Chapter 2

My heart was pounding, but I kept my voice calm: "Telemarketer."

Julian stared at me for a moment, then suddenly smiled. "You're too kind, listening patiently even to telemarketers."

He set the tray on the nightstand. "Drink this. You need to recuperate."

Five years. I'd drunk this "supplement" countless times.

I used to think it was his love.

Now I realize—it was fucking sedatives, knocking me out so he could drain my blood while I was unconscious.

I picked up the glass and, when he wasn't looking, poured the liquid under the pillow.

I moistened my lips with a drop, then turned back pretending I'd just finished it.

I closed my eyes, controlled my breathing, pretending the drug was taking effect as my body gradually relaxed into the pillow.

Julian sat by the bed for a while. After confirming I was "asleep," he stood and walked toward the door.

The door opened, but it wasn't a nurse who entered.

It was Serena.

Her voice was coquettish: "Julian, my condition's declining again. My skin's getting loose, my hair's falling out... I have an important runway show next week. I need to be at my best."

"Don't worry. I'm here."

Julian rolled up my sleeve. The alcohol swab felt cold against my inner arm.

The needle pierced my vein.

I felt the blood being drawn from my body.

Serena smiled with satisfaction. "Julian, you're so good to me. This 'golden blood bank' of yours—people would kill for access. She still thinks you really love her. Julian, you're such a good actor."

Julian laughed. "This kind of woman is the easiest to fool."

Every word was a knife, cutting into my heart one slash at a time.

The door finally closed.

I opened my eyes. Tears finally fell.

The needle mark on my arm was still bleeding.

I looked at that tiny wound and suddenly laughed.

Laughing and crying at the same time.

Clara, you're so fucking stupid.

The next morning, I forced my weakened body up and placed the divorce papers I'd prepared into my bag.

I gathered my belongings, hailed a taxi, and returned to the place I once believed to be home.

Before I even pushed the door open, I heard sounds from inside.

A woman's laughter, a man's low groans, something hitting the table.

I pushed the door open.

Julian had Serena pressed against the dining table, both of them disheveled.

Serena's black slip dress was pushed up to her waist, Julian's shirt unbuttoned completely.

Breakfast had been swept to the floor, juice spilled everywhere.

They were too absorbed to notice me.

"Julian..." Serena's voice was full of satisfaction. "You're amazing..."

Julian kissed her neck. "Only for you."

The maids saw me and panicked for a split second, but after composing themselves, their eyes were full of mockery and pity.

I suddenly understood.

They all knew.

Everyone knew.

Only I, the fool, remained blissfully unaware.

I turned and rushed to the courtyard.

My stomach churned. I gripped the edge of the fountain, dry heaving.

Nothing came up.

Just the bitterness of bile.

"What? Saw something you weren't supposed to?"

Serena's voice came from behind.

I turned around.

"Clara, you need to face reality. These five years, you thought you were the lady of this house?" She stopped in front of me, looking down.

"Wrong. You're just a container. A lowly container holding precious blood."

She extended her arm, skin smooth as porcelain. "See this? This is all thanks to you. Your blood flowing through my veins is far more valuable than it ever was in yours."

I suddenly laughed. "You know what, Serena? Rh-null blood is precious, yes, but frequent heterologous transfusions trigger severe immune rejection reactions."

I stepped closer. "You're committing slow suicide."

"You bitch!" Serena raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face.

My face whipped to the side, blood trickling from my lip.

But I didn't back down.

I turned back and slapped her right back.

The sharp sound echoed through the courtyard.

Serena froze, clearly not expecting me to fight back.

"You—" She screamed and lunged at me, shoving me hard toward the fountain behind me.

I lost my balance and crashed against the marble edge.

Serena looked at the blood gushing from my forehead, a flash of triumph in her eyes.

But the next second, her expression changed completely.

Tears came instantly, her whole body swaying, voice filled with terror: "Julian! Help! She... she's bleeding so much... I... I can't take it..."

She clutched her chest, deliberately stumbling backward, acting like she was about to faint.

Julian came rushing out.

He looked at me, blood covering my face, then at the unharmed Serena.

Then he picked up Serena.

He whirled on me, eyes cold and furious: "Clara! What the hell are you doing! You know Serena's fragile, and you deliberately cover yourself in blood to scare her to death?!"

I tried to explain, "Julian, she's the one who pushed me!"

"Stop lying!" Julian roared. "Serena's so weak, how could she possibly push you? You fell on your own and now you're trying to frame her!"

My eyes turned red with rage. I demanded, "I'm the weak one! You stole my blood to save her, didn't you?"

He finally looked at me, but his eyes were ice cold. "You're just donating a little blood. You won't die. Clara, you're so fucking selfish. Serena needs this blood to survive!"

Julian carried Serena and turned away.

I was left alone sitting in a pool of blood.

I stood up and staggered into a pharmacy.

The clerk saw me and gasped: "Oh my God! Miss, you need an ambulance!"

"No." I grabbed iodine, suture needles, and gauze. "How much for these?"

The clerk told me the price. I paid.

In the pharmacy bathroom, I faced the mirror and cleaned the wound with iodine.

The pain nearly made me pass out, but I persisted through the last stitch.

After bandaging the wound, I walked out of the bathroom.

The pharmacy TV was playing the news.

"...Renowned hematologist Dr. Julian Thorne announced today that he will donate five million dollars to establish a rare blood research fund. The fund is named after Serena and will support medical research on rare blood types such as Rh-null..."

On screen, Julian smiled at the camera, with an elegantly dressed Serena standing beside him.

The clerk said, "Being married to a man like Dr. Thorne—Serena is so lucky."

Little did she know, Julian's actual wife was the disheveled woman standing right in front of her.

I took out my phone and sent a message.

"Investigator Lucas, I have evidence regarding illegal human blood trafficking..."