I Raised His 99 Children to Save My Son Chapter 03

I Raised His 99 Children to Save My Son Chapter 03

I leaned numbly against his chest, staring into the genuine concern in his eyes, only to find it utterly, viciously ironic.

My son had been dead long before. There was no saving him now. What was the point of any of this?

Watching my blank expression, something twisted in Kian’s chest.

His voice softened. For once, he spoke to me with patience.

“Helena. I know I haven’t been around enough for you or the boy. That’s on me.”

“Let’s give him a birthday tonight together. The three of us. What do you say?”

My lips trembled. Every fiber of my being wanted to refuse.

But a family birthday—the three of us together—was the only thing my son had ever truly wanted.

Seven years. Seven birthdays. Not one of them had been celebrated properly.

Elias was born with a severe bl0od disorder. From infancy to age seven, he never left Westshire General Hospital. Every single day was pills, inje//ctions, chemotherapy.

The doctors told us early on. Only cord bl0od from a matching sibling could save him.

Again and again, I begged Kian to have another child with me, and use the cord bl0od to save our son.

He always looked at me with pure disgust. “Helena, I’ve been fucking you for a year. I’m bored.”

“You want kids? I’ve got plenty. As many as you could want.”

He messed around with countless women, fathered dozens of bastards, but never saved a single drop of cord bl0od for my son.

Elias turned one. Kian spent that birthday at a bar, screwing some random woman while I stood there watching him try to get her pregn@nt.

Elias turned two. Kian fled abroad to chase pleasure, while I was stuck in the hospital waiting on another of his mistresses giving birth.

Three, four, five, six… Every birthday, my boy lay in that hospital bed, staring hopelessly at the door.

Waiting for a father who never came. A mother who was always too busy cleaning up his messes.

Year seven. My son finally waited for him… but lost his life in the end.

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. I forced out a single word.

“Fine.”

Just this once. Throw my son a proper birthday, fulfill his last wish… then I’d let go, once and for all

Kian exhaled with relief when he saw me calm down. He barked orders to have Camille rushed to the hospital.

I crouched in the wreckage of my son’s room. Everything he’d ever owned was destroyed. Tears slid silently down my cheeks.

Piece by piece, I gathered the shattered fragments from the floor. Trying to fit them back together.

My phone rang. It was a teacher from the preschool.

“Mrs. Steele? Elias left a watch here during his last visit. Would you like to come pick it up?”

The watch. My heart clenched.

Elias barely saw Kian more than a handful of times a year. But he never stopped longing for his father.

He’d heard that Kian sometimes visited the preschool to see the other children. So on Kian’s birthday, Elias dragged his weak, sick body out of bed and sneaked over there.

He wanted to surprise his father. To say “happy birthday” just once, face to face.

He waited the entire afternoon. His little face went red from the cold. Kian never showed.

In the end, he sat there crying silently until I came to take him back to the hospital. He’d left the watch behind.

I drove straight to the preschool and retrieved it.

That evening, I set up a small birthday display in the hospital room where Elias had lived for seven years.

I laid out the food and cake, waiting quietly for Kian to show up.

Suddenly, urgent and heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway outside.

I stood up to check. The door flew open.

Kian stormed in, eyes bl0odshot, radiating pure fury.

Without a word, without a single second of hesitation, he kicked over the dinner table.

The delicate cake splattered across the floor. Warm food scattered everywhere. The watch—the watch I’d been clutching in my hands—flew from my grip and shattered against the tile.

“Kian Steele! What are you doing?!”