My Son Needed Rare Blood. I Donated. The Doctor Compared Our Files And Called The Police
Subscribe to Cheating Tales Lab.
Now, let’s begin.
The fluorescent lights of the community center gymnasium hummed overhead as Alexander Lewis wrapped his hands, watching a kid half his age bounce on his toes across the ring. Four years of this—teaching boxing to teenagers who reminded him of everything he’d lost. But it kept him sane, kept him focused, kept him from drowning in the silence of his one-bedroom apartment where a child’s laughter used to echo.
“Keep your guard up, Tommy,” Alex called out, his voice steady despite the familiar ache in his chest.
“Protect yourself at all times.”
The phrase felt like a cruel joke. He’d failed to protect the one person who mattered most.
His phone buzzed in his gym bag. Unknown number.
He almost didn’t answer. Creditors had long since given up, and everyone else worth talking to had his number saved.
But something made him swipe.
“Is this Alexander Lewis?”
A woman’s voice—clipped, professional.
“This is Mercy General Hospital in Asheford. We have your son, Daniel Lewis, in our emergency room.”
The world tilted.
Alex gripped the ropes of the boxing ring, knuckles white.
“What happened?”
“Car accident. He’s stable but critical. We need to speak with you about a blood transfusion.
Can you come immediately?”
“I’m six hours away.”
“Mr. Lewis, your son has AB negative blood. It’s extremely rare.
His mother and her family don’t match. We’ve checked every database in the region. You’re listed as AB negative in our records from when Daniel was born.”
Alex was already moving, yanking his bag from the bench.
“I’m leaving now.”
“Sir, I need to inform you.
There are legal complications. Your ex-wife has full custody.”
“I’ll be there in five hours.”
He ended the call.
The highway stretched endlessly before him. His old pickup pushing eighty-five.
Alex hadn’t allowed himself to think about Daniel in any specific way for four years.
Thinking led to remembering. Remembering led to the photographs he’d hidden in a lockbox under his bed, and the photographs led to a darkness he couldn’t afford.
But now the memories flooded back, unbidden.
He’d met Vanessa Chapman at a friend’s wedding in the summer of 2018. She’d been luminous in a green dress, laughing at the edge of the dance floor.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
TAP → NEXT PAGE → 👇
