Reborn To Let You Fall Chapter 2

Ethan sat down so hard the chair legs scraped a harsh, metallic screech across the linoleum.

"Ask."

I looked at him through the camera viewfinder.

Twenty-three years old. Spine straight as a ramrod, brass buttons polished, eyes ablaze with the romantic delusion of dying for love.

In my past life, that look terrifed me. It was too bright, too hot—a fire that would burn him to ash, leaving me to sweep up the debris.

I cleared my throat and spoke clearly.

"First: Dr. Porter has already outlined that this procedure uses peripheral blood stem cell mobilization. The mobilization injections can cause bone pain, low-grade fevers, and severe fluctuations in white blood cell and platelet counts. Do you understand this?"

Ethan’s jaw clenched. "Yes."

"Second: You have a clinical history of borderline coagulation metrics. While not an absolute medical contraindication for donation, it means your recovery period requires significantly more rest and frequent hematology follow-ups than an average donor. Do you understand?"

Dr. Porter chimed in, "We have emphasized this repeatedly. It is medically feasible, Ethan, but it is not zero-risk."

Ethan said, "I understand."

"Third: In two weeks, you are scheduled for the final selection round of Project Apex—the military’s highest-altitude special tactical unit. That selection has zero-tolerance criteria for recent blood draws, immune fluctuations, or physical compromise. Donating stem cells now may cause your clearance to be deferred, transferred, or permanently canceled. Are you fully aware of this?"

The narrow room went dead silent.

Arthur’s brow twitched. "Dr. Porter... aren't stem cell donations generally completely safe for young men?"

Dr. Porter turned to him. "For an average civilian, yes, it’s safe. But elite special tactical medical clearances operate on absolute physiological thresholds. They are two entirely different standards."

Arthur’s face darkened noticeably.

In my past life, he had gone silent at that exact detail, too. But the moment Harper died, he conveniently forgot that he, too, had hesitated out of fear for our son’s career.

Ethan slammed his fist onto his knee. "I know the risks!"

I moved to the next item. "Fourth: For three months post-collection, medical guidelines strictly prohibit high-intensity endurance training, specifically extreme physical loads in high-altitude, hypoxic environments. If you violate medical advice, severe physiological damage could occur. Do you confirm?"

"I confirm!"

"Fifth: Even if Harper receives your stem cells, it does not guarantee immediate or permanent recovery. She faces long-term graft-versus-host disease, infection risks, and potential relapse. Do the Wards understand this medical reality?"

Mrs. Ward lost her temper. "What are you saying?! Are you cursing my daughter?!"

"I am stating clinical facts on the record," I turned my gaze directly to Harper in her wheelchair. "Harper Ward, answer me directly. Are you voluntarily accepting Ethan Hayes’s donation? And do you understand that this donation creates zero legal, financial, or marital obligation for Ethan to marry you, support you, or care for you for the rest of his life?"

Ethan snapped, "Mom! That’s out of line!"

Harper’s long eyelashes fluttered violently. She hadn't expected me to drag that unspoken expectation into the light.

In my past life, she had died—and because she died, she remained pure, blameless, and frozen forever as the tragic angel of Ethan’s youth.

In this life, whether she lived or died was up to fate. But I was going to make sure she stated on camera that she had no right to wrap her illness around my son’s neck like a leash.

Harper choked back a sob. "I... I accept voluntarily. I understand."

I turned my head toward Arthur. "Colonel Hayes, as his father, do you support Ethan’s donation? And do you acknowledge that these risks are fully disclosed, and that the consequences will be borne entirely by Ethan himself—not by me?"

Arthur’s face turned thunderous. "Do you really have to make this so cold and ugly, Evelyn?"

"Yes," I answered without a second’s hesitation. "Because you are exceptionally skilled at rewriting history after the fact."

He slammed his hand on the table. "Evelyn!"

"The camera is rolling, Arthur," I said quietly.

He froze, his hand hovering over the wood.

Mr. Ward frantically grabbed a pen. "We’ll sign! We’ll all sign! As long as it saves Harper, we’ll agree to anything!"

I pulled out the supplementary legal waivers I had prepared—four identical copies. One for the academy board, one for the ethics committee, one for the Wards, and one for our family.

Ethan signed his name with a cold, mocking sneer. His pen dug so hard into the paper it nearly tore the sheet.

Arthur signed. The Wards signed in a frenzy. Harper’s hand shook so badly her signature was barely legible.

The final page was a handwritten personal declaration I required from Ethan himself. He stared at me like he wanted to rip me apart with his bare hands, then wrote line by line:

I, Ethan Hayes, voluntarily donate my stem cells. I have been fully informed of all physical, academic, and career risks. All future impacts on my health and military standing are my sole responsibility. I release my mother, Dr. Evelyn Hayes, from all liability.

I gathered the documents, scanned them with my phone, uploaded them to a secure encrypted cloud server, and emailed them directly to my military medical board account.

Ethan stood up, his chair clattering backward. "Satisfied now, Mom?"

I zipped my tote bag shut. "Hardly satisfied, Ethan." I looked him dead in the eye. "It’s just that from this moment on, your life is finally your own responsibility."