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So Darcy O’Hara hadn’t lied. And neither had her sister. But any charitable feelings he might have felt for the women—particularly Bronte—were quickly quashed. She’d kept the boy’s existence a secret for three years. What if the child hadn’t gotten sick? Would she ever have told him about his brother’s son?
Doubtful.
He remembered the defiance in her eyes and he let the welcome wave of temper consume the black hole in his stomach.
‘The DNA results don’t just confirm a ninety-nine per cent probability that your brother fathered Nico.’ The young doctor smiled. ‘They also suggest a very good likelihood of a match between you and Nico for the purposes of his treatment. We’ll have to do a proper work-up, which will take approximately twenty-four hours, to check all the specifics but, given that you and his father were identical twins, the chances are you will be a perfect candidate, if you’re willing to give your consent?’
‘Of course,’ he said. If his bone marrow could save the child, he’d have to be a monster not to agree to do it.
Especially as Alexei had always longed for a child. It was the news that he would never father one that had sent Alexei into a tailspin of destructive behaviour as a teenager. While Lukas had stamped out any and all emotions that could make him vulnerable as a child, Alexei had done exactly the opposite—determined to live life on the edge, test every boundary and embrace the recklessness that had eventually killed him. The irony didn’t escape Lukas now—the woman he had blamed for his brother’s demise had actually given Alexei a life after his death.
For that reason alone, this child must bear the Blackstone name.
‘Would you like to meet your nephew?’ the doctor asked. ‘While we wait for the blood work?’
Lukas felt the hollow sensation grow. He wanted to say no. The one thing he had no desire to do was bond with this child. But he supposed it would be necessary to at least meet the boy.
‘Certainly, but I have business to attend to first.’ He needed to start putting the wheels in motion—to make sure he controlled this situation from here on.
He stood up and tugged his cell phone out of his pocket. ‘I’ll come back in later today to meet the child.’ Once he was fully prepared for the encounter.
The doctor sent him a tentative smile, obviously confused by his reluctance to meet his nephew immediately, but she didn’t comment except to say, ‘I’d like to inform Bronte of the news—she’ll be overjoyed to hear that you may well be the partial match we need.’
He nodded and then left the room, making the first call to his lawyer.
Somehow he doubted Bronte would be overjoyed for long.
The boy was a Blackstone now—and, once the news got out, even his devoted aunt wouldn’t be able to protect the child from the fallout.
* * *
‘So this is good news?’ Bronte felt something break open inside her as Dr Patel smiled benevolently and nodded.
‘It’s excellent news, Bronte. Obviously we have to do a full work-up, but already the signs are phenomenally good.’
‘And Blackstone has agreed to donate his bone marrow?’ Bronte asked, the joy starting to roll through her, smashing through all the barriers, all the walls she had constructed against the worst of her fears for so long. She’d had to stay strong for Nico, had refused to admit defeat or to shed a single tear through the long hours of treatment. So much so that this new glimmer of hope felt like a massive relief.
‘Yes, he has,’ the doctor repeated, not for the first time.
‘Did you tell him how gruelling it is?’ Bronte asked again, not quite able to believe Lukas Blackstone was the saviour she’d hoped for.
‘Yes, as I said, I’ve talked him through the procedure and he didn’t even bat an eyelid before agreeing.’
Bronte’s knees began to shake, the exhaustion rising up to smash through the numbness. She felt as if she were floating—floating on a wave of hope—as a single tear rolled down her cheek.
‘Bronte, sit down.’ The doctor sounded firm as she pressed her into one of the hard plastic chairs in the children’s ward waiting room. Then she handed her a tissue.
Bronte blew her nose loudly and wiped the foolish tear away, trying to take it all in. A laugh, the first real laugh she’d managed in longer than she could remember, burst out. ‘I can’t... It’s such good news I can’t quite believe it.’
Dr Patel sat down beside her and patted her arm. ‘Obviously we’ve still got a long way to go, but all the signs are good now and in our favour.’
‘I know... It’s just...’ She turned to Dr Patel. ‘I thought he was such a jerk. I’d convinced myself even if he were Nico’s uncle he’d refuse to help him.’ She screwed up the tissue in her hands, suddenly feeling guilty about her doubts and desperately ashamed of her behaviour.
She’d judged Lukas Blackstone without knowing him, had assumed he was an arrogant, privileged, entitled jerk. And now he’d agreed to do something totally amazing, and not inconsiderable, for a child he didn’t even know. The guy was a hero, whatever way you looked at it.
She sniffed, letting hope seep into her soul and forcing herself to acknowledge the truth.
Why not admit it? She hadn’t just been conflicted about alerting Lukas to Nico’s existence because it would mean breaking her promise to Darcy. But because for so long she’d been Nico’s only relative. And while she’d been desperate to find a donor for him, a small, insecure little part of her heart had wanted Nico’s saviour to be her.
