There, I met my biological parents who insisted I donate blood to Melisa after her car accident. They argued that if it weren’t for that accident, they wouldn’t have found out about our true identities and I wouldn’t have had the chance to return to the Jordan Family. They expected me to be grateful to Melisa.
They were so afraid I’d refuse that they had two bodyguards hold me down. I tried to explain—I had no problem helping Melisa, she was my mom’s biological daughter after all. But no one listened.
I passed out during the transfusion. Later, I learned that donating 900 cc of blood at once could have cost me my life.
When I woke up, I was alone. My parents and brother were all in Melisa’s hospital room. They didn’t seem to care much about their biological daughter—it was like they had already replaced me.
On the day I left the hospital, I finally came face-to-face with Melisa. I greeted her warmly, but she shied away behind our mom, claiming she was scared. No matter how many times I reassured her, she didn’t trust me. Once, when we were alone, she even accused me of pushing her down the stairs—a complete fabrication.