Chapter 1 The Blood-Stained Acceptance Letter
# Chapter 1: The Blood-Stained Acceptance Letter
The fluorescent lights of St. Agnes Children's Hospital always made everyone look sicker than they were. Everyone except my brother, who really was that sick. I watched him sleep, his thin chest rising and falling with each labored breath, the chemotherapy drugs dripping steadily into his veins.
"Miss Blackwood?" A nurse peeked her head into the room, holding a cream-colored envelope. "This came for you."
I took the envelope, my heart skipping as I recognized the embossed seal of Loren Medical School. This was it—my last chance to save Jamie. The scholarship that would give me access to experimental treatments no insurance would cover.
My hands trembled as I carefully opened it, not wanting to wake my brother. The acceptance letter was everything I'd dreamed of—full scholarship, stipend, even housing. But as I slid the letter out further, a second page fell into my lap. Handwritten in elegant, almost archaic script:
*Tonight. 9 PM. Rose Manor. Come alone or your brother's imported medication stops tomorrow. —V*
My blood ran cold. The only person who could know about Jamie's black-market medications was someone with connections far beyond a mere hospital administrator.
"Good news, sis?" Jamie's voice, thin and reedy, startled me.
I folded the threatening note away and forced a smile. "The best. I got in. Full ride."
"Told you," he grinned weakly, his once-rosy cheeks now hollow. At sixteen, he looked both like a child and an old man. "You're the smart one."
"And you're the pretty one," I teased, our old joke landing flat in the sterile room.
As Jamie drifted back to sleep, I checked my watch. 4:37 PM. I had less than five hours to decide if I would meet this mysterious "V" who had the power to cut off Jamie's lifeline.
I didn't need five hours. I already knew I would go.
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Rose Manor loomed against the night sky like something from a gothic novel, its limestone façade bathed in moonlight. The iron gates swung open as my taxi approached, making it clear I was expected.
A tall man in a dark suit met me at the entrance. "Miss Blackwood. This way."
He led me past ornate hallways and down a spiral staircase, deep into the bowels of the mansion. The air grew cooler, damper. Finally, we reached a sleek modern door that seemed out of place among the antiquity—a private medical suite.
"Enter." The voice from within was deep, melodic, with the faintest trace of an Italian accent.
I stepped into a state-of-the-art medical facility. In its center stood a man—no older than thirty-five—his back to me as he studied something on a wall-mounted screen. When he turned, I nearly gasped. His beauty was severe, almost cruel: sharp cheekbones, raven-black hair, and eyes so pale blue they seemed to glow.
"Antonia Blackwood. Your academic record is exceptional." He gestured toward a chair as if this were a job interview rather than an abduction. "I'm Victor Cosimo."
The name hit me like a physical blow. Everyone in the medical field knew the Cosimos—pharmaceutical dynasty, old European money, and rumors of connections to organized crime.
"What do you want?" I kept my voice steady, refusing to show fear.
"Directness. I appreciate that." Victor approached, his movements like a predator's. "I have a proposition. A contract of sorts."
"You threatened my brother's medication. That's not a proposition. That's blackmail."
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Semantics." He nodded to his assistant, who placed a document before me. "I need a child. My child. Conceived naturally, carried by you."
The absurdity nearly made me laugh. "You're insane."
"Your brother's imported medications cost $42,000 per month. Medications I've been subsidizing anonymously for the past year." He leaned against his desk, studying me. "You've wondered how the hospital charity fund never ran dry?"
My mind raced. Jamie's treatments had mysteriously continued long after our parents' insurance maximums had been reached.
"Why me? Why not use a surrogate? In vitro?"
"Test-tube embryos don't survive the curse." His tone was matter-of-fact.
"Curse?" Now I was certain he was delusional.
Victor's eyes hardened. "Six generations of Cosimo men have watched their unborn children die unless conceived under... specific circumstances."
Before I could respond, he pulled out a gun, placing it gently against my temple. "Sign the contract, Antonia. One year of your life for your brother's entire future."
The cold metal pressed against my skin. I thought of Jamie, tubes and wires keeping him alive.
"You're a doctor. First, do no harm," I whispered.
"I never took that oath." Victor's free hand slid to his coat pocket, retrieving a syringe. "This is a fertility drug. Your ovulation cycle begins tomorrow."
When I tried to stand, his hand shot out, pinning me to the chair. With practiced precision, he tore open my blouse collar, exposing my neck and collarbone.
"Don't struggle," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin as he positioned the needle. "Your racing heartbeat will only affect drug absorption. I need you in optimal condition."
The needle slid in, a sharp sting followed by a cold spread beneath my skin. His fingers lingered on my collarbone, a touch that was somehow both clinical and intimate.
"I'll never agree to this," I hissed, jerking away once he withdrew the needle.
Victor's expression remained impassive. "I thought you might say that."
He pressed an intercom button. "Bring him in."
The door opened, and two guards entered, half-carrying a frail figure between them. My heart stopped.
"Jamie!" I lunged forward but was restrained.
My brother looked up, his eyes glazed with pain and medication. IV poles and monitoring equipment had been hastily attached to portable units. This transport alone could kill him.
"Sis," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "What's happening? They said you needed me..."
Victor approached Jamie, placing a paternal hand on his shoulder. "Your sister is making an important decision right now. One that affects both your futures."
The implied threat couldn't have been clearer. I felt something break inside me—not my resolve, but the illusion that I had any choice.
"Give me the contract," I said, my voice hollow.
Victor's smile was triumphant as he slid the document toward me. "One signature, and your brother returns to the best private room in St. Agnes, with round-the-clock care."
I signed without reading. What did the details matter? I'd just sold myself.
"Wise choice." Victor took the paper, his fingers brushing mine. "Show Miss Blackwood to her quarters."
As I was led away, I glanced back at Jamie being carefully removed. The last thing I saw was Victor watching me, those ice-blue eyes calculating, as if I were a specimen under glass.
They took me to an opulent bedroom on the third floor, locked from the outside. Exhausted and defeated, I sank onto the silk bedspread, trying to process what had just happened.
That's when I noticed the photographs on the dresser. A beautiful woman with auburn hair smiled from a silver frame. I picked it up, turning it over. On the back, written in the same elegant script as my note:
*Seraphina—V's perfect genetic vessel. Failed 3 times.*
I dropped the photo as if it had burned me. The word "vessel" echoed in my mind as I realized with growing horror that I wasn't the first woman brought to this mansion. Just the latest in a line of failed experiments.
And outside my locked door, I heard the soft, measured footsteps of Victor Cosimo retreating down the hall, followed by the haunting notes of what sounded like a lullaby.
