Daniel’s face darkened as he turned on me. “Claire Whitmore! Have you lost your mind? Sophie’s in a delicate state—how could you push her? It’s just an old toy. I’ll buy you ten new ones!”
“An old toy?” My voice shook. “That was Emma’s! It’s the only thing my daughter left behind!”
“You have the nerve to bring up Emma?” he snapped. “Look at how you raised her—when we have guests, she doesn’t even come out to greet them.” He kept his arm protectively around Sophie.
From behind him, Sophie peeked out and pulled a mocking face at me, silently mouthing, Serves you right.
Then she buried herself against Daniel’s chest, sobbing. “Daniel, I understand that she’s upset. I can take being pushed, but my belly hurts so much—what if something’s wrong with the baby?”
Daniel shot me one last venomous glare before scooping Sophie up and carrying her out.
I clutched the ruined bunny to my chest, my knuckles white, the ache in my abdomen tangling with the seething hatred in my heart.
After they left, I endured the pain in my abdomen long enough to call the Whitmore Group Subsidiary’s project partner and cancel the upcoming cooperation with Daniel Reed’s company. Then I headed to the law firm to discuss filing a lawsuit against Sophie Lane and Daniel for intentional harm.
“Claire! Where are you? Get to the hospital—Sophie’s in trouble!”
I hung up immediately, but Daniel still found me. He had bodyguards force me into the car.
“What were you doing at the law firm?”
Before I could answer, he ordered the driver to speed toward the hospital.
On the way, he rambled incoherently—Sophie had suddenly collapsed at home, and the hospital diagnosed her with anemia. She urgently needed a blood transfusion, but her blood type was the rare Rh-negative, and the blood bank was running out.
“The doctor says her baby is affected too—she needs blood immediately!” Daniel’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “I’ve called all my friends—none have the right type. Claire, you’re Rh-negative, aren’t you? Help Sophie… and help her baby!”
My stomach dropped, and I instinctively shielded my belly. “Daniel, I’m seven months pregnant. The doctor said my placenta is low—donating blood could be dangerous for me!”