Chapter 1

Three years ago, to save my Clan Lord husband from a hunter's death trap, I forced him to stop at the border.

Instead, his First Embrace, Seraphina, crossed in his place and was burned to ashes.

Shattered by her death, he suffered a breakdown and was diagnosed with Crimson Frenzy.

For three years, I let him wildly drain my source blood, cheating death in underground clinics countless times.

This time, his violent feeding caused a miscarriage and permanently destroyed my ability to conceive.

Yet, while still in agony and desperate to find him a cure, I overheard his secret conversation with the butler.

"My Lord, Seraphina is still alive. Why keep faking this illness? If the Madame finds out and severs the Blood Pact..."

"Sever it? What right does she have? If she hadn't blocked me back then, Seraphina would never have run off with another vampire. She deserves every bit of this suffering!"

......

My hand jerked. The potion splashed onto my palm, scalding a red mark into my skin.

Valerius's tone suddenly softened.

"It's been three years, yet Seraphina is as beautiful as ever. It seems that man takes good care of her. She must be happy."

The butler swallowed hard. "But the Madame's miscarriage this time severely damaged her source blood. The clinic says she might never be able to conceive again. If this is exposed..."

Valerius's voice instantly dropped to a freezing pitch. "Then take it to your grave. She must never know."

He sighed. "When I lost Seraphina, I did lose my mind for a while. The first time Elara couldn't take it anymore and demanded to sever our pact, I made up the Crimson Frenzy excuse on the spot just to trap her."

"But I've figured it out now. Since Seraphina is living well, I'm ready to turn the page and settle down with Elara. As for children... we'll eventually have them."

I stood there, pressed flush against the freezing stone wall.

A violent spasm ripped through my stomach.

Three years ago, I learned that hunters had taken a bounty to ambush Valerius outside the barrier.

I rushed to the border checkpoint and stopped him.

That cross-border mission was crucial, tied to the clan's external trade posts and territorial security. He was caught in a dilemma.

That was when Seraphina—his adjutant and the familiar in charge of external liaisons—volunteered to go alone. She claimed she could lure the hunters away.

But the tragic news arrived shortly after: Seraphina had been incinerated by the hunters' Sunscorch spell, leaving no remains.

Valerius suffered an immediate mental breakdown, subsequently falling victim to "Crimson Frenzy."

For three years, to tend to his condition, I was repeatedly pinned down and drained of my source blood.

I wore turtlenecks year-round to hide the fresh bite marks layered over old scars on my carotid artery.

Pushed to the brink of death, I always told myself: He is sick. He is just drowning in guilt.

I never imagined that all his heartbreak, his raging madness, were simply because the woman he truly loved was with someone else.

I turned around with the tray, forcing myself to walk back to the bedchamber.

Soon after, Valerius walked in.

He came up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and nuzzled his chin affectionately against my shoulder.

"Why are you zoning out standing here?" he asked softly, sounding exactly like the perfect husband. "Still feeling unwell?"

Just two nights ago, during a "frenzy" episode, he pinned me to the floor with bloodshot eyes.

The second his fangs pierced my veins, he slammed his knee brutally into my stomach.

The tearing agony caused me to black out instantly.

When I woke up in the clinic covered in blood, my four-month-old fetus had been reduced to a pool of dead blood.

Then, this husband who constantly proclaimed his love for me, knelt by my bed sobbing bitterly, kissing my fingertips and swearing he would control himself from now on.

And I had been naive enough to think about helping him get cured.

In reality, there was no illness. No loss of control.

He truly wanted to kill me. And it was even truer that he was completely lucid while using my body to vent his possessive rage over another woman.

Right now, feeling his body heat seep through the fabric, I felt nothing but sheer disgust.

I lowered my eyes, forcefully suppressing my trembling vocal cords.

"I'm fine."

Valerius let me go, walked around to face me, and cupped my cheeks.

"Don't always stay cooped up in the castle, it's bad for your recovery. In a few days, I'll take you on a nightwalk by the sea. Let's go clear our minds."

Looking at his face, I recalled our century-old pact ceremony.

It was the highest Blood Pact among vampires. Sharing power, sharing life, absolute loyalty.

"The miscarriage was just an accident," Valerius continued. "Elara, once we get past this hurdle, we'll love each other even more than before."

I looked at him and drew my conclusion: it turns out that when a person's heart completely dies, there are no tears left to cry.

Before I could respond, his communication stone suddenly flashed an ominous red.

Valerius's brow furrowed imperceptibly.

"Something urgent came up at the border barrier. I need to handle it personally. Go to sleep early tonight, don't wait up for me."

His footsteps vanished completely down the corridor.

I pulled open the bottom drawer. Inside lay two tiny pieces of baby clothing I had sewn by hand.

Then, I pulled out a cross-shaped bone whistle.

Staring at the baby clothes, I channeled my spiritual energy into the whistle and made the call.

"Brother, I want to sever the Blood Pact."