Richard stepped closer, amused. "So dramatic. What's she to you anyway, this child?"

Gina's fists clenched at her side. "She's mine."

That made him pause. "Yours?"

"And Dave's."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Richard turned his back to her, walking to the window. "You think I'd let my only son bind himself to a nobody like you? I've spent two decades crafting his future. He's supposed to marry Jenny Lawrence—daughter of a man who could double our power overnight."

"This isn't about your politics," Gina snapped. "This is about a child. Your granddaughter."

He glanced back at her, his face unreadable. "I don't care about bastards born in secrecy."

"You will care," she said. "Because whether you sign that blood consent form or not, I'll make sure the entire world knows who she is—and how you let her die."

Something dark flickered in Richard's eyes.

Gina stepped closer, eyes blazing. "Do it. Or face me."

Behind her, the door opened again.

Dave stood there, pale but composed. "Dad."

Richard turned, blinking. "David."

"Don't make me choose between you and her," Dave said calmly. "Because I will. And you won't like the side I take."

Father and son stared at each other.

And in that moment, for the first time, Richard Lansing knew he had already lost.

---

An hour later, the transfusion began.

Davina lay unconscious, small and pale against the hospital bed.

Gina sat beside her, holding her hand, Dave at her other side. The war wasn't over. The battles had just begun.

But for now, their daughter lived.

And that was enough.