Chapter 1

Three seconds before my heart stopped, a nurse slipped a note into my hand.

It was in my mother Evelyn’s handwriting.

“Your blood type is a perfect match for mine. Keeping me alive with your blood since you were little is the only reason you exist. After this last draw, you’ll be free.”

The day they drained me dry, the waiting area outside the operating room was packed.

Even my twin sister, Lily Bennett, had come. She’d spent her whole life fighting me for everything.

The only person missing was my mother—the woman who needed my bone marrow to stay alive.

She was in a VIP room, holding my sister’s hand and praising her for being such a good daughter.

Lily walked into the operating room and glanced at my pale face. “Hannah, you only exist to be Mom’s walking blood bank.”

“In your next life, I hope you don’t have this rare blood type.”

I never expected her words to come true. When I opened my eyes again, we were both back at age five, on the day I was first taken into the blood-draw room.

My mother crouched down to coax me. “Sweetheart, Mommy’s sick. Will you hold out your arm and let the doctor give you a little poke?”

I pulled my hand back and pointed to my sister outside.

“Let Lily get her blood type checked first. What if she’s a match too?”

“Hannah Bennett, what did you say?”

Evelyn’s smile froze.

She probably hadn’t expected those words from a five-year-old.

The old me would never have said them. In my previous life, I obediently held out my arm for the first needle. Then the second. Then the third. Until, twenty-three years later, they took the last tube of blood and I died under the surgical lights.

“Mommy, Lily’s your daughter too.” I blinked up at her. “What if her blood can save you too? If we both help, wouldn’t that keep you safer?”

The logic was flawless.

But Evelyn looked as if she’d swallowed a fly.

She stood, her voice returning to that familiar gentleness.

“Lily’s afraid of needles. You know that. You’re the older sister. You need to put her first.”

Afraid of needles.

I’d been afraid too, in my last life.

But no one had ever asked.

Outside the door, Lily started crying, her little voice fierce. “I’m not going in! I don’t want a shot!”

My father Richard’s voice followed, low and soothing. “No shots, sweetheart. How about Daddy takes you for ice cream?”

Ice cream.

I remembered that day. Lily ate an entire strawberry cone outside the hospital while I cried myself dehydrated in the blood-draw room. A nurse gave me half a cup of lukewarm water.

“Mommy.” I looked up at Evelyn. “I’m scared of needles too.”

She paused, then smiled and stroked my head. “But you’re my brave girl, aren’t you? Mommy’s sick, and only you can save her. Don’t you want to save Mommy?”

Emotional blackmail.

It had started when I was five.

I didn’t pull away from her hand, but I didn’t nod either.

“Then let the doctor check Lily’s blood type too,” I repeated. “Checking won’t hurt.”

Evelyn’s hand stopped on top of my head. Her fingers tightened slightly.

She lowered her eyes to me. I knew that look all too well. It wasn’t anger. It was scrutiny.

“Hannah Bennett.” Her voice softened a fraction as she said my full name. “Mommy told you Lily’s afraid of needles. If you keep acting up, Mommy won’t love you anymore.”

Won’t love you anymore.

In my last life, those words would have made me burst into tears and obediently hold out my arm.

But this life was different.

I looked into her eyes. There wasn’t a trace of concern in them.

“Okay,” I said.

Evelyn exhaled in relief and crouched down again. “That’s my good girl. Come on, roll up your sleeve.”

“But Mommy.” I stepped back before she could touch my sleeve. “Yesterday, I heard Daddy on the phone. He said Lily’s blood type hasn’t been checked.”

Evelyn went still.

“What if Lily’s AB-negative too?”

A five-year-old shouldn’t have known that term.

I watched Evelyn’s pupils contract.

Silence hung in the air for three seconds.

She stood without looking at me again and turned toward the door.

“Richard.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but everyone in the hallway could hear it. “Have Lily’s blood type checked too.”

Lily’s crying immediately rose to a shriek. “No! I don’t want a shot! Mommy!”

Evelyn went outside. Through the door, I heard her voice, as gentle as if she were soothing a frightened kitten. “No shots, baby. They’ll just rub a cotton swab inside your mouth. It won’t hurt at all.”

I sat in the little chair in the blood-draw room and swung my legs. My feet couldn’t reach the floor.

I’d taken the first step.

But I knew it was nowhere near enough.

In my last life, Evelyn had never checked Lily’s blood type. Not because she hadn’t thought of it, but because she hadn’t wanted to know.

Because if Lily was a match too, she would have no excuse to use only me.

And blood had never been the only thing she wanted.

She wanted a tool she could take from endlessly. One that would never fight back.

Outside, Lily’s crying gradually faded, replaced by Richard’s soothing whispers.

I clenched my fists.

My five-year-old hands were so small that even digging my nails into my palms barely hurt.

But that was fine.

In this life, I wouldn’t be anyone’s blood bank.

The door suddenly opened. Richard carried Lily in, her eyes red. The moment she saw me, her mouth crumpled. “It’s your fault! This is all Hannah’s fault!”

I watched her without speaking.

The last thing she’d said before I died ran through my mind again. In your next life, I hope you don’t have this rare blood type.

Her tone hadn’t sounded like a curse.

It had sounded more like… guilt.

“Hannah.” Evelyn followed them inside and glanced at me. “Look, you made Lily cry. Can’t you be a little more considerate?”

I tilted my head up and smiled at her.

“Mommy, if Lily’s blood is a match too, does that mean we can take turns saving you?”

Evelyn didn’t answer.

She just looked at me, something flickering in her eyes.

I recognized it.

Fear.