I stared at the pool of blood on the floor, calm. Then I pulled open the drawer and took out the two documents I'd prepared.

A divorce agreement.

A forced share-withdrawal notice for the company.

The digital lock on the front door beeped.

Reginald walked in with his arm around Katherine, and the first thing he saw was the withdrawal notice in my hand.

He let go of Katherine, crossed the room in three strides, and snatched the document from my grip.

His eyes skimmed it twice before he ripped it in half and threw the pieces in my face.

“Withdrawal? Gloria, do you really have to resort to these childish tactics to threaten me?”

He tugged at his tie, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

“The company's seventh-anniversary children's line launch is tomorrow. Once it's over, I'll deal with your little tantrum.”

The next afternoon. The launch venue.

I stood backstage on legs that could barely hold me.

That commemorative children's collection was my final work, sketched stitch by stitch before my diagnosis, in memory of the child I lost.

Thunderous applause rolled in from the main stage.

Reginald took Katherine's hand and led her into the spotlights.

My design drafts filled the giant screen behind them.

Reginald leaned into the cluster of media microphones, his voice soft and warm.

“This collection was inspired by Katherine's journey as a mother-to-be, carrying new life.”

“Today, we're proud to debut it as our flagship line.”

The audience erupted in admiration.

A high-pitched buzz filled my skull, and cold sweat soaked through my back in an instant.

The warning signs of acute organ failure crashed over me like a wave. My heart seized, as though a fist had closed around it and refused to let go.

I braced myself against the wall, fumbling through my bag with shaking hands for the imported emergency medication.

The hidden compartment had been opened.

The bottle was empty.

Nothing left but a few specks of white powder clinging to the glass.

After the launch ended, Reginald brought Katherine backstage.

She was wearing the couture gown originally made for me, the one meant for the lead designer. Her smile was radiant.

I was slumped in a chair, fingers locked around the empty bottle, my vision already blurring at the edges.

Reginald walked over and glanced down at the bottle in my hand.

“Katherine said she liked the color of the bottle. The vitamins inside, she just dumped them out to feed some stray cats.”

He kicked the bottle aside.

“You're perfectly healthy. Why the act? It's one outfit. What's the big deal if Katherine wears it?”

“This company's going to belong to Katherine's child someday anyway.”

His gaze swept over my sweat-drenched clothes with open disgust.

“Go home. Don't stand around here looking like a wreck and embarrassing me.”

I said nothing.

I looked at the face in front of me, that hollow, faithless face, and a faint laugh slipped out of me.

The smile cracked my dry lips. There was no life in it.

Reginald froze. His brow furrowed deeper.

“What are you laughing at?”

I didn't answer. I gripped the armrest, pulled myself to my feet, and walked step by step toward the doors, out into the downpour.

Rain hammered against my body, cold enough to cut to the bone.

I took out my phone and opened the last message from my doctor. The final option.

【Consent to immediate anti-cancer blood-replacement surgery.】

The success rate was negligible. The most likely outcome was dying on the table.

I pressed confirm.

Then I pulled out the SIM card and dropped it into the rushing water of the storm drain.

I sat alone on a bench at the side of the street. The world in front of me had already split into overlapping shadows.

The rain fell harder.

From somewhere in the distance came the shrill wail of an ambulance siren, its red and blue lights tearing through the curtain of rain.

A familiar black Maybach sped past without slowing.

It was Reginald's car.

The wheels cut through a puddle, and a sheet of cold, muddy water splashed across my body.

Consciousness slipped away in pieces.

The ER gurney stopped beside me, and several people in white coats rushed over.

They lifted me onto a stretcher.

Blood poured from between my thighs, soaking the white sheet beneath me red.

The surgical lights overhead seared my eyes shut.

“Massive hemorrhage! Late-stage organ failure complications! Blood pressure below 50!”

“Get the Rh-negative blood from the bank! The last two units in the city came in yesterday. Go, now!”

Monitor alarms screamed from every direction.

I lay beneath an oxygen mask, too weak to lift a single finger.

Minutes bled into each other.

Dr. Lambert, the attending physician leading my resuscitation, answered a phone call. The color drained from his face, and his eyes went red.

“What do you mean the blood's been taken? That blood is keeping someone alive! Who authorized this?!”

The nurses wheeled my bed forward, trying to rush me to the ICU.

At the far end of the corridor, right at the entrance to the hospital's VIP wing.

From a few meters away, I heard that familiar voice.

Katherine Fox sat in a wheelchair, a small Band-Aid on her knee, dabbing at her tears.

“Reginald, I just took a little fall. My stomach really hurts……”

Reginald held her close, his face tight with concern.

Dr. Lambert charged over and seized Reginald by the sleeve.

“Mr. Dickerson! You used your connections to commandeer those two units of Rh-negative blood from the bank? That blood was for a critical patient in the ER!”

Reginald shook him off, his gaze cold as iron.

“I don't care about some critical patient. My privilege exists to protect my family.”

He pointed at Katherine's belly.

“She's carrying a Dickerson heir. Her stomach hurts, so this blood stays right here. Just in case.”

“If she loses a single hair on her head, this entire hospital will answer for it!”

Dr. Lambert was shaking with rage：“This is two lives versus a scraped knee! You'll pay for this!”

I lay on the gurney.

Through the cold air, I watched my husband at the end of that corridor, losing his mind over his mistress.

My body temperature was plummeting. Beneath me, blood pooled into a river.

But the moment I heard his voice, something in me went quiet. I had never felt this free in my entire life.

Dr. Lambert ran back to my side, eyes rimmed red, barking orders for a bloodless resuscitation protocol.

“Doctor.”

I spent the last of my strength pulling the oxygen mask from my face.

My voice was barely a thread, but every word was clear.

“Stop the resuscitation. I signed the consent form.”

With trembling hands, I pressed a bloody fingerprint onto the electronic tablet the nurse held out.

【Do-Not-Resuscitate Consent Form.】

【Full-Body Organ Donation and Cremation Authorization.】

“Do it now. Before the organs fail.”

I closed my eyes.

The heart monitor flattened into a single, steady line.

A long, piercing wail tore through the entire ER corridor.

At the same time, in the VIP ward.

Reginald was peeling an apple for Katherine, careful and attentive.

Without warning, a tearing pain ripped through his chest, sharp and sourceless.

The paring knife slipped from his hand and clattered against the floor.

Then his phone buzzed.

The screen read 【City Central Hospital Morgue】.

He answered.