Chapter 21:
A Mother's Plea and a Name From the Past

Kathalina stood beside the hospital bed, her uniform crisp and neat, her expression professional yet warm as she recorded the final readings on her clipboard. She adjusted the cuff of the blood pressure monitor one last time before turning her attention to the elderly man resting against the pillows. Mr. Langford, a kind‑faced gentleman in his late seventies, had been under her care for weeks, and over that time, a gentle friendship had formed between them.

"Mr. Langford, your blood pressure is now within the normal range, which is very good news," she told him softly, her voice clear and reassuring. "However, it is essential that you continue taking the prescribed medications as maintenance therapy. Even though your numbers have stabilized, stopping the medicine abruptly could cause your blood pressure to spike again, which puts you at risk for complications like hypertensive crisis, stroke, or damage to your heart and kidneys. We need to keep it regulated consistently to protect your health long‑term."

The old man smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and nodded slowly. "You're such a beautiful nurse, sweetheart," he said politely, his tone sincere and gentle. "Every time you speak or look at me, I always remember my late wife. You have the same kindness and softness she had. Your husband must be such a lucky man to have a beautiful and capable wife like you."

Kathalina offered him a small, appreciative smile, though her heart gave a little tug at the mention of a husband — a title she did not hold, even if her life felt no different from that of a married woman. "Thank you, Mr. Langford. I appreciate that very much. But I really must go now; I still have many other patients to attend to and rounds to finish."

The old man gave her a warm nod, lifting a hand in a gentle wave. "Have a nice day, sweetheart. And thank you for taking such good care of me."

She returned the gesture before stepping out of the room, the door clicking softly shut behind her. She walked down the corridor, her focus shifting back to the tasks at hand, her pen hovering over her clipboard as she reviewed her schedule and patient notes. The hospital was busy, the air filled with the familiar sounds of footsteps, beeping monitors, and distant voices — the rhythm of life and healing she had grown accustomed to.

Then, her phone rang.

The sharp, sudden ring cut through the background noise, and Kathalina paused, frowning slightly as she pulled the device from her pocket. She didn't usually receive calls during her shift unless it was an emergency. When she saw the caller ID, her heart skipped a beat: Ethan's School. Her fingers trembled slightly as she answered, pressing the phone tight against her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Ms. Suarez. This is Teacher Elise, Ethan's class adviser." The voice on the other end was calm, but there was an undercurrent of urgency that immediately set Kathalina's nerves on edge.

Worry surged through her instantly. It had been nearly a month since Ethan had started preschool, and this was the very first time his teacher had contacted her. He was always such a happy, healthy, energetic little boy — never any trouble, always laughing and playing. Her mind began to race with worst‑case scenarios before she could stop it.

"Yes, Teacher Elise, is there something wrong?" she asked, her voice rising slightly in pitch, thick with rising panic.

"Ms. Suarez… we brought Ethan to the general hospital nearby the school. We thought it was best to get him checked immediately."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Kathalina's breath caught in her throat, and she felt a cold wave of dread wash over her body, starting from her chest and spreading to her fingertips and toes. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs, hard and fast, like it was trying to break free.

"What? What happened to him?!" she nearly shouted, already scrambling to gather her things — her clipboard, her bag, her keys — her movements frantic and clumsy. She began walking briskly toward the head nurse's station, her mind already miles away, with her son.

"The doctor said he suffered a severe reaction," Teacher Elise explained quickly, her voice laced with concern. "We administered first aid on site and rushed him straight to the emergency room. I will send you the exact location and ward details right now."

Kathalina didn't wait to hear more. She rushed to the head nurse counter, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear. She blurted out her situation, explaining that her son was hospitalized and she needed to leave immediately, her words coming out in a breathless, hurried stream. Her colleagues, seeing the state she was in, nodded understandingly, telling her to go, that they would cover her duties. She barely heard their reassurances, her entire focus locked on one thing: getting to Ethan.

She ran out of the hospital doors and onto the busy street, her heart aching and heavy with fear. She didn't own a car — she and Luke were doing their best to make ends meet on modest wages, living simply, paycheck to paycheck. They were grateful for what they had, but moments like this made the weight of their reality sting painfully. She hurried to the nearest bus stop, tears already spilling freely down her cheeks, hot and fast, blurring her vision. She felt like a wreck, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she waited, her mind spiraling into dark places.

My baby… my sweet boy… please be okay. Please, God, don't take him away from me. He is my whole world…

Her chest felt tight, constricted by a terrifying anxiety that made it hard to breathe. Every passing second felt like an hour, every delay felt like torture. To make things worse, Luke was not around to lean on, to hold her hand, to be strong with her. His father had called him two nights ago, asking him to travel back to the main city to handle some urgent family business and property matters. He had promised he would only be gone for a few days, that he would be back soon — but right now, he was miles away, unreachable in this moment of crisis. Kathalina felt utterly alone, terrified, and burdened by the weight of everything resting solely on her shoulders.

When she finally arrived at the hospital mentioned by the teacher, she didn't even bother to wait for the elevator — she ran straight to the emergency wing, her legs burning, her lungs heaving, her eyes searching wildly for the room number. When she pushed open the door to the small ward, her knees nearly buckled beneath her.

"Ms. Suarez! Thank God you're here!" Teacher Elise exclaimed, rushing toward her, her face etched with worry and distress.

But Kathalina barely saw her. Her eyes were instantly, helplessly drawn to the small figure lying in the hospital bed, and a broken sob tore from her throat.

There he was — her Ethan. His usually rosy, lively cheeks were frighteningly pale, his skin almost translucent, his lips lacking their natural color. His eyes were closed, his small body looking so small, so fragile, so still amidst the white sheets and tubes. Her heart shattered right then and there, seeing the dextrose needle inserted into the back of his left hand, the clear fluid dripping slowly into his vein. He looked so weak, so unlike the bouncing, energetic boy she had kissed goodbye just that morning.

My baby… my poor, sweet baby…

She rushed to his side, taking his free hand in both of hers, pressing it against her cheek, tears falling faster than ever. "What happened? Please tell me everything," she begged, her voice cracking.

Teacher Elise stood beside her, looking deeply distressed as she recounted the events. "He was playing just fine in the morning, laughing and running around like he always does. But about an hour before lunch, I noticed he became very quiet. He just sat in the far corner of the classroom, shoulders slumped, not moving, not interacting, just staring blankly. It was so unlike him… he was so pale, Ms. Suarez. I walked over quickly to check on him, but before I could even reach him or ask what was wrong… his eyes rolled back, and he just collapsed to the floor, unconscious." The teacher shuddered slightly at the memory. "We called for help immediately and brought him here. The doctors have been monitoring him ever since."

Just then, the attending physician stepped forward, a clipboard in hand, his expression serious and professional but kind. He looked at Kathalina with sympathy before speaking in a calm, clear tone, explaining the severity of the situation.

"Ms. Suarez, based on the blood tests and clinical examinations we ran, your son is suffering from severe aplastic anemia," the doctor explained carefully. "His condition requires ongoing treatment, medication, and close monitoring — costs that will add up quickly over time. We will do everything we can for him, but I must be honest with you: this is a heavy burden for any family to carry."

The doctor's words hung in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore. Kathalina's heart sank further. She had already seen the estimates — the hospital fees, the specialized medication, the regular consultations and tests. It was far beyond what she and Luke could manage on their modest salaries. They lived simply, saved what they could, but they had no safety net, no wealthy relatives to turn to. Every bill that arrived felt heavier than the last. Ethan needed more than just someone to donate blood — he needed the kind of medical care and long‑term support that only someone with means could provide. And she had never felt so powerless, so ashamed of how little she had to give him.

"Essentially, his bone marrow is currently not producing enough new blood cells," the doctor continued gently. "This condition is life‑threatening. We need to stabilize him first through an urgent blood transfusion, then plan for ongoing treatment. The sooner we have everything in place, the better his chances."

Kathalina nodded frantically, desperate to help, already rolling up the sleeve of her uniform. "I have blood! Take mine! Please, take all you need! I am his mother — my blood must match!"

But the doctor shook his head gently, his expression shifting to one of regret and difficulty. "We ran a cross‑match test immediately when he arrived, Ms. Suarez. We needed to be prepared. Your blood type is O Positive. But Ethan… Ethan has AB Positive blood type."

Kathalina froze. Her blood ran cold, and her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach, heavy and sickening. She knew exactly what that meant. She knew the genetics, she knew the science.

AB Positive…

It was the rarest blood group of all. It was the universal recipient, yes — but finding donors was incredibly difficult because so few people had it. And more than that… she knew exactly where that blood type came from. It was the blood type of his father. The blood type of Harry Lorenzo.

A wave of crushing guilt, fear, and old pain crashed over her, nearly bringing her to her knees. She let out a cry of pure agony, clutching Ethan's small hand tighter as tears blinded her. Her mind spiraled into dark, painful places, thoughts she had buried for years rising up to taunt her.

Is this my karma? she thought desperately, her chest heaving with silent sobs. Is this the price I have to pay for what happened years ago? For everything that went wrong, for the secrets I kept, for the man I left behind? But why him? Why my innocent baby?

Her heart screamed in protest, breaking into a million sharp pieces. This is not his fault. He did nothing wrong. He is just a child. He didn't ask to be born into this mess. He didn't ask for his father to be a stranger who doesn't even know he exists. He didn't deserve to suffer because of my mistakes, my past, my wrong decisions.

"Ms. Suarez… we cannot wait much longer," the doctor said gently but firmly, pulling her back to the terrifying reality. "Every minute counts. We need to find a compatible donor as soon as possible, and secure the resources for his treatment plan. Is there any other immediate family member — his father, grandparents, siblings — who we can contact? Someone who might be able to help, in every way that matters?"

Kathalina shook her head slowly, helplessly. His father… The words felt like poison on her tongue. His father is a ghost. A name I tried to forget. A man who lives in a world far beyond what I can reach — a world of wealth and ease, while I struggle just to keep food on the table.

"I… I wish I could tell you yes," she whispered brokenly, her voice trembling. "But… no. No one close here… no one I can reach…"

Hours passed — agonizing, endless hours. Kathalina refused to leave Ethan's side except to make call after desperate call. She contacted blood banks, donation centers, hospitals across the city, pleading, begging. She also made quiet inquiries about payment plans and financial assistance, but the answers were always the same — limited funding, long waiting lists, partial coverage at best. Every refusal felt like a physical blow, every explanation felt like a heavier weight pressing down on her chest. She looked at Ethan, so small and still beneath the hospital sheets, and felt tears burning her eyes again. She worked hard — they both did — but honest wages weren't enough to fight a crisis this big.

She sat by the bedside, holding Ethan's hand, watching his chest rise and fall with shallow, labored breaths, feeling utterly defeated. She thought about Luke, wished with everything she had that he was here — but even if he were, what difference would it make? He worked as hard as she did, maybe harder, but his income was no match for hospital bills this size. And he also had type O blood, same as her. He wasn't Ethan's biological father. He loved Ethan as his own, gave him everything he could — but he couldn't give him what he needed most right now.

A terrifying realization settled over her, cold and sharp and unavoidable.

There is only one person in this world who can give him what he needs. The blood running through Ethan's veins came from him. And the life‑saving treatment Ethan requires? That, too, only he can provide. He has everything my son needs — and he doesn't even know our son exists.

The thought terrified her more than anything else ever had. The thought of him. Of Harry Lorenzo.

She hadn't seen him in four years. She had run away, hidden herself, hidden her pregnancy, built a quiet, humble life far away from his world of luxury and power. She had moved on, fallen in love with Luke, convinced herself that the past was dead and buried, that Harry was just a chapter she had closed forever. She had told herself she didn't need him, that she was better off without him, that she could raise her son on her own strength.

But now… her son's life hung in the balance. And the only key to saving him — the blood, the medical costs, the long‑term care — lay in the hands of the man she had sworn never to see again.

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, her expression hardening, shifting from grief to desperate determination. Her heart hammered with nervousness, with fear, with humiliation — but none of that mattered. Her pride didn't matter. Her past didn't matter. Her own pain didn't matter. Only Ethan mattered.

She stood up, leaning down to press a trembling kiss to Ethan's forehead, whispering a promise against his skin.

"I will save you, baby. I promise Mommy will save you. No matter what I have to do, no matter how far I have to go… I will get what you need."

She took a deep, shaky breath, her mind made up, her stomach churning with anxiety at what she was about to do. She knew exactly where he worked. She knew exactly where his company headquarters stood — a towering, prestigious building in the center of the city, a symbol of everything he had that she did not.

She would go there. She would walk into that building, past the security, past the receptionists, past everything that separated their worlds. She would find him. She would swallow every bit of her pride, every bit of her hurt, every bit of the anger she held onto. She would drop to her knees right in front of him if she had to. She would beg. She would plead.

I just hope Harry Lorenzo is not that cold‑hearted to turn us away, she thought, her heart pounding wildly in her chest at the mere thought of facing him again. I hope that somewhere inside him, there is still a shred of humanity, enough to save our son… even if he never knew Ethan existed.

And as she walked out of the hospital ward, her mind raced with a thousand conflicting emotions, fears, and reassurances. She told herself — over and over again — that this was just what a mother does. Once Ethan was safe, once he was healthy and strong again, she would leave Harry and his life alone forever. Olivia didn't need to worry about her coming back to ruin their marriage or their perfect life. Kathalina was done with them. She was contented with what she had built with Luke now; she had moved on, she had stopped loving Harry a long time ago.

But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, she was just a mother — terrified, desperate, and willing to walk through fire and face the ghosts of her past if it meant saving the life of her child.

Whatever happened when she walked through those glass doors… whatever pain or awkwardness or memories came rushing back… she would endure it. For Ethan.

She gripped her bag tighter, straightened her shoulders despite the tears still streaming down her face, and headed toward the Lorenzo Group headquarters — toward the wealth she had never wanted, the man she had left behind, and the one hope her son had. Her heart trembled with nervousness, but her resolve was unbreakable.

 

"She told herself she was done with him, that her heart belonged elsewhere — but as she approached the building that housed his world, she realized the past was never truly gone… and she was about to step right back into the eye of the storm."