Seven Years a Shadow: The Stand-In's Escape novel Chapter 27

I called out, "Mom, please teach me what it means to do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

My mother collapsed onto the edge of the bed.

Sean and Henry were controlled by security.

The bullet comments kept scrolling.

[The crowd's gathered outside the hospital, shifting their target!]

[Fuck, we've been played by those two old fools. Let's show them that monkeys shouldn't be toyed with!]

I took the ultrasound report from my mentor and held it up to the camera.

It was a proof of my pregnancy, clearly displayed on the screen.

"Since so many people are watching, let's make this official."

"I'm ten weeks pregnant now. I asked my mentor beforehand, and if I were to donate bone marrow, it would most likely require an abortion."

"Yuna's life matters, but my baby's life does too. Honestly, I've struggled between these two lives. I wasn't sure whether to donate or not..."

Before I could finish, my mother suddenly rushed toward the camera, as if she had heard some hope.

"South, I knew you couldn't be so heartless, so it's because you're pregnant."

"Listen to me, we can have another child, but people can't be brought back to life!"

The cursing in the bullet comments wasn't as fast as the live crowd's.

"Shut up, you slut! Even if you have another child, it won't be the same one!"

"Disgusting, why should we sacrifice someone else's child for your daughter?"

If it weren't for the security, the crowd would have rushed in to attack.

I pushed my mother away and continued.

"They're right. I only figured it out later. Even if I have another child, it won't be the same one. This is the child I begged for. I have no right to just kill them off."

"So, I can't donate the bone marrow."

I said everything clearly to prevent the East family from causing trouble with the hospital leadership again.

I also wanted to ensure that public opinion was on my side.

Afterwards, Yuna's condition deteriorated quickly. To protect me, I was moved to another ward by the hospital.

My husband, worried, asked me to take a break from work, afraid the East family would retaliate.

However, before the retaliation could come, it was my mother who arrived first. She came in the evening.

In the freezing cold, she stood outside the building, holding a thermal lunchbox, waiting for me. My husband let her in.

It was her first time coming to my house since my wedding, other than that one time before. She looked around, her eyes starting to glisten with tears. She opened the lunchbox and laid out the food in layers.

"Sweet and sour pork ribs," she said, wiping her eyes.

"They were your favorite when you were little."

A sudden heaviness filled my chest. A four-year-old child should have no deep memories. But I would never forget the day I was sent away, eating her sweet and sour pork ribs.

The mother, who never smiled at me, had smiled gently that day and fed me those ribs. She even said she made them just for me.

But I barely got a bite in before Sean, with a stern face, rushed in and said, "Hurry up, the car is waiting." Then, without hesitation, he dragged me away from the dinner table.

That day, I cried uncontrollably, and the half piece of rib fell to the ground. Since then, I had never been able to eat sweet and sour pork ribs again.