The Walking Blood Bank Has Left the Chat

"Sophia, finally! I've been waiting forever!"

The second I stepped in, Vincent was on me, pressing hot kisses all over my face.

"What's got you so hyped?" I asked, pretending I didn't know.

"Our baby, of course! Do you know how happy I am? Best day of my life. We're having a child—a child with your blood. I hope they take after you." He was practically wagging his tail like an overexcited golden retriever.

"So why'd you call me to your office?"

"To give you a reward!" He pulled me toward his desk. "Look, I already told the lawyers to transfer some properties to you. This is where you and the baby will live."

I scanned the documents, my stomach tightening with every word.

Vincent had gifted Emma oceanfront villas and luxury apartments downtown. And me? A basic house in the countryside. Not awful by normal standards, but compared to what Emma had? A slap in the face.

I latched onto the flaw in his words. "I'll be living there with the baby? Aren't we all supposed to live together as a family of three?"

Vincent froze for a second before scrambling for an excuse. "Of course! I just thought you'd feel safer having your own place."

"Oh? How thoughtful."

"There's one more gift—close your eyes."

I played along. When I opened them, a purple velvet box sat before me. Inside—ruby earrings, intricately crafted, worth a fortune.

"You're carrying our child. This is my gift to you. Let me put them on."

Just as the earrings brushed my skin, I turned my head away and dropped the bomb. "I'm not actually pregnant. I threw up last night because of gastroenteritis."

The earrings slipped from Vincent's fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp clink.

"What?"

"Here's my test result. See for yourself."

He snatched the paper, his eyes locking onto the words "Not Pregnant". He stumbled back two steps.

Then came the explosion. "Why did you lie to me? Do you have any idea how much I was looking forward to this? How could you joke about something like this?"

I let out a short, bitter laugh. "I never said I was pregnant. You just assumed. What's wrong? Still giving me the house and earrings?"

As if snapping out of a daze, Vincent turned and shoved the property agreement into the shredder. His voice was ice. "The earrings are yours. The house—you'll get one when you're actually pregnant."

He didn't even look at me.

Fine by me. I took my chance and slipped the recording pen under the couch.

He wasn't going to play me for a fool anymore.

"Kevin, take Sophia home."

I followed Kevin, his secretary, toward the exit, but as we passed the room next to Vincent's office, I suddenly twisted the doorknob and stepped inside.

Kevin jolted, rushing to stop me, but it was too late.

The room was pure luxury—not just expensive, but personal. Warm, carefully designed, like someone had poured their heart into every detail. A princess's sanctuary.

And at the center of it all, sitting in stunned silence, was Emma. My husband's real love.

Her eyes widened. "Who are you?"

"Sophia. Vincent Arnault's WIFE."

Vincent appeared. The second he saw us face to face, he stepped between us, shielding her. His tone was sharp. "Why are you barging into someone else's room? Do you have no manners?"

"You're the CEO, and I'm your wife. Am I not allowed to look around and learn more about your company? More importantly, why is she living right next to your office? What exactly is your relationship?"

Vincent hesitated, then exhaled. "She's Emma Ortega, daughter of the Ortega Group's CEO—our business partner.

"She's sick and needs a quiet place to recover. She likes the view, so she stays here.

"This is business, Sophia. Do I have to report every little thing to you? Are you my boss?" He scoffed. "No—you're just a housewife."

The words hit harder than they should've. My ears rang, my pulse hammering in my throat. It took me a second to find my voice. "I stepped into a room. Was that really worth all this anger?"

"Who told you to fake a pregnancy?"

"She's not pregnant?" Emma gasped, eyes flicking to my stomach before sighing in disappointment.

That's when I saw it—the ruby necklace around her neck. The design, the craftsmanship... nearly identical to the earrings Vincent had just given me.

Emma didn't have pierced ears.

So my gift? Just leftovers she couldn't use.

"And why do you care about my pregnancy?" I asked.

Emma might've looked fragile, but her words cut sharp. "Vincent is my friend. Of course, I care if he has a child.

"I heard your family background is... modest. You should hurry up and have a baby—then you'll never have to worry about money again."

"Sorry, but whether I get pregnant or not has nothing to do with you. You should focus on your own health—wouldn't want to drop dead unexpectedly."

"Enough, Sophia!" Vincent snapped. "You can't talk to Emma like that! She's just telling the truth. Apologize."

I stayed silent.

Vincent exhaled, then turned to Emma, his tone softer. "She has no manners—people from her background tend to be crass.

"I was going to give her a house today, but since the pregnancy was fake, I took it back. That's why she's acting out.

"You know how poor people are—money is everything to them."

Emma smiled. "It's fine. I won't lower my standards by arguing with a Cinderella."

I'd seen enough. No point staying.

I turned and walked away.

Behind me, Vincent's voice rang out, still scolding. "Why are you so upset? She wasn't wrong."

It didn't matter anymore.

My immigration application had been approved.

I was leaving him.