Ruby glanced at Hanley, but he quickly avoided her gaze. She turned to look at Frieda instead, only to find her so-called mother doting over Gennifer in the corner, fussing over her with concern and not sparing Ruby a single glance. She didn’t even notice the words that had just been spoken, let alone care if Ruby lived or died.
Something was wrong. Something nagged at Ruby’s mind, just out of reach—almost as if the truth was right there, but she simply couldn’t grasp it.
Before she could unravel that thought, the nurse, following Hanley’s orders, began her work. The sting of the needle sinking into Ruby’s vein made her flinch and squeeze her eyes shut, her whole body trembling.
These were her real parents.
Ruby gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached.
Why couldn’t Gennifer just disappear?
The nurse’s hands moved with practiced efficiency, filling a blood bag with Ruby’s own blood—fresh, bright red, draining rapidly from her arm.
Tears stung Ruby’s eyes.
Her blood was being used to save Gennifer. Didn’t Gennifer worry about being haunted by nightmares?
And what was really happening here? Was Gennifer truly so badly hurt that she needed a transfusion?
And Hanley—when Ruby was sent to juvie, he hadn’t bothered to come back, yet now that Gennifer was hurt, he’d rushed home immediately?
A creeping sense of wrongness wrapped itself around Ruby, suffocating and cold.
Her rigid posture finally drew the attention of everyone in the room.
“Ruby, are you still refusing?” Gennifer asked, peeking up at her with wide, anxious eyes, her voice soft and plaintive.
Hanley’s brow darkened. “Ruby, as long as you behave and agree to give Gennifer your blood, I’ll return what your grandmother left you. But if you refuse…” He let the threat hang in the air, unfinished. The meaning was obvious.


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