Chapter 1

Chloe's POV

"Sign it, Chloe. Now."

Alexander Sinclair’s voice was pure ice.

He slammed the divestment agreement and a set of divorce papers onto the table.

As the top billionaire in the city and my legal husband, his authority was absolute.

I stared at the thick stack of papers. The bold letters blurred together.

"Vivian's immune system failure is worsening," he stated, his eyes filled with a sickening mix of impatience and blatant disgust.

"There is an experimental stem cell and bone marrow extraction protocol overseas," he continued coldly. "It's her only hope."

I looked up at him. "It’s an unapproved, highly dangerous procedure in a black market clinic."

"And your genes are a perfect match," my father, James, barked, stepping up beside Alexander.

My mother, Shirley, glared at me with pure hatred. "You have to test it for her!"

They were cornering me. My husband and my parents, united in their cruelty.

They were forcing me to be a human guinea pig to save my sister.

Vivian. The twenty-two-year-old saint of the Sawyer family.

She played the fragile, innocent victim flawlessly.

But I knew the truth. Vivian was a ruthless hypocrite.

She wasn't sick. Her severe immune deficiency was a lie. She was a parasite, using our parents' guilt as a weapon to steal everything I had.

Even my husband.

"You owe her this!" my mother shrieked, her voice echoing in the massive, oppressive mansion.

"You lost her when she was six years old!" my father yelled, pointing a trembling, accusatory finger at my face.

"You let go of her hand, and she was kidnapped!" he roared.

"You ruined her life, and now you won't even risk yours to save her?"

I flinched. The same old lie.

She had run off on her own that day. I had begged her to stop.

But they never believed me. To them, I was the original sinner.

I was the one who deserved to bleed to make up for the years she spent away.

"If you don't do this, Chloe, I am cutting you off," my father threatened, his face red with rage. "I will disown you."

Alexander stepped closer. His towering frame cast a dark, suffocating shadow over me.

"And I will pull all Sinclair funding," he promised ruthlessly.

"The Sawyer family will be bankrupt by dawn."

I looked at the man I had loved for years.

He was using his massive wealth to crush me, all to protect my sister.

He thought he was being a savior. He had no idea he was acting as my executioner.

"Our marriage is over if you walk away from this," Alexander added, twisting the knife.

A sudden, drilling agony exploded deep inside my bones.

It felt like millions of jagged glass shards grinding in my marrow. My breath hitched.

The pain was so intense my vision went completely black for a second.

I quickly lowered my head, feigning submission, as a violent cough ripped through my chest.

I grabbed a tissue from the table and pressed it hard against my mouth.

Warm, thick liquid soaked the paper.

I pulled it away slightly.

Black blood.

My hands shook as I crumpled the tissue, swiftly hiding it inside my sleeve before anyone could see.

They couldn't know. They wouldn't even care.

Three days ago, I sat in a cold, sterile doctor's office and received my death sentence.

Late-stage bone cancer.

My hematopoietic stem cells were in total, irreversible failure.

The doctor’s words still rang in my ears like a funeral bell. "You have less than a month to live. "

My life was already on a countdown.

I looked back up at Alexander.

"Do you even care that I could die on that operating table?" I asked him, my voice barely a whisper.

Alexander sneered, his handsome face twisting with contempt. "Vivian is the one dying. Stop being so incredibly selfish."

I turned to my parents. They looked at me as if I were a piece of garbage.

A dying woman doesn't need pride.

A dying woman certainly doesn't need a husband who despises her.

"Fine," I said softly.

Alexander blinked. He froze, caught off guard by my sudden compliance.

"I'll do it. I'll test the procedure for Vivian."

I reached out and picked up the heavy gold pen.

My hand was perfectly steady as I hovered over the deadly consent form.

If I did this, I would never wake up from that black market surgery.

Good. Let this nightmare end.

I didn't hesitate. I signed my name in sharp, clean strokes.

The moment the pen lifted, the heavy tension in the room instantly shattered.

My parents exhaled a massive, collective sigh of relief.

"Thank God," my mother gasped, wiping a fake tear from her eye.

"You finally did the right thing," my father said.

His harsh face instantly smoothed into a mask of fake, paternal warmth.

"We won't treat you unfairly, Chloe," my mother promised.

She stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with a sickening, false sincerity.

"After the surgery is done, we'll split the family assets," she swore. "Half for Vivian, half for you. You won't lose out."

I looked at their relieved, overjoyed faces.

They were practically sending me to the slaughterhouse, yet they were celebrating their own generosity.

I slowly shook my head.

I swallowed hard, forcing down the thick, metallic taste of blood rising in my throat.

I buried the suffocating, bitter sorrow deep inside my shattered heart.

I pushed the signed agreements across the table, right into Alexander's hands.

"Give it all to Vivian," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I won't be needing it."