Seven years of deception finally snapped into brutal clarity: he hadn't chosen me for love. I was nothing more than his emergency blood bank—a backup for Hillary. The truth left me cold.
When the needle touched my skin, I placed a hand over his arm. Irritation flashed in his eyes. "Hillary can't wait. I'll give you anything you want."
I took out a divorce agreement from my bag, and said calmly, "Sign this and I'll give blood."
Without hesitation, he took the paper, flipped to the last page and signed.
"Good. Draw more—fill the bags. That way Hillary can use it whenever she needs it."
The needle pierced me again and again. Every bag filled was another stitch in the net they'd woven around me.
"Why didn't you bother to read it?" I asked softly as the tube warmed in my hand.
He waved me off. "It's only a transfer of assets. If it saves Hillary, I'll give you whatever you want."
His certainty made me laugh coldly. Fine. The faster this farce was done, the sooner I could dismantle it.
By the time dizziness washed over me and my vision blurred, the doctor finally couldn't bear it anymore and said,
"Miss Meredith's life will be in danger if she continues to give blood."