After I left, he begged me for forgiveness.

Honk. Honk.

A silver-gray sedan stopped outside the gate. The window was half rolled down, and I saw Grant in the driver’s seat, waving at me.

My heart leapt. For a moment, hope flooded through me, and I ran toward the gate.

But before I could push it open, two bodyguards stepped out from the shadows.

Expressionless, they seized me roughly, dragging me back inside like I was nothing more than cargo.

I struggled with all my strength, but they forced me into the study.

Brian sat behind his desk, his face cold and sharp, his long fingers tapping lightly against the wood.

“So you really planned to leave?” he said calmly.

I didn’t answer. I just stared at him, my eyes hollow.

His faint smile disappeared, replaced by a dark, heavy chill.

“If you’re that eager to go, then finish what you owe first.”

Moments later, my hands were tied behind the chair.

The metallic glint of the syringe caught the light, and a cold sensation spread through my veins.

The doctor’s voice trembled. “Mr. Brian, your wife has a heart condition. Taking too much blood could be life-threatening. And though she and Miss Daisy share the same blood type, her blood pressure is dangerously low.”

“Enough,” Brian said icily. “Do as I say. Daisy is pregnant. Nothing can happen to her.”

A chill ran down my fingertips.

I bit my lip hard, my breathing growing shallow.

“Does it hurt?”

He leaned close, his voice suddenly soft.

“Endure it a little. It’ll be over soon.”

I turned my head away, refusing to look at him.

The dark red inside the syringe slowly filled, draining from me until the world began to spin.

By the time they had taken 800cc of blood, I could barely speak. My lips were pale as paper, and my chest burned with tearing pain.

Then, from the bedroom, came a faint cough.

It was Daisy’s voice.

Brian whipped around, his face changing instantly.

“Take twice as much.”

The doctor was drenched in sweat. “Sir, if we take more, she might—”

“I said, take it.”

His voice was sharp and cold as a blade.

I lifted my head slowly, my voice weak but steady. “Do it… but afterward, you’ll let me go.”

The doctor froze. Brian’s expression darkened, a storm flickering in his eyes.

He looked at me, anger and something unspoken twisting inside his gaze.

He opened his mouth as if to say something.

But before he could, that familiar soft voice called from the bedroom.

“Brian… I don’t feel well.”

He turned immediately and left without another word.

I watched him disappear behind the closing door.

The syringe was still in my arm, my blood still flowing out slowly.

I smiled, lips tinged with the pale color of blood.

So, even my own blood didn’t belong to me.

The curtains in the VIP ward were tightly drawn. The air smelled of disinfectant.

When I woke, a needle was still in my arm. The steady drip of the IV mixed with the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

The weakness from the blood loss made even lifting my hand a battle.

For the past few days, Brian had been unusually “gentle.”

He fed me medicine, brought me food, even whispered softly before I fell asleep.

“You scared me, Aurora.”

“If something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”

I turned my face away, avoiding the hand he reached toward me.

That same hand had gripped my wrist not long ago and forced the blood out of my veins.