Chapter 1

The day I found out I had leukemia, I didn't cry. Instead, I felt relieved. After all, I wasn't their real daughter. If I died, I wouldn't owe anyone a thing.

When I was six, I got into a fight with my sister over a teddy bear.

Mom yanked me into the corner and said, "You're not really our daughter. You're not really our daughter. Everything here is charity from us."

From that day on, I never asked for anything again.

My sister, Emily Foster, got new dresses, while I wore her old school uniforms.

She took piano lessons, while I washed dishes in the kitchen to afford breakfast the next day.

I lived like baggage in this house, always ready to be taken away at any moment.

After my diagnosis, the doctor said a bone marrow transplant would work best if I could find a close relative who was a match.

I didn't tell my family.

While secretly searching for my real parents, I used the money I'd saved over seven years to pay the deposit for my grave.

Last night, I had a fever of 102.2°F and was stumbling to the kitchen for some water when I overheard my parents talking in their bedroom.

Mom said, "Did we go too far back then? Claire's starting to feel like a stranger."

Dad let out a sigh. "What else could we do? Emily's adopted. If we hadn't told Claire she wasn't our real daughter, would she ever be willing to put Emily first?"

The glass slipped from my hand, rolled twice, and stopped at my feet.

It turned out I was their real daughter all along. The one they treated like family for nineteen years was actually the adopted kid.

I stood outside the door and burst out laughing. But my illness was already in its final stage.

*****

"Why are you up so late? What's your problem?" Mom pushed open the bedroom door, her brows furrowed as she looked at me.

The dim hallway light made the disgust in her eyes crystal clear.

I was standing less than six feet away from her. At my feet lay a shattered glass.

I looked up, my vision hazy from the fever, but her face was sharp and clear.

She looked wary, and honestly, a bit irritated that I was interrupting her.

"I slipped," I murmured, crouching down to pick up the glass shards from the floor.

Mom let out a sigh, towering over me with that cold, superior look in her eyes. "Always making a mess, aren't you?

"Emily's got a piano competition tomorrow. If you wake her up, your dad will make sure you regret it."

Dad's voice drifted out from the bedroom, full of impatience. "It's okay. Have her clean up and get back to her room. I don't want her out here being an eyesore."

Mom crossed her arms and gave me a cold glare. "Did you hear him? Clean it up."

She didn't bother to ask why my face was red or why I was trembling as I crouched there.

I didn't say a word. I picked up the last shard and held it in my hand. The sharp edge cut right into my index finger.

A drop of blood welled up and fell onto the wool carpet, spreading into a small, dark red stain.

With my leukemia in its final stage, my blood clotting was almost nonexistent. Blood quickly filled my entire palm.

Mom finally noticed.

But instead of showing any concern, she gasped. "Claire, did you do that on purpose? This carpet is Emily's favorite. Are you trying to make a point or something?"

I stared at the blood on my fingertip, and suddenly, my breath felt like it was filled with the cold of a grave.

Nineteen years passed.

Ever since I was six and they told me I wasn't their real daughter, I'd been living in this house like a thief, always afraid of being caught.

I never dared to ask for new clothes, never dared to ask for pocket money, and I didn't dare to get sick.

I was scared of being abandoned. But now I got it.

I wasn't a thief. I was a joke. My parents took everything from me, like I was some kind of sick joke.

"Sorry." I pulled my hand back, clutching my bleeding fingertip tightly in my palm. "I'll clean it up."

Mom snorted and slammed the door right in my face.

I was left alone in the hallway, scrubbing every last drop of blood from the carpet, then headed back to that tiny, windowless room they called the maid's quarters.

As I lay on the hard wooden bed, the ache in my bones surged up again.

Three days ago, at the city hospital's hematology department, the doctor looked at me with pity as he held the test results. "Acute myeloid leukemia. Late stage.

"You need a bone marrow transplant as soon as possible. It's best if you can find a close relative who's a match. Do you have a way to contact your parents?"

I held that thin sheet of paper and calmly shook my head. "I have no parents."

I was an adopted orphan. Where was I supposed to find any blood relatives? So I gave up on treatment.

I took the 23 thousand dollars I'd saved over the years from waiting tables and tutoring, and used it to put a down payment on a grave in the suburbs. I still had 4 thousand dollars left to pay.

If I could hold on for another two months, I'd have the full amount. But then, I uncovered that earth-shattering lie.

It turned out I had parents all along.

There were two perfect matches in my family who could have saved my life.

But now, I didn't want to use them anymore.

The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed, fighting through the pain, and went to the kitchen to make breakfast like I always did.

Emily was sitting at the dining table in a brand-new designer dress, looking like a princess.

It was the dress I'd spent ages staring at in the mall window two weeks ago.

Back then, Mom said it was way too expensive for me, that someone like me, an outsider, shouldn't wear it.

But then she went and bought it for Emily instead.

Emily kept cutting her egg, eyes wide and full of innocence. "Claire, you look really pale today.

"Did you not sleep well last night? If you want, you can have this milk. I can't finish it anyway."

She slid her half-finished glass of milk over to me.

Mom immediately came over and poured the milk down the sink. "Claire, Emily was being generous, and you don't stop to think if you're worthy of it.

"If you make Emily sick and ruin her competition today, could you handle the consequences?"

I watched the milk go down the drain, my stomach twisting in knots. "I'm full."

I got up without meeting anyone's eyes.

Dad put down his newspaper, his brows furrowed. "Stop right there. Emily's got a competition today. If you're not coming along to carry her bag, where exactly do you think you're going?"

I turned around, my voice rough from the fever. "I need to take care of something. I have to head over to the Lifesave Foundation."

Mom let out a mocking laugh. "The Lifesave Foundation? What are you going there for? You think acting all pitiful and throwing some money at them will make us see you as a grown-up?

"Stop wasting your time with all this meaningless charity stuff."

I didn't bother explaining. I pushed the door open and walked out.

The sunlight was blinding.

I stood by the curb and dialed up the Organ Donation Center. "Hi, I wanted to ask if I'm in the late stage of leukemia, can I still donate my corneas?"