My Name on Her Dying Report

My twin sister, Scarlett, was dying from a rare hereditary blood disease, and my bone marrow was the only thing that could save her.

A lab mix-up sent her diagnostic report to our house—with my name on it: Chloe.

The lab contacted me privately to explain the error. I was about to rush back to our home on Long Island to correct this deadly mistake.

But before I could speak, the news had already ripped through the family. The reactions from my parents and my fiancé, Julian, were beyond anything I could have imagined. They adamantly refused to let Scarlett donate her bone marrow to me.

They accused me of being unbelievably selfish for even considering it. They claimed Scarlett was too fragile for the minor risks of the surgery, that her public image couldn't withstand the slightest imperfection.

A bone-deep chill settled in my chest, and it was all I could do to keep my expression neutral.

"I'm pregnant. If I don't get a transplant soon, the baby inside me will die too."

My fiancé, Julian Croft, the man who had once sworn to protect me forever, responded with chilling indifference.

"We can have other children. Scarlett's career and image, however, are irreplaceable."

It was as if my heart was being ripped apart. And so, I walked away from the house that had only ever caused me pain.

By the time they realized their mistake, it was too late for regrets.

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1

I pushed open the heavy, carved doors of the Hawthorne family estate. The glare from the crystal chandeliers and the cloying scent of champagne engulfed me.

In the grand hall, my parents and Scarlett were gathered around Julian, their laughter echoing off the high ceilings.

On the table sat an exquisite multi-layered cake, Scarlett's favorite. They were celebrating her upcoming honor at the Starlight Charity Gala.

My arrival brought the joyous scene to a sudden halt.

My mother, Eleanor's, smile faltered for a second before she plastered on a look of false warmth and swept over to pull me into an embrace.

"Chloe, you're back. We were all waiting for you. Come, sit down."

Her hand barely brushed my arm, a polite distance reserved for an unwelcome guest.

I grabbed her wrist.

Her body stiffened.

"Mother, did you see the report the lab sent?"

Her smile vanished. She tried to yank her hand away, but my grip tightened.

"Yes, we saw it. Why bring that up now?"

She lowered her voice, her tone laced with impatience.

"Look at Scarlett. She's so happy today. Don't ruin her mood."

I froze.

They knew.

They thought I was the one who was terminally ill, yet they were still here, throwing a party for Scarlett.

My father, Prescott, finally set down his wine glass, his gaze filled with irritation.

"Chloe, today is a momentous day for your sister. Did you have to come storming in here and ruin everything?"

Julian strolled over to my side. He placed a hand gently on my shoulder, but his grip was as cold as iron.

"Prescott, don't be too hard on Chloe. She's not as worldly as Scarlett; she doesn't always see the big picture."

I shook his hand off.

I strode to the center of the hall, my gaze sweeping over each of them, cold and deliberate.

"I'm gravely ill. A rare hereditary blood disease."

A sudden, thick silence descended upon the hall.

My mother’s eyes remained dry.

My father's face darkened. He let out a heavy snort.

"Don't be so dramatic. It's not the end of the world."

He turned to me, his voice thick with accusation.

"What's the big deal? Did you have to come barging in here and make a scene?"

He waved his hand impatiently.

"If you need some expensive targeted drugs, just have Julian's family pay for them. The Croft Group has plenty of money."

I stared at him as a wave of absurdity washed over me.

In his eyes, my life had a price tag.

Scarlett came over as well, taking my hand, her features arranged in their usual charming mask.

"Chloe, don't scare yourself. You're a Ph.D. in genetics. You've just been under too much pressure from your project lately, and your immune system is down."

She patted my hand.

"It's nothing serious. Get some rest, maybe spend a week at a high-end spa. You'll be right as rain in no time." Her tone was dismissive, as if waving away a fly.

Scarlett loved strong, custom-blended perfumes. The intense fragrance always masked her natural scent.

That was why no one could tell that I was, in fact, perfectly healthy.

I ignored her, looking straight at my parents.

"I didn't come back for money."

I took a deep breath.

"The doctor says my condition is critical. I need a bone marrow transplant from a direct relative to survive. Only Scarlett can save me."

The hall was plunged into dead silence once more.

A few seconds later, my father slammed his palm on the table.

"Absurd!"

He pointed at me, his face flushing a deep, angry red.

"Do you have any idea how painful a bone marrow donation is? The kind of toll it takes on a person's body?"

He moved protectively in front of Scarlett.

"Your sister has been frail since she was a child. How could you even make such a request?"

Ice flooded my veins.

"A small risk to save my life," I pressed. "Isn't that a risk worth taking?"

My father turned his face away, refusing to look at me.

"I disagree!"

"Scarlett's body is precious. We can't let her take any risks! Not even a one-in-a-million chance!"

It was the answer I'd been bracing for all along.