The Blood Bag's Billion-Dollar Revenge

The room was heavy with the scent of pepperoni and antiseptic. Julian turned his back on Seraphina, his hands hovering over Caroline as if she were made of spun glass.

"Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" he murmured, his voice dripping with concern.

Caroline sobbed into his shirt, burying her face so he couldn't see the lack of tears. "I was just resting... and she burst in... she said she wanted me dead so she could have your money..."

Julian stiffened. He turned his head slowly to look at Seraphina. His eyes were cold, dead things.

"Apologize," he commanded.

Seraphina leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest to stop them from shaking. The pain in her hip was a dull throb now, grounding her.

"No," she said.

"I said apologize!" Julian's voice cracked like a whip. "You assault a defenseless patient in her hospital bed? You're lucky I don't call the police right now."

"Call them," Seraphina challenged. "I'd love for them to take a statement. Maybe they can analyze the 'blood' on the sheets while they're at it."

She pointed a trembling finger at the red stain. "Look at it, Julian. Really look at it."

Julian glanced down. He frowned. The stain was vivid, thick, and oddly glossy. It didn't oxidize into that rusty brown color real blood turned after exposure to air.

"It's... it's just from my medicine," Caroline wailed, pulling the sheet up to cover it. "My topical hematoma treatment! Dr. Smith prescribed it for the bruising! She knocked it over!"

"Topical treatment in a squeeze bottle?" Seraphina scoffed. "And the pizza? Is that a topical treatment too?"

Julian looked at the box protruding from under the pillow. A glimmer of confusion crossed his face.

"She... she needs calories," he stammered, defending the lie out of habit.

Seraphina shook her head. "You are pathetic. You're so desperate to be the hero that you've let her turn you into a fool."

She thought about playing the recording. She had it right there in her pocket. But looking at Julian's face-the willful ignorance, the desperate need to believe Caroline's lie-she realized it wouldn't matter. He would find a way to explain it away. He would say it was taken out of context, or that Caroline was delirious.

Instead, she pulled out her phone.

"Is this AI too?" Seraphina swiped on her screen and shoved the phone in Julian's face. It was the photo Caroline had sent earlier. The one of Julian feeding her apples.

"Check the timestamp, Julian. She sent this to me ten minutes before I arrived. While you were down the hall getting coffee, I assume?"

Julian patted his pocket. His phone was missing. He looked at the bedside table. It was sitting right next to the pizza crusts.

He picked it up. Unlocked it. Went to sent messages.

There it was.

He looked at Caroline. For the first time, the filter dropped. He didn't see the fragile waif. He saw the grease on her chin. He saw the frantic, guilty darting of her eyes. He saw the healthy flush of her skin.

"You..." Julian whispered. "You sent this?"

"I... I found your phone on the floor!" Caroline cried, reaching for his hand. "I was just checking to see if it was broken! I didn't send anything! Maybe she hacked it! You know she's good with computers!"

It was a weak lie. A desperate one. But Julian paused. He looked at Seraphina, then back at Caroline, who was now clutching her chest.

"Julian, please, my heart... it's hurting..." She swooned dramatically. "I think I'm having an episode!"

"An episode," Seraphina repeated flatly.

She pushed off the wall and walked toward the bed. Julian stepped aside this time. He didn't block her. He was too busy processing the collapse of his reality.

Seraphina grabbed Caroline's left arm-the one wrapped in a thick ace bandage, the one she claimed had a ruptured vein.

"Let's see the damage," Seraphina said.

"No! Don't touch it! It's infected!" Caroline shrieked, kicking her legs.

Seraphina ignored her. She found the edge of the clip and ripped the bandage off in one violent motion.

The fabric unraveled, falling to the floor in a heap.

Underneath, Caroline's forearm was smooth, pale, and utterly unblemished. Except for one tiny, thin red scratch near her wrist. A paper cut.

Seraphina pointed at it. "There. That's the hemorrhage. That's why you needed a pint of my O-negative blood."

Julian stared at the arm. He stared at the scratch. He remembered the frantic phone call from Caroline an hour ago, screaming that she was bleeding out. He remembered the terror that had gripped his heart.

He looked at Seraphina. She was standing there, pale and exhausted, her own arms covered in the faint, silvery tracks of real needles. Needles he had ordered.

A wave of nausea hit him so hard he had to grab the bed rail.

"Julian," Caroline whispered, trying to pull her sleeve down. "It healed fast because... because of your love..."

"Shut up," Julian said. It was a whisper, but it carried the weight of a tombstone. "Just shut up."

Seraphina stepped back. She felt lighter. The burden of the lie was gone.

"I'm done," she said. She looked at Julian one last time. There was no hate in her eyes anymore. Just pity. "The lawyer will send the rest of the paperwork. Don't contact me."

She turned and walked out of the room.

She didn't run. She walked down the hallway, past the nurses station, past the security guard. She walked out the front doors of the clinic and into the blinding afternoon sun.

The adrenaline crashed. Her knees buckled. She stumbled, catching herself on a concrete bollard.

She fumbled for her phone. Her fingers were numb. She dialed the one number she had been forbidden to call for three years. The number that meant admitting defeat.

It rang once.

"Seraphina?"

The voice was deep, commanding, and laced with immediate panic.

Seraphina let out a breath she felt like she'd been holding since her wedding day. A tear finally escaped, tracking hot down her cold cheek.

"I need help," she choked out. "Please. Come get me."