## Hazel's POV
The shrill ring of my phone cut through the morning silence. I groaned, peering at the clock—6:15 AM. Who on earth was calling at this ungodly hour?
"Hello?" My voice was still thick with sleep.
"Hazel, thank God you answered." The voice on the other end was frantic, breathless. Liana Langdon, Alistair's mother.
I sat up straight, instantly alert. "What is it now, Liana?"
"It's Alistair. His condition has worsened overnight. The doctors say his body is rejecting the donor blood." Her voice cracked. "They need your blood, Hazel. Your rare RH-negative blood. The blood bank is depleted."
My jaw clenched. Of course. I should have known this wasn't over.
"You're his only hope," she continued, desperation thick in her voice. "Please, Hazel. I'm begging you."
I laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. "So I'm a blood bag again. That's all I've ever been to your family, isn't it?"
"That's not true!" Liana protested. "Alistair loved you—"