My Kidnapper Became My Husband

Evelyn's POV

My fiancé abandoned me at a suburban gas station. Sophia Rose—his precious first love—had a concert he couldn't miss.

Thugs found me there. Dragged me into an abandoned warehouse. Raped me. Injected me with poison.

When I begged him for help, he sneered: "You think I'd marry a used-up whore? Stay the hell away from me."

He had his arm around a glowing Sophia. They were married within weeks.

Alexander Kane saved me that night.

A mafia boss. He brought me back from death. Counseled me. Hired the top doctors in the country for experimental treatments.

Even when my body wouldn't fully heal, he vowed to keep me safe for life.

Being his wife for five years? Pure magic.

Then tonight happened.

I overheard him on a call in his study.

"So the gas station attack—that was your setup."

"Exactly. Sophia needed her fairy tale ending with her idol."

"Boss, if Evelyn ever learns you married her just to save Sophia..."

"She won't learn anything. Sophia's blood disease is killing her. Needs constant transfusions. I exhausted every Kane connection. Only Evelyn matches. Perfect blood type. Zero rejection rate."

"I'll repay this with everything I have. But Evelyn stays in the dark until Sophia recovers."

My rescue was just his scheme.

Then I'll make him pay.

The study door was cracked open.

I stood outside holding coffee, planning to bring him a late-night snack after he'd just handled a dock shootout.

Alexander's low voice floated out, mixed with cigar smoke.

I stopped.

"Man, Evelyn got the short end of the stick. Normal people need half a month to recover from one blood purification. Boss, you put her through FIVE of those." Marco actually sounded sympathetic.

The coffee cup trembled violently in my hands.

"Sophia's parents took bullets meant for me during our retreat. The Morettis riddled them with bullets." He said it flat. "To keep Sophia alive, forget five times—I'd do fifty."

"But lying to a woman who truly loves you—doesn't your conscience hurt?"

"Lie? What lie?" He laughed coldly. "Without me, Evelyn would've died in that warehouse. Five years of Kane family protection, the mansion, cars, jewelry—I've been GOOD to her."

"Besides, her blood clots fast. Taking a little each month won't hurt her..."

The coffee cup slipped from my grip. Crashed onto the Persian rug.

Scalding liquid splashed my ankle. I felt nothing.

The pain in my chest hurt more.

Fast clotting meant he could drain me at will?

Five whole years. Every monthly "checkup blood draw." His casual "just a little"—that's all it was to him?

I was nothing but a walking blood bank.

My legs gave out. I slid down the wall.

Tears poured down my face. Salty and bitter.

Alexander had lied. Said my constitution was special, toxins cleared slowly, required regular blood monitoring.

I believed him like a FOOL. Cooperated obediently with five blood exchange procedures.

And the result?

All that blood went to keeping Sophia alive.

Worse—

That nightmare night was HIS doing.

I thought a mafia boss happened to save me. Turns out he DIRECTED the whole thing from start to finish.

Destroy me first, then play savior.

Make me fall gratefully in love with him. Willingly become his blood bag.

Outside, a summer night pressed against the windows. I shook with cold.

I heard the leather chair scrape in the study. Alexander was coming out.

I struggled to my feet, stumbled into the master bathroom.

I turned the faucet on full blast. Rushing water drowned out my muffled sobs.

"Evelyn?" Alexander knocked. "What's with the sudden shower? Where's the coffee?"

I sucked in a breath. "Spilled it. Got it on me."

His tone immediately relaxed. "Careful you don't burn yourself. Need help?"

"No. I'm almost done."

Cold water beat down on me. I forced myself to think clearly.

Looking down at my inner arm—those countless needle marks, like something had bitten me repeatedly. Some had healed. Some still showed faint bruises.

Five years. Countless blood draws.

Each time he'd hold my hand, soothe me gently: "Don't be afraid. I've got you."

Those words. Those looks. Those seemingly devoted moments.

ALL of it was an act.

When I stepped out, Alexander was there with warm milk.