Chapter 2 - One Unit of Blood
Isabella Romano asked to meet Abigail four days later.
Abigail almost said no.
Not because she disliked Isabella.
Because gratitude can be heavy.
At the hospital eight years earlier, Isabella had been seventeen.
Abigail remembered only pieces.
A pale face.
wet hair.
a nurse saying surgery was still going.
someone asking Abigail whether she had eaten.
the sting of the needle.
Isabella awake later for a few minutes, frightened and medicated.
Abigail had said:
“You’re going to be okay.”
She had no medical basis for promising.
She was twenty-one.
People say things.
Then she left.
Why refuse payment?
There had not actually been a formal payment.
Matteo’s family representative had tried to get contact information so the family could thank emergency donors.
Abigail declined.
Donor privacy mattered.
She did not want a wealthy family turning one medical act into obligation.
Her mother agreed.
Then Matteo spent years saying he was “looking for her.”
The phrase sounded more dramatic than reality.
He had asked St. Catherine and the blood center to forward a thank-you letter.
They did.
Abigail never responded.
He hired no investigator to break donor confidentiality.
Good.
Later he asked a lawyer whether he could obtain identity through records.
The lawyer said not without proper basis and consent.
So he stopped.
“Looking” became:
remembering.
asking occasionally.
wondering.
That distinction mattered when reporters started saying:
BILLIONAIRE SEARCHED EIGHT YEARS FOR MYSTERY WOMAN WHO SAVED SISTER.
Abigail hated.
She had a name.
She had not been missing.
She had chosen privacy.
So before meeting Isabella, Abigail asked hotel communications team not to give her contact information to press.
They agreed.
Then Isabella came alone to a neutral café.
No Matteo.
No security visible.
Abigail was visibly pregnant, cheek bruise fading yellow.
Isabella sat.
For a moment neither knew what to say.
Then Isabella said:
“I need to apologize.”
Abigail frowned.
“For what?”
“For calling you the person who saved my life in front of a ballroom.”
Abigail did not expect that.
Isabella continued.
“My trauma story has been simplified for years.”
Then:
“I know surgeons saved me. Nurses. Blood bank. People I never met. You donated one unit.”
Abigail smiled slightly.
“One very good unit.”
Isabella laughed.
There.
Then:
“It mattered.”
“Yes.”
Both.
No false modesty.
Then Isabella explained what she remembered.
The crash itself:
rain.
friend driving.
hydroplane.
guardrail.
metal.
then nothing.
Police concluded the driver entered the curve too fast for conditions.
No sabotage.
No Sinclair vehicle.
No secret attack.
Her friend survived with fractures.
No drunk driving.
A terrible accident.
Then surgery.
Isabella woke before second procedure.
Abigail was nearby because donor screening had just finished? The timelines may not fully line; maybe Abigail was brought to recovery? That's unusual. Better the user premise says Abigail told her under hospital lights. We preserve: Abigail had passed through pre-op corridor after donation and briefly saw Isabella being transferred, spoke when Isabella panicked. Hospital staff allowed moment because Lydia knew them? Not ideal. But accept.
Then blood supply.
Isabella now knew more.
She had O-negative blood and anti-K antibodies from prior transfusion? At seventeen prior transfusion? Maybe from congenital surgery as child. Let's establish: she had received transfusions during childhood spinal surgery, later developed anti-K antibody. Thus emergency compatible units more limited.
The hospital had some compatible blood.
Not enough for projected need.
Abigail was K-negative and O-negative, registered donor.
Her unit became available several hours later.
Another compatible unit arrived by courier.
Isabella ultimately received multiple units and plasma products.
So:
Abigail helped.
She was not the entire blood supply.
Then the system issue.
Isabella had read Lydia’s old incident report after Matteo told her.
The hospital’s emergency reserve had been below target.
Would a fully stocked reserve have contained more K-negative O-negative units?
Maybe.
Not guaranteed.
Rare compatibility makes exact counterfactual uncertain.
This prevented Richard’s bad governance from becoming:
He almost killed Isabella.
Too simple.
Then Isabella asked:
“Did your mom get fired because of that report?”
Abigail looked down.
That was harder.
Three months after incident, St. Catherine eliminated Lydia’s quality role during restructuring.
Two other roles also cut.
Lydia had been offered severance.
She signed a nondisparagement clause, not a confidentiality clause about patient safety.
She believed the timing was retaliation.
Could she prove?
No.
She had no direct email from Richard saying:
fire Lydia.
Then she found work at a smaller outpatient lab.
Lower pay.
less status.
better hours eventually.
The family adjusted.
Abigail left nursing prerequisites because tuition became impossible for a time.
That shaped her life.
But again:
not one villain deciding everything.
Then Isabella said:
“My brother wants to reopen the whole hospital issue.”
Abigail frowned.
“Your brother owns hotels.”
“Yes.”
“Not hospitals.”
“Tell him.”
They laughed.
Then Abigail became serious.
“I don’t want him using me to fight Richard.”
Isabella nodded.
“Tell him that too.”
Then:
“And I don’t want your family paying my mother.”
“Okay.”
Not:
you deserve millions.
Because any remedy should come through independent review, not gratitude.
Then Vanessa.
Isabella asked:
“Do you want me to say anything publicly?”
“No.”
Then:
“About the slap?”
“No.”
Abigail had her own lawyer through hotel employee-assistance legal referral.
Not Matteo’s.
The ballroom video spoke.
No celebrity witness needed.
Then Isabella said:
“She has always been like that.”
Abigail looked.
That kind of statement can become character evidence too easily.
“Always?”
Isabella corrected.
“I have seen her be dismissive to staff at events.”
Specific.
Would she give statement if relevant?
Yes.
But the slap itself had thirty witnesses and video.
No need pile on unrelated dislike.
Then Matteo appeared twenty minutes later?
No.
He had respected request.
Good.
Abigail went home.
Jonah had bought ice cream.
Caleb? Different story. No.
Their baby had no name yet.
Jonah wanted:
Maya.
Abigail liked:
Elise.
They had argued for two months.
Ordinary.
Then Lydia came over.
She lived twenty minutes away.
She saw Abigail’s fading cheek.
Her face changed.
“You should have hit her back.”
Jonah said:
“That is terrible legal advice.”
Lydia glared.
Then hugged Abigail.
Pregnancy made hugging awkward.
Then Abigail told her about meeting Isabella.
Lydia listened.
When Abigail said Matteo remembered the report, Lydia stood.
Went to hall closet.
Returned with a battered accordion file.
Not secret vault.
Label:
ST. CATHERINE - 2018
Inside:
performance reviews.
severance.
emails.
incident-report copy.
board messaging memo.
notes from meetings.
Abigail stared.
“You kept everything.”
“I worked in quality.”
Of course.
Then one email from hospital CEO Elaine Morris to Lydia:
Please revise wording regarding reserve below threshold. Board leadership believes current language implies causal connection to Romano outcome not established by evidence.
That concern was valid.
The report should not claim causation.
Lydia had agreed to revise causal wording.
Then next email:
For external reporting, please characterize shortage as weather-related regional supply disruption.
That was incomplete.
Lydia refused.
She wrote:
Weather was a contributing factor after initial dispatch delay. Removing the staffing component would make the record inaccurate.
Then Richard Sinclair, copied, replied:
We need one message until facts are settled. This is not the week to undermine donor confidence in the new system.
There.
Not:
fire her.
Not:
destroy evidence.
But pressure.
Then two weeks later:
Richard to Elaine:
Is Foster going to remain a public-facing problem on this?
That was worse.
Then CEO:
She is not public-facing. She filed internal quality concerns.
Then Richard:
Then keep it internal and solve the personnel issue before next quarter.
There.
Personnel issue.
Ambiguous.
Could mean staffing gap.
Could mean Lydia.
Lydia believed it meant her.
Three months later, role eliminated.
Then one more document.
A consultant review six months after incident.
It found:
centralized inventory reduced expired blood products overall by 18%.
improved daytime stock balancing.
but overnight dispatch coverage was inadequate.
emergency reserve thresholds had been set too low for two high-trauma hospitals.
weather contingency procedures unclear.
So the program was not simply corrupt.
It had benefits.
And a serious design flaw.
Then recommendations implemented:
higher overnight reserve.
24/7 dispatch.
dual courier backup.
rare-donor escalation protocol.
By then Lydia was gone.
The hospital fixed system after denying the public version.
That was the injury.
Then Abigail asked:
“Why didn’t you sue?”
Lydia laughed.
“With what money?”
Then:
“And what claim? My position was eliminated with two others. They had consultants. I had a mortgage.”
There.
Power works through cost too.
Then:
“Did Richard ever call you?”
“No.”
“Until now.”
“Yes.”
Then Lydia sat.
“What do you want?”
Abigail looked at her stomach.
Not:
revenge.
Not:
Matteo.
“I want the hotel to deal with Vanessa.”
Then:
“And I want you to decide what happens with your report.”
Good.
The old hospital issue belonged first to Lydia.
Abigail’s blood donation did not give her authority over her mother’s employment history.
Then Lydia smiled.
“You finally learned something.”
“From you.”
“No. You were stubborn from birth.”
Then the baby kicked.
Lydia put hand.
“See? Also stubborn.”
The donor story had brought two families into the same room.
But it did not merge them.
Isabella went back to her life.
Abigail went home.
Lydia kept her file.
May you like
Matteo would have to ask before touching any of it.
And this time, the Foster women were old enough to know that being remembered by a powerful man did not automatically mean he got to decide what the memory was for.
