Chapter 3

"Miss Skylar, someone's here to see you. In the conference room."

The receptionist's voice carried a subtle peculiarity. Colleagues along the hallway were all secretly glancing in that direction.

I pushed open the conference room door.

A thin, frail girl sat in a chair. Her face was sallow, her lips almost bloodless. Her hands showed bruised marks from IV lines.

Chloe. She looked even more gaunt than I remembered from my last life.

She saw me, and her eyes immediately reddened.

"Miss Skylar." Her voice was so weak it sounded like a puff of wind could scatter it. "I know I shouldn't have come to you directly."

Next to her sat a middle-aged woman. Her makeup was meticulously applied, but beneath it was an undisguised scrutinizing gaze.

"And who are you?"

The woman stood up, extending her hand. "I’m Chloe’s mother, Eleanor. Thank you for agreeing to see us."

I didn't take her hand.

Eleanor's hand hung in the air for two seconds, then retracted. The smile on her face didn't falter.

Chloe lowered her head, a tear falling onto her oversized cardigan. Beneath the cardigan, the blue and white stripes of a hospital gown were visible.

"I’m not here to beg you. I just wanted to see what you look like with my own eyes."

"Why look at me?"

"Ethan said your genetic match is perfect with mine."

"I didn’t know about this before. I looked up a lot of information, and bone marrow donation usually causes minimal harm to the donor—"

"Usually."

She paused.

"You said usually." I looked at her face. "Did you also look up the probability of post-op infection? Did you read about cases where donors' immune systems crashed?"

Chloe’s lips moved, but she didn’t respond.

Eleanor interjected. "Miss Skylar, medical conditions are very advanced now. The post-op infection rate in large hospitals is less than one percent. We will hire the best specialists—"

"Your daughter's life matters, but mine doesn't?"

The conference room fell silent for two seconds.

Eleanor’s expression shifted subtly, then quickly morphed into a more polished smile. She took a bank card from her bag and pushed it across the table.

"Miss Skylar, you’re right. So we want to talk to you properly. Compensation-wise, just name your price."

I glanced at the card.

"You think bone marrow can be priced."

"It's not pricing! It's gratitude—"

"Your gratitude involves first buying my genetic information, then having Ethan approach me under the guise of a charity foundation. What’s next? Is the next step arranging a blind date?"

Eleanor’s hand froze on the table. Chloe looked up.

"Miss Skylar, what are you saying? Ethan wouldn't—"

"Chloe, do you know how Ethan found me?"

Her lips trembled.

"He said… it was through the bone marrow registry."

"I’ve never registered with any bone marrow registry."

Her eyelashes fluttered.

The conference room door was pushed open.

Ethan walked in. His gaze swept over Eleanor and Chloe, finally landing on me.

"Mom, I told you not to bring Chloe."

There was restrained annoyance in his voice. He then turned to me, his expression switching to that infuriatingly gentle one.

"Skylar, I’m sorry. They’re just too desperate."

He was always playing the good guy.

"Skylar, I know you’re wary of me." He sat opposite me, hands clasped. "But this isn't just between you and me. There's a twenty-three-year-old life at stake."

"That life has nothing to do with me."

"Your genes can save her."

"Those are my genes, not your pharmacy."

His jawline tightened for a moment.

Chloe suddenly began to cough violently. Eleanor quickly supported her. She turned to me and yelled, "Look at her! Look at what she's become—"

"Mom!" Ethan said in a low, sharp voice.

Chloe pressed her hand to her mouth, her fingertips stained with blood. She looked up and gave me a faint smile.

"Miss Skylar, it’s okay. If you don't want to, I don’t blame you."

That sentence was more effective than all the pleas and accusations.

Because when she smiled, there was something in her eyes.

Not pleading, but certainty.

She was certain I would compromise, just like in my last life.

"Conference room time is up. Please leave."

When I walked out the door, everyone in the hallway was watching.

Someone whispered, their voice not too loud, not too soft, just loud enough for me to hear.

"That girl is so pathetic, dying of leukemia, why won't she save her…"

"It's just a little bone marrow donation."

My steps paused, then I continued walking.

Ethan’s voice followed me from behind, gentle, considerate, for all my colleagues to hear.

"Skylar, whenever you change your mind, contact me. I'll be waiting."