Chapter 1

My wife’s first love died on the day we got married. Consumed by grief and suspicion, she accused me of killing him and had me arrested. However, due to lack of evidence, I was released.

For years afterward, she screamed, “Why wasn’t it you who died instead?”

Little did she know, I really was dying.

The city buzzed that night, but the silence in our villa was suffocating. I woke at ten. My wife had been gone for three months. I’d called countless times, but she never answered. Maybe this time, she wasn’t coming back.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I drained a glass of wine. It was as sour as our three-year marriage.

My phone rang. I fumbled to answer. “Sophie, where are you—”

Her tired voice interrupted. “Come to Central Hospital now.”

“I’ll be there soon!” Worried, I rushed to the hospital.

Twenty minutes later, ignoring the pain in my stomach, I stumbled into the hospital, sprinting toward her room. Three months she’d vanished. Something must have happened.

Outside the room, I caught my breath, ran a hand through my hair, and pushed open the door. “Sophie, what happened?”

A figure stood by the window, poised and cold. My wife. She looked at me emotionlessly and pointed. “He’s here. You can draw the blood now.”

Of course, she hadn’t contacted me because she was hurt.

My chest tightened. “Sophie, I don’t feel well. I’m afraid—”

Sophia Holmes’ lips curled. Her eyes were icy. “Joshua, do you think you have a choice? You owe me this!”

I owed her? She still hated me. I smiled bitterly, ignoring the chest pain. “Sophie, I’ve told you before. His death had nothing to do with me.”

“Enough!” Her sharp voice cut me off. “Divorce me, or give me the blood. Your choice.”

Divorce? No. She was my everything. Resigned, I sat before the nurse.

Five months earlier, I’d discovered Sophia was with a boy who resembled her first love. Edison Stone. His name was similar to Edson Parker’s.

Lured by money, Edison became her obsession. He was sick—coagulopathy. Unfortunately, his blood type matched mine. I became his personal blood bank—another tool for her revenge.

The needle pierced my arm; my blood flowed, bright red and vivid.

After seventy percent was drawn, the nurse noticed my pale face. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” I rasped.

At 1400 ml, the room spun, darkness creeping in.

The last thing I heard was Sophia’s indifferent voice. “Is this enough? Take more if you need to.” Three years, and she still hated me. Would she even be sad if I died?

I woke to a white ceiling and chirping birds. The room was empty.

Pulling on my shoes, I was ready to go home. Pausing by another room, I saw my wife tending Edison with a gentleness she’d never shown me. “Is it hot?”

“No, it’s fine. Sophie, you should rest,” Edison said, his voice sharp and clear.

“I’m not tired.” Sophia’s voice was laced with exhaustion, but her movements were tender as she fed him.

Edison’s eyelashes fluttered. From my angle, he looked like Edson. Her love had never wavered. Before Edson died, she’d looked at me like that, too. But her love had turned to hate.

Perhaps my gaze was obvious. Edison turned, guilt in his eyes. “Josh, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. If it weren’t for my illness—”

Before he finished, Sophia turned, her expression cold, her eyes filled with hatred. “Why are you still here? What are you doing in the hospital?”

I watched her impatience. My heart tightened. How could a man watch his wife cheat so openly?

I wanted to explain, but Sophia stood in my way, afraid I might hurt Edison. “Joshua, if you’re not feeling well, go home. Don’t make a scene.”

I watched her protect Edison and clenched my fist. “Will you be coming home tonight?”

She frowned. Silence hung heavy before she replied, “We’ll see.”

Her indifference shattered my resolve. I didn’t understand her hatred.

For three years, rumors about her and other men were endless, yet I’d said nothing. But I couldn’t claim I didn’t care. Sophia, I loved you. I loved you so much I’d lost everything.

My stomach twisted as I left. Edison’s voice cut through the air. “Sophie, he looks really pale…” “He’s strong. He’ll be fine,” Sophia said.

The difference between true love and indifference was staggering. I touched my aching stomach, but it was in vain.

Rain fell as I stumbled to my car. I sat, staring at the storm clouds. The day we married, it had rained like this.

“Joshua, don’t think a marriage certificate changes anything. You’ll never get my love. You don’t deserve it!” Sophia had said.

Back then, I’d foolishly believed she’d one day love me. Reality had slapped me hard. Pain gripped my stomach. Sophia, I was tired.