Wedding Night: Seeing Through My Husband’s Plot

“No need. I’m serious about getting a divorce. It’s better to complete the procedures in a couple of days,” I said.

The thought of me and Harvey being husband and wife made me feel uncomfortable.

Harvey got worked up. “When will you stop making a fuss over it? You’ve donated blood to Claire before. You should have been used to it.”

“What should I get used to? Seeing those needle marks? Or feeling like dying after the excessive blood loss? Or facing your insulting remarks after my mom’s passing?”

As I spoke, I couldn’t help trembling with anger.

“Harvey, I don't owe you. It’s true you paid my stepfather’s debts. But I donate blood to Claire 366 times. We’re even now!”

Harvey was taken aback by my outburst. I had never got so agitated before.

Our first encounter was in a casino. My stepfather had planned to sell me to an old man to pay off his debts.

The old man, fat and was a big belly, was in his seventies. Rumor had it that he was prone to tormenting women in bed.

Back then, I was bent on committing a suicide. As long as my stepfather signed the con-tract, I would take out the blade hidden under my sleeve and kill myself.

Before I could take action, Harvey paid my stepfather’s debts.

I fell in love with him that day.

That was part of Harvey’s plan to get me to donate blood to Claire.

But the countless blood transfusions I had given her in the past three years that was worse than a ghost for three years has long been paid off.

I didn’t owe him anything.

Harvey felt a pang a sympathy but he dismissed it immediately. He threatened, “As long as your mother is still alive, you’ll always be in my debt.”

I laughed angrily. How dared he mention my mom!

I was about to speak, but Claire chimed in, her tone soft. "Michelle, why are you being so dramatic? Even time you give me a transfusion, Harv will have the chef prepared nu-tritious meals for you. It won’t harm your body. Besides, we’re aware of your mother’s condition. She is faking being sick…”

Before she could finish speaking, I slapped her across the face.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I snapped.

My anger knew no bounds as I pushed her to the ground.

Harvey, who sympathized with me, instantly shouted at me, “What has gotten into you, Michelle?”

“Harv, she has gone too far. I struck a nerve, so she got flustered and hit me,” Claire cut in, appearing aggrieved.

Ignoring Harvey, I walked up to Claire who was back to her feet and hiding behind him.

Without a word, I hit her head hard with my mother's urn.

Harvey’s bodyguard immediately intervened, keeping me from harming Claire.

“Apologize to Claire!” Harvey snapped, glaring at me.

I met his gaze. “Do you also think it’s not a deal as long as I die from blood transfusions? Do you think my mother was pretending to be sick?”

He avoided meeting my eyes, and a hint of unease flashed across his face.

Although he remained silent, I knew his answer was positive.

My heart was torn into a million pieces. Desperation overwhelmed me.

“Come on."

Harvey's voice was hoarse, and he reached out his arms to hold me, but I dodged it.

g Claire suddenly covered her head and screamed, "Blood! I’m bleeding!”

The sadness in Harvey's eyes was replaced by fear.

“Harv, it hurts so much. I’m bleeding. I can’t stop the bleeding,” Claire continued.

She had hemophilia. Once she bled, it was hard to stop the bleeding. Blood trickled down her head.

"Call the ambulance!” Harvey instructed his bodyguard.

Claire grabbed his hand and said, “Harv, I need a blood transfusion, but Michelle won’t donate blood to me. What will become of me? I’m going to die?”

He raised his eyebrows, torn. Yet, he quickly made a decision.

"Michelle..."

I gestured for him to shut up as I picked up a stone covered in blood.

Having been aware of Claire's condition, I had held back when I hit her.

Apparently, she had secretly hit herself with the stone to cause the bleeding.

I stared at her. “Now that you have a death wish, then I will grand it.”

I held the urn and planned to leave, but Harvey held my hand.

"Give Claire a blood transfusion,” he said.

I shook off his hand and gave him a slap.

i'Harvey's face darkened and his voice turned cold. "Michelle, I won’t repeat it again.

Give her a transfusion."

I silently swung my arm wide and slapped him again. “Dream on.”

I was not a tool for prolonging someone's life.

"Michelle, my patience has its limits."

With a gesture from Harvey, several bodyguards intervened to subdue me. Given that I was holding the urn and resisting, they hesitated.

Seeing this, Harvey coldly instructed, “Just go get her. Forget that urn.”

When they subdued me, I resisted, and the urn broke, ashes all over the ground.

My mind went blank.

“Mom! Mom!” I called out hysterically after I came back to my senses.

With a derisive sneer, Harvey stepped on the ashes.

“You’re quite the actress. It’s a shame that you didn’t get into show business!” he mocked.

Turning to his bodyguards, he said, “Take her away!”

One of the bodyguards skillfully knocked me unconscious and settled me into the car.

Harvey sat in the back seat, looking at the unconscious Claire and me. Claire had fainted from excessive blood loss.

He took out his phone inexplicably and dialed his assistant's number.

“Tell the hospital to cure Michelle’s mother,” he told the assistant.

The assistant on the other end hesitated and replied, ”Mr. Dowding, Mrs. Dowding's mother deteriorated and passed away on your wedding night. I just watched the video sent by the bodyguard. The urn was Mrs. Dowding's mother's."