My fiancé dumped me the moment he found out about my rare blood type.

"That condition of yours? Yeah, it'd just drain my wallet."

I was spiraling when Vincent showed up—like some knight in shining armor, pulling me out of the wreckage. He didn't care about my blood type. We barely dated before he proposed, and for a while, married life felt perfect.

Until a year later, when I overheard him talking to a doctor.

"Vincent, you already took 400 milliliters of Sophia's blood last month, and now you want another 200? Are you insane? Even if you love Emma, you can't just drain an innocent woman dry for her!"

"A little more won't kill her. Stop overreacting."

My head spun. My whole body went cold.

That's when it hit me—our perfect marriage had been a lie from the start.

Inside the study, Vincent Arnault and Dr. Andrew Linacre were still arguing, not even bothering to keep their voices down.

"I care about Sophia's health too," Vincent insisted. "That's why I called you. You're my most trusted friend and a top doctor. If anything happens, you'll handle it."

Andrew sighed. "If Sophia ever finds out you married her just to use her blood for Emma... that you're planning to use your future kid's umbilical cord blood to cure Emma's leukemia... Do you have any idea how much that would destroy her? She actually loves you."

"She'll never find out," Vincent said, shutting him down.

"And when Emma's better? You gonna divorce Sophia and marry her?"

"We'll deal with that later." This time, his voice wavered.

Silence.

Andrew popped open a bottle of wine and poured himself a drink. "Sophia's fiancé ditched her the second he learned about her rare blood type.

"Then, by some sick twist of fate, he found your post on the dark web looking for her blood. So, he just handed her over—like a transaction.

"She really can't catch a break, huh? One scumbag after another."

Crash!

Glass shattered. Vincent's furious voice followed.

"Don't compare me to that bastard! I gave Sophia a dream life—luxury, love, everything! I didn't have to marry her, but I did. I've given her my whole life. Isn't that enough? She's happy with me. As long as she never finds out the truth, nothing has to change."

Andrew sighed. "Then you better keep lying forever. And keep it down—don't wake her up."

"She drank the milk. She's out."

"Still, watch it. Too much sleeping medication builds tolerance. Enough talk—go draw the blood."

Their words cut through me like a blade. My legs nearly gave out.

As their footsteps neared, I forced myself to stumble back to the bedroom.

So that milk Vincent gave me? Laced with sleeping pills. But tonight, my stomach had been off—I'd thrown it up not long after drinking it.

And those mornings I woke up groggy, my arm covered in tiny puncture marks? Vincent always blamed mosquitoes. He was so convincing—I actually believed him.

But now I knew the truth.

Our so-called love story had never been fate.

It was all a lie.

A knock at the door. Vincent's voice followed.

"Sophia, are you asleep?"

I wiped my tears, forced my face into place, and stayed silent.

When I didn't answer, he just walked in. No hesitation.

Our eyes met. Shock flickered in his, but he covered it fast, slipping into his usual act. "You're still awake? Why didn't you answer me?"

I smiled, bright and easy. "I was watching videos. Didn't hear you. Hey, what's Andrew doing here so late?"

Behind him, Andrew was already sweating. "Uh... well, you know... Vincent and I haven't caught up in a while, so I stopped by. You don't mind, right?"

"Of course not. You're always welcome." I grinned.

My clueless act seemed to put Vincent at ease. He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around me. "Did you drink the milk? It's good for sleep."

Milk laced with sleeping pills. Yeah, real helpful.

I sneered inside but kept up the act. "Yeah, but my stomach was off. I threw up."

Vincent tensed. "Threw up? Are you... pregnant? Andrew, check her."

Andrew frowned. "I'm not a scanner, man. I can't tell just by looking. Sophia, go to the hospital tomorrow for a test."

"Okay."

"Thank you for everything. I love you." Vincent pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, all tenderness and warmth. But inside, I felt nothing but ice.

If I faked a pregnancy, I wouldn't have to give blood tonight, right?

"Andrew, I'll hang out another time. I want to stay with Sophia," Vincent said, sending him away before crawling into bed beside me, holding me like he was comforting me.

I shut my eyes but stayed on high alert. If I fell asleep, he might draw my blood again.

The man I married was nothing more than a monster in disguise.

I had to leave him. Quietly. Completely.

As Vincent's soft breathing turned into light snores, I carefully reached for his phone, pressing his finger against the sensor to unlock it.

His messages with Emma Ortega popped up immediately.

Vincent: [Good news—Sophia might be pregnant. Once we get the baby's umbilical cord blood, you'll be cured.]

Emma: [Really? That's amazing! When I'm healthy again, what do you plan to do with her and the child?]

Vincent: [Don't worry. Once everything is over, I'll send them away. They won't interfere with your life.]

Emma: [She loves you so much. Will she really leave willingly?]

Vincent: [If she refuses, I'll threaten her with her family and friends.]

Emma: [Vincent, you're so good to me... I'm sorry for dragging you down, forcing you to marry a woman you don't love.]

Vincent: [As long as you're happy and healthy, I'd do anything.]

After tucking me in with sweet words, he turned right around and whispered love to someone else.

I opened his photo album. The screen filled with images of him and Emma—countless moments of their happiness together.

Digging deeper, I found his business contracts. Nearly all his major deals were with the Ortega family. He'd showered Emma with luxury properties, jewelry, designer bags... but that wasn't the worst part.

His office sat at the top of his skyscraper. Right next door? Emma's private recovery suite, stocked with state-of-the-art medical equipment. A helicopter on the rooftop stood ready to rush her to the hospital at a moment's notice.

Love is in the details. And every detail made it painfully clear who he truly cherished.

I shut the phone, unable to stomach another second of it.

Instead, I turned to what really mattered—finalizing my immigration paperwork and securing my one-way ticket out of here.

The only thing left? Saying goodbye.

At sunrise, I stepped out of the house, only to be stopped by the butler.

"Mrs. Arnault, Mr. Arnault wants you to go to the hospital today for a pregnancy test."

Of course. Vincent wasn't excited about a baby—he was excited about Emma's cure.

The results came back fast: not pregnant. Relief flooded me.

Just as I left the hospital, my phone rang.

"Darling, come to my office. I have a surprise for you."

Perfect. I had a surprise of my own—I wanted to see Emma's luxurious recovery suite with my own eyes.

Before heading to Arnault Corp, I made a quick stop. Bought a recording pen.

The moment I walked into the tower, I caught two employees gossiping in a corner.

"She got here this morning. Mr. Arnault personally escorted her to the suite. To cheer her up, he even gave her this insane ruby jewelry set. I saw it—it was so dazzling, I nearly went blind."

"So jealous. She's not his wife, but she's the one he actually loves. I heard that once she recovers, he's divorcing his wife to marry her."

"Obviously. They were meant to be. If she hadn't gotten sick, they would've been married ages ago. His current wife? Just some ordinary woman—her only purpose was to be Emma's blood bank."

"Wow. Rich people live in a whole different world. Where'd you hear all this?"

"My sister works at Emma's hospital!"

They were too caught up in their conversation to notice me. Not that I stood out—just Vincent's plain, forgettable wife.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and headed for the top floor.

Straight to Vincent.