Joyce stepped back, evading his reach, and walked straight to the bathroom.

“I just stepped out for a bit. My phone died.”

Caleb watched her go, a flicker of unease passing through him, but he didn’t dwell on it.

When she emerged, he headed in to shower.

Seizing the moment, Joyce picked up his phone. A pinned contact at the top caught her eye: *Anna*.

[Caleb, Singapore is so boring. I’ve already bought a ticket back to Ning City. You *have* to pick me up.]

Caleb had replied with a simple, *Okay, I’ll be waiting.*

Scrolling up, she found a constant stream of messages—daily check-ins, words of concern, the easy intimacy of a couple in love.

Even his so-called ‘business trip’ three days ago had just been a getaway to Japan with Anna.

The chat was filled with photos she’d sent him. Every image radiated intimacy, from their body language to their shared glances.

The irony cut deep.

Three years of marriage, and she and Caleb had never once traveled together.

Every time she’d tentatively brought up a honeymoon, he’d say, “Joyce, your father and brother entrusted me with the company. I can’t let them down.”

She’d accepted it. She’d perfected the role of the understanding wife, never making waves.

And in the end, he’d used a business trip as a cover to take someone else on vacation.

Her hands began to shake. Forcing herself to stay calm, she placed the phone back exactly as she’d found it, just before the water stopped.

The mattress dipped beside her. Caleb slid in from behind, wrapping his arms around her, his warm breath ghosting over her ear—his usual, unspoken signal.

Joyce couldn’t understand it. How could he even fake *this*? His physical desire?

Every time he lost himself in her, who was he really thinking of?

Swallowing the bitter ache in her chest, she pushed his arm away, her voice flat. “My period’s coming. I’m cramping.”

Caleb paused for a second, then his hand slid to her waist, giving it a gentle, placating stroke. He reined in his own desire with visible effort.

She didn’t sleep a wink that night.

Caleb was up at dawn. He put on the bespoke suit she’d bought him just last week and, for the first time ever, spritzed on cologne.

Excitement lit up his eyes, impossible to miss.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Joyce asked, her tone carefully neutral.

The smile vanished from his face. “Nothing. Just meeting an important client today. I’m off, Joyce. Don’t call me unless it’s urgent.”

His steps as he left were light, almost buoyant. Watching his retreating figure, Joyce felt the tears finally spill over, hot and silent.

So this was what it looked like when he truly loved someone. Even the mere prospect of seeing her filled him with joy.

Not like with her. With her, it had always been calm waters, a surface-level affection that never quite reached his eyes.

Once he was gone, Joyce started making calls, digging into Anna’s past.

After hitting several dead ends and leaning on a few reluctant contacts, a document finally landed on her phone. As she read it, a cold dread seeped into her bones.

Anna was Caleb’s college sweetheart. Her family, the Huangs, had once been giants in the fashion industry.

Then the Huangs went bankrupt after a massive counterfeit scandal. Anna was forced to flee the country to escape creditors, and she and Caleb broke up.

But what Joyce never could have imagined was the story Anna had spun: that the Huangs’ downfall was orchestrated by the Lin family empire. A lie that had fueled Caleb’s hatred for her family.

His entire approach had been calculated. Playing her model, pushing her out of the way of that car—every single act of ‘kindness’ was a deliberate step in a plan.

His goal? To ruin the Lin family business and restore the Huangs to their former glory.

Joyce sank to the floor of the bedroom they’d shared, a room that now felt like a museum of lies. She felt ripped in two by the warring voices in her head.

One whispered that Caleb had loved her. The other screamed that it had all been a lie.

She buried her face in her hands, her body wracked with sobs until her voice grew hoarse, teetering on the edge of collapse.

Her phone chimed. Blinking through her tears, she opened WeChat to a notification: a friend had posted a new update.

One of Caleb’s friends had shared a video. The caption read: *Welcome back, Goddess.*

I tapped to open the video. There he was, Caleb, standing at the airport arrival gate with a massive bouquet of ninety-nine red roses in his hands, his gaze fixed expectantly on Anna as she walked toward him.

The post was deleted almost immediately. *Of course*, Joyce thought. *Wouldn’t want me to see that.*

Eyes burning, she flung her phone aside, grabbed a baseball bat from the corner, and swung with all her might at the enormous wedding portrait hanging in their bedroom.

The glass shattered into a thousand pieces. So did her heart. Each breath felt like a struggle.

She had just cleared away the broken glass when her phone rang. It was Caleb, his voice tight with urgency.

"Joyce, get to the hospital. Now! It's an emergency!"

Her first thought was that something had happened to him. She rushed over without a second thought.

At the hospital, she found him disheveled, his suit torn. Before she could even ask what was wrong, he grabbed her and pushed her down onto a gurney.

"Doctor! She's Rh-negative! Hurry, draw her blood! We need it for Anna!"

Joyce's mind went blank. Caleb wanted her to donate blood for Anna? Had he completely forgotten about her severe anemia?

"Caleb—" she tried to stop him, but he was already rushing away, tossing a dismissive command over his shoulder. "Just go home after you're done. I have things to handle."

Watching his retreating back as he sprinted toward Anna's room, Joyce felt the blood in her own veins run cold.

This was the man she'd loved for years. The moment Anna reappeared, there was no room left in his world for anyone else.

Forced to donate 500cc of blood, she was lightheaded and weak. Stumbling out, she braced herself against the wall.

Just around the corner from the hospital entrance, she heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, calm down, man. It's just a scrape. She's fine."

"You don't understand!" Caleb snapped, his voice frayed with worry. "Anna's delicate. Even a small injury takes forever to heal. How can I not be worried?"

So it was just a minor scrape. And for that, he'd forced her—with her condition—to give 500cc of blood.

The last thread of strength snapped. The world tilted, and darkness swallowed her as she collapsed.

Nurses rushed over. "Ma'am? Are you alright?"

The commotion made Caleb turn. He saw her lying on the floor.

He hurried over. "What happened to her?"

A nurse who had seen them earlier shot him a disapproving look. "She has severe anemia! How could you let her donate blood? This is reckless!"

The realization hit him belatedly. He'd forgotten. He'd forgotten about her anemia.

He scooped her up and shouted for a doctor as he carried her back inside.

When Joyce woke, the room was empty.

She pressed the call button. A nurse came in to check on her.

"Oh, where's your husband? He was here just a moment ago."

A cold, bitter laugh twisted inside her.

She didn't need to think. She knew exactly where Caleb was right now. In Anna's room.

Because in his heart, Anna was his one true love, his unforgettable first.

And she? She was just a convenient blood bank—a tool to keep his precious first love safe.