No More Sacrifice: The Foster Daughter Strikes Back

Anastasia Stafford stood nervously outside the lounge door, clutching her phone.

On the screen was a message from her adoptive mother, Yvette Jenkins.

[Anastasia, are you almost here? Caspian has been waiting for you forever.]

Today was her engagement day. She had specially changed into her only decent dress for the occasion.

The person she'd secretly liked since she was ten, the man whose smile could make her happy for an entire day—he was about to become her fiancé!

Anastasia took a deep breath and was about to push the door open when the voices inside made her freeze.

"Mom, do you think Anastasia suspects anything?"

It was Renee Stafford's voice, soft and sweet, with a hint of playfulness. "After all, you went to the orphanage to adopt her on the exact day the citywide blood test results came out. What are the odds of that?"

"Suspect?" Yvette's voice was casual. "With her stupid brain? She's been obediently doing whatever we say all these years, hasn't she? You say you're not feeling well, and she donates blood without a second thought. Bone marrow extraction hurts like hell—has she ever refused?"

"Mom," Renee drew out the word, "don't say it like that. I actually feel pretty guilty. Especially on Anastasia's twenty-third birthday—I pretended to have an episode, and when she heard I was in critical condition, she rushed to the hospital and donated 500 milliliters of blood. Her face was so pale, it was heartbreaking to watch."

Yvette snorted. "Heartbreaking? If her blood type didn't match yours, would she have gotten to live eighteen years of the good life with the Stafford Family? These contributions are what she owes us. When she's no longer useful, we'll just kick her out."

The blood in Anastasia's body instantly froze.

Her body swayed, and she reached out to steady herself against the wall.

Eighteen years.

A full eighteen years.

She thought she'd finally been accepted by this family, but the truth was this.

She remembered her first blood donation. She had just been adopted by the Stafford Family—she was only eight years old.

When the needle pierced her thin vein, she cried from the pain.

Yvette had held her and said, "Anastasia, saving Renee is what matters. Once Renee gets better, she can play with you."

She believed it.

When she was ten, she had her first bone marrow extraction.

After the anesthesia wore off, the pain kept her awake night after night. Yvette held her hand and said, "Anastasia is so strong. Renee's recovery depends on you."

She endured it.

From repeated blood donations to bone marrow extractions to stem cell harvesting.

She couldn't remember how many times she'd done these things. She only remembered that after each time, Yvette would pat her head and say, "Anastasia is so understanding. We didn't raise you for nothing."

So that's what she meant.

"Renee, don't worry."

A male voice spoke up—it was her fiancé, Caspian Learmond.

"I'm getting engaged to her just to make her more devoted to being your donor. Once she's completely useless, I'll break off the engagement and marry you in style."

Renee said coyly, "Caspian, treating her like this—she's so pitiful."

"Pitiful? What's pitiful about it?" Caspian's tone was flat. "I've always loved you. What is she? Just a blood bag."

Anastasia bit down hard on her lower lip, tasting blood.

So in these people's eyes, her eighteen years of sacrifice, eighteen years of trying to please them, eighteen years of swallowing her pride—all of it was expected.

Her only purpose was to be Renee's blood bag!

She wanted to leave, but her legs felt incredibly heavy.

Just then, a server carrying a tray walked by and asked politely, "Miss, are you here for the engagement party? Do you need me to show you to the lounge?"

The room inside instantly went quiet.

The next second, the door was yanked open.

Yvette came out first. When she saw Anastasia, her expression changed briefly, but she quickly put on her loving mother act. "Anastasia? When did you get here? Why didn't you come in?"

Renee followed behind, her eyes immediately reddening. "Anastasia, you didn't hear everything, did you?"

Her older brother Patrick Stafford walked over from the other end of the hallway. Seeing the scene, he frowned. "What's going on?"

"Patrick," Renee grabbed his sleeve with teary eyes, "Anastasia seems to have misunderstood something. She looks awful."

As soon as Caspian came out and saw Anastasia's pale face and the tears in her eyes, a flash of impatience crossed his expression. "Anastasia, if there's something to discuss, let's go inside. Don't make a scene out here."

Anastasia looked up at the people in front of her.

Her devoted adoptive mother Yvette, her cherished adoptive sister Renee, her respected older brother Patrick, and Caspian, whom she'd loved for eight years.

She suddenly found it laughable. "I heard everything."

Yvette's eyes flickered, but she quickly put on a pained expression. "Anastasia, did you mishear? I was just joking with Renee—"

"Joking?" Anastasia cut her off, her voice beginning to shake. "You adopted me only after finding out my blood type matched Renee's, and you call that a joke? All the blood I've donated, all the bone marrow I've given—you call that a joke? Or are you saying my eighteen years are just a joke to you?"

"Anastasia!" Patrick's face darkened. "Is this how you talk to Mom? The Stafford Family took you in, and this is how you repay her?"

"Repay?" Tears finally rolled down Anastasia's cheeks. "I was adopted by the Stafford Family when I was eight. I'm twenty-six now. Do you know how many times I've donated blood, how many times I've had bone marrow extracted? I don't know, because I've lost count. Isn't that enough repayment?"

"Anastasia," Renee began sobbing, her face deathly pale. "It's all my fault. My health is too poor, and I've dragged you down. If you want to blame someone, blame me, not Mom and Patrick."

As she spoke, her body swayed.

Patrick immediately caught her, looking at Anastasia with disgust. "Look what you've done to Renee! You know she's not well, don't you? If you have a problem, take it out on me!"

Anastasia smiled bitterly. "You tell me to take it out on you. Renee has you protecting her—but what about me? Who's ever been on my side?"

Patrick's expression shifted slightly.

"Enough." Caspian spoke coldly. "Anastasia, what exactly do you want? Today is our engagement day. Do you have to make a scene?"

Hearing Caspian accuse her of making a scene, Anastasia's heart throbbed with pain. "Speaking of the engagement, let me ask you—have you ever had even a bit of genuine feeling for me?"

Caspian looked away without answering.

The answer was already clear.

Renee conveniently pretended to faint. Patrick caught her quickly, glaring viciously at Anastasia. "If anything happens to Renee, I won't let you off!"

Yvette also took a couple steps forward, but suddenly turned back. "Anastasia, I was going to let you stay with the Stafford Family with some dignity. Once Renee fully recovered, I would naturally have given you some money to leave. But since you insist on making a scene, don't blame me for not honoring these eighteen years."

Eighteen years.

Anastasia laughed, tears streaming down her face. "Do we even have anything to honor?"

Yvette's eyes turned completely cold. "Since you don't know what's good for you, I don't need to treat you as my daughter anymore."

Seeing Anastasia blocking her way, Yvette reached out without holding back and shoved Anastasia aside.

Anastasia hadn't expected her to get physical. She stumbled backward, her waist hitting the railing behind her.

The railing was low, only reaching thigh height.

Her whole body tilted backward.

"No!"

Time froze in that moment.

She saw Yvette quickly pull back her hand, her expression changing from anger to shock, but there was no trace of concern in those eyes.

Patrick, holding Renee, walked forward without looking back.

And Caspian instinctively took a step forward, trying to catch her, but just as he was about to grab her, he suddenly pulled his hand back.

Because Renee woke up at that moment, weakly calling out "Caspian," and he turned to check on her instead.

In her twenty-six years of life, no one cared about Anastasia.

Anastasia's body fell from the fourth floor, hitting the ground hard.

Intense pain instantly shot through every part of her body.

She could feel warm liquid flowing from the back of her head.

Screams erupted all around.

In the chaos, her gaze remained fixed on the railing edge on the fourth floor.

Yvette, Patrick, and Caspian were all gathered around Renee, busy comforting her.

No one looked down.

Anastasia's eyelids grew heavier, her consciousness gradually fading.

This was her ending.

In the end, she was just a blood bag that no one cared about.

If she could live again...

Her eyes closed uncontrollably.

If she could start over, she would never believe these people's lies again.

If she could start over, she would live only for herself.