Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
My mother was obsessed with playing the saintly, self-sacrificing mother. To show the world her boundless virtue, she spent years posting updates online about caring for her sick adopted daughter.
"Bella, darling, even if it costs me every penny I own, Mom will cure you."
To keep that promise, she turned me, her biological daughter, into a walking blood bank, bleeding me dry over and over again.
Just as her followers were weeping over her angelic devotion, Bella relapsed and urgently needed another transfusion.
Accompanied by a swarm of reporters and cameras, Victoria Vance kicked open the emergency room doors with absolute fury.
"Chloe is an ungrateful parasite! She lives under my roof and spends my money, but the moment her sister gets sick, she hides like a coward!"
She barged straight into the nurses' station, screaming and sobbing for the cameras.
"Everyone knows how much I've sacrificed for this family, yet that wretched girl refuses to donate her blood!"
"Draw 800 cc from her right now! It won't kill her!"
The head nurse stepped forward, her face stone-cold, and slapped an official cremation certificate right in front of the camera lens.
"You can't draw anything from her anymore. A month ago, you forced her to give blood. It caused fatal complications from massive blood loss. She’s dead."
"Which shady back alley did you buy this fake cremation certificate from?"
Victoria pointed a finger directly at the head nurse's face, spewing venom.
The reporters' cameras and microphones practically shoved themselves into the nurse's face.
The head nurse didn't back down an inch.
She glared coldly at the glamorous, perfectly groomed socialite before her.
"Mrs. Vance, this is an official certificate issued by the municipal crematorium."
"It bears the official seal of the Department of Civil Affairs."
"If you don't believe it, feel free to call and verify the registry number right now."
Victoria's hand, tipped with bright red manicured nails, froze in midair.
A moment later, she let out a sneer dripping with contempt.
"Chloe really outdid herself this time."
"Faking her own death just to get out of giving blood to her sister."
"How much did she pay you to put on this little show with her?"
The reporters instantly smelled a viral sensation, and the shutter clicks grew deafening.
"Mrs. Vance, does your biological daughter often use such extreme methods to shirk her responsibilities?"
"How does it feel to sacrifice everything for your adopted daughter, only to have your flesh and blood be this cold-hearted?"
Facing the lenses, Victoria's eyes welled with tears on cue.
She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a silk handkerchief.
"I'm sorry you all have to see this family embarrassment."
"Chloe was raised out in the countryside, so she grew up a bit bitter and resentful."
"She always thinks I favor Bella, but a mother loves all her children equally."
"Bella has a rare blood disease, and Chloe's blood type is the only match."
"I was only asking for a little bit of blood. It’s not like it would kill her."
"How could she curse herself with such a wicked, vicious lie?"
I hovered near the ceiling of the corridor.
My translucent body drifted right through the harsh white glare of the fluorescent lights.
I watched my mother weep and accuse me of unforgivable sins before the cameras.
A month ago, it was right here.
She had ordered people to pin me down onto the blood donation chair.
A thick needle was shoved straight into my vein.
I sobbed and begged her, telling her that the room was spinning, that my chest hurt so badly I couldn't breathe.
Back then, she had held that very same silk handkerchief over her nose.
She had looked down at my deathly pale face with disgust.
"Stop playing dead. The doctor said 800 cc won't kill you."
"Bella is fighting for her life in the ER waiting for you to save her."
Heavy, steady footsteps echoed from the end of the hall.
The crowd parted automatically.
My fiancé, Julian Hayes, and my older brother, Lucas Vance, walked in side by side.
Julian wore a tailored bespoke suit.
Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze held its usual clinical detachment.
"Has Chloe thrown enough of a tantrum yet?"
His voice was flat and devoid of emotion.
Yet it carried that familiar, arrogant condescension.
Lucas strode forward, snatched the cremation certificate from the head nurse, and ripped it in half without even glancing at it.
"Chloe, I know you're hiding nearby!"
Lucas shouted down the empty hall, his tone icy.
"Did you really think a fake piece of paper would scare us?"
"Because of you, Bella lost too much blood and is in the ICU fighting for her life."
"If you have an ounce of conscience left, get your ass out here right now!"
The head nurse was shaking with rage.
She bent down to pick up the torn scraps of paper.
"You people are utterly deranged!"
"Last month on the twenty-fifth, Chloe was forcibly subjected to a massive blood draw here, which triggered catastrophic complications."
"She collapsed alone in the alley behind the hospital. By the time someone brought her to the ER, she was already in multiple organ failure!"
"Social services had to handle her cremation."
"You so-called family members wouldn't even pick up the damn phone!"
Julian frowned slightly.
He looked down and calmly adjusted his cufflink.
"Spreading slander carries legal consequences, Nurse."
"Chloe has an allowance of a million dollars wired to her account every month."
"There's no way she died alone in a dirty back alley."
He turned to his assistant.
"Pull Chloe's recent bank statements."
"Freeze all of her cards."
"Since she likes playing missing person, let her suffer out on the streets for a while."
"Within three days, she'll crawl back on her knees to beg for forgiveness."
I drifted quietly in the air.
I stared at Julian's self-assured, confident face.
He was always like this.
Convinced that I couldn't survive without him. Convinced that my every cry for help was just a desperate plea for his attention.
What he didn't know was that I had never touched a single cent of that million-dollar allowance.
Because my card had long since been taken by Bella to buy limited-edition designer bags.Hospital security rushed over with a team of guards.
They forcefully escorted Victoria and the reporters out of the emergency wing.
Julian and Lucas didn't leave.
They took the private elevator directly up to the top-floor VIP suite.
I floated lightly behind them, slipping through the door.
The suite was warm and cozy.
The gentle scent of fresh lilies lingered in the air.
Bella was propped up against plush, soft pillows.
Her face was somewhat pale, but her eyes held a gleam of triumph she couldn't entirely hide.
Seeing Julian walk in, she immediately squeezed out a pair of tears.
"Julian... Lucas... Is Chloe still refusing to see me?"
She weakly reached out, clutching the hem of Julian's jacket.
"Did I do something wrong to upset her?"
"If so, I'd rather stop my treatments. I can't bear seeing you fight because of me."
Heartbroken, Lucas sat down on the edge of the bed.
He gently stroked Bella's hair.
"Silly girl, don't talk nonsense."
"Chloe is just selfish to the bone. She can't stand seeing you happy."
"She actually bribed a nurse to fake a cremation certificate just to spite us."
Bella gasped, covering her mouth in shock.
"A cremation certificate? How could she joke about something like that?"
"She must hate me for taking away your love."
"I've been thinking about moving out for a while now anyway, so she can have her place back."
Julian sat down on the armchair nearby.
Crossing his long legs, he picked up an apple from the table and began to peel it.
"It has nothing to do with you. She's just hopelessly immature."
The paring knife glided smoothly over the red skin.
It created a single, unbroken peel that spiraled gracefully downward.
"She thinks pulling an extreme stunt like this will force my hand."
"She clearly underestimates me."
Julian cut the peeled apple into neat bite-sized pieces.
He skewered one with a toothpick and offered it to Bella.
"Have some fruit. The doctor said you need vitamins."
I drifted above the armrest of his chair.
My gaze fixed on that razor-sharp paring knife.
One month ago.
Dragging a body drained of blood, I had crawled all the way from the basement back to my room.
I was shivering so violently that even three heavy blankets couldn't warm me.
Using the last ounce of my strength, I dialed Julian's number.
It rang for an eternity before he finally picked up.
"Julian... please save me... I'm so cold..."
My voice was so faint I could barely hear it myself.
From the other end came Bella's sweet, melodic giggle.
Julian's voice through the speaker was colder than ice.
"Chloe, Bella has a low-grade fever right now."
"Can you stop acting jealous for once?"
"Do you really think faking sick to get my attention is amusing?"
Click.
The line went dead.
Those were the very last words I ever heard in this world.
The door clicked open.
Victoria walked in carrying a thermos.
The rage on her face had vanished, replaced by an affectionate smile.
"Bella, sweetie, Mom brewed some gourmet bird's nest soup for you."
"Drink it while it's hot. It'll restore your energy."
As she ladled the soup, she grumbled under her breath.
"That wretched girl is getting out of control."
"Just wait until she comes home. I'm going to break her legs."
Lucas let out a cold snort.
"Mom, you've always spoiled her too much."
"We can't let her off easy this time."
"We need to make her drop to her knees and apologize to Bella, and then draw a thousand milliliters of blood as punishment."
Julian adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.
"I've already had all her cards frozen."
"I've also notified the major hotels and airlines."
"She has no money, nowhere to go, and no way out."
"Before tonight is over, she'll call me begging for mercy."
He glanced at his luxury watch.
His voice carried the absolute calm of a man who held all the cards.
"We'll wait right here."
"Let's see how long her stubborn pride lasts."
I looked down at my translucent hands.
They would be waiting for that phone call forever.
Because dead people don't make calls.Minutes ticked by.
The wall clock clicked steadily.
Outside, the sky slowly bruised into night.
Julian's phone sat entirely silent on the coffee table.
The composure on his face began to fracture into an almost imperceptible restlessness.
He picked up his coffee and took a sip, his brow furrowing deeper.
The coffee was stone-cold.
Usually by this hour, I would have already replaced it with a warm latte.
He remembered that I hated the bitterness of coffee.
Yet he had grown used to the perfect warmth I delivered to his hands every single day.
Lucas paced back and forth across the suite.
"It's eight o'clock already, and Chloe hasn't made a single peep."
"Did she really run off to hide in some godforsaken ditch?"
Victoria, who was massaging Bella's calves by the bed, scoffed.
"A girl who's tasted luxury like this? Suffer in some slum?"
"She's probably shacking up with some scumbag."
"You can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can't take the trash out of the girl."
Bella tugged timidly at Victoria's sleeve.
"Mom, please don't say that about Chloe."
"What if... what if something really happened to her?"
"That nurse sounded so certain. It's making me anxious."
Julian slammed his coffee cup onto the glass table.
It landed with a sharp, heavy thud.
The room went instantly dead silent.
"An accident? What could possibly happen to her?"
Julian's voice remained steady, but his cadence had quickened.
"She's just exploiting the fact that we urgently need blood to play mind games with us."
"If she wants to play, I'll play until she breaks."
He pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant.
"Contact our media partners."
"Leak the story that Chloe forged a death certificate, abandoned her sick sister, and refused to support her family."
"Buy top trending spots. Stoke the fire."
"I want the whole city to see her for the monster she is."
On the other end, his assistant hesitated.
"Mr. Hayes... isn't that taking it too far?"
"Miss Chloe is your fiancée, after all. If the public backlash spirals—"
"Do as I said."
Julian cut him off without a shred of mercy.
"She started this war, and I'm going to finish it."
"Only when she's pushed to the absolute edge will she realize who her only protector is."
Hovering above, I watched Julian issue the hit piece with ruthless efficiency.
My heart was shockingly peaceful.
No anger. No sorrow.
Just an overwhelming sense of hollow boredom.
He was always like this—using that brilliant, rational mind to calculate the most precise ways to crush my dignity.
He believed that if he cut off every escape route, I would come crawling back to his feet.
He had no idea that I had already reached the true dead end long ago.
Within half an hour, the internet erupted.
The video of Victoria causing a scene in the ER had been edited and posted online.
It was slapped with a sensational headline:
[Billionaire Heiress Forges Own Cremation Certificate to Spite Family and Starve Sick Sister of Blood!]
The comments were a unified wall of vile abuse.
—"What an evil bitch. She won't even save her own sister?"
—"Mrs. Vance is a saint. How did she birth such an ungrateful parasite?"
—"Dox her! Drag her out by the hair and strap her down to a donor chair!"
Lucas scrolled through the comments, a satisfied smirk curling his lips.
"Let's see where she hides now."
"When the entire internet is tearing her apart and she can't even step outside, she'll finally regret it."
Just then, Julian's phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID, his gaze sharpening instantly.
It was his assistant.
He tapped answer, his tone dripping with condescending mockery.
"What? Did she finally use a card?"
His assistant's panicked voice came through the speaker.
"Mr. Hayes, we got a hit!"
"Miss Chloe's card had a charge go through ten minutes ago near a scrap yard in the industrial slums!"
Julian shot to his feet.
The glare on his gold-rimmed glasses flashed brightly under the chandelier.
"Get the car."The black Rolls-Royce crawled through the narrow, filthy alleyways of the industrial slums.
Tires rolled through stagnant puddles, splattering murky sludge across the curb.
Sitting in the back, Victoria held a scented handkerchief over her nose in pure disgust.
"What a repulsive dump. I can't believe Chloe could stomach staying in a sewer like this."
"The minute we drag her back, she's taking a bath in disinfectant."
Lucas stared out at the decrepit shacks, his eyes full of scorn.
"Lowborn trash will always gravitate toward the gutter."
Julian sat silently in the passenger seat.
His long fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against his knee.
A quiet tell that he was far from as calm as he pretended to be.
He had assumed I would hide in some cheap motel.
Or perhaps crash at an old acquaintance's apartment.
He never anticipated a transaction would pop up in a squalor-ridden wasteland barely registered on GPS.
It gave him a sickening sensation that things were slipping from his iron grip.
The car finally ground to a halt outside a dilapidated pharmacy.
Julian shoved the door open and stepped out.
His Italian leather shoes hit the oil-slicked concrete with a dull thud.
Adjacent to the pharmacy stood a makeshift shack pieced together from rusted corrugated iron.
The door was ajar, spilling a faint, sickly yellow light into the muck.
His assistant pointed toward it, speaking in a low murmur.
"Mr. Hayes, the GPS tracker shows the card was swiped right here."
Julian drew a long, measured breath.
He straightened his suit jacket, pulling his mask of aloof arrogance firmly back into place.
He expected to kick that door open and find me trembling, filthy, and broken.
He had already prepared his opening line:
"Game over, Chloe."
He raised his foot and slammed it into the rickety iron door.
BANG!
The metal sheet smashed hard against the rotting frame.
The interior of the shack was laid bare for all to see.
Julian said coldly, "Chloe, you—"
The words choked in his throat.
I wasn't in the room.
There was no trembling fiancée waiting for his mercy.
The cramped space was crammed ceiling-high with flattened cardboard and crushed plastic bottles.
The air reeked of suffocating mildew.
An elderly, hunched scavenger in tattered rags was crouched on the dirt floor.
Clutching a garment under the dim bulb, he was desperately trying to dig something out of its pocket.
Startled by the crash, the old man jumped out of his skin.
Whatever he was holding slipped and clattered onto the floor.
It was a sleek black credit card.
The black card Julian had given me—the very symbol of his ownership and favor.
And that garment...
Was a white button-down shirt.
Only now, it was soaked in massive, spreading stains of dark, crusted crimson.
The fabric was stiff and brittle from dried blood.
Under the pale light, it looked like a shroud.
Julian's eyes locked onto that shirt.
He recognized it instantly.
A month ago, when I was dragged away to be bled dry, I was wearing that exact shirt.
Pinned to the collar was a delicate white bellflower brooch he had personally given me.
Now, that white flower was dyed a sickening, blackened brown.
Faced with this gang of pristine, wealthy strangers, the old man cowered into the corner, trembling.
"I... I found that card! I didn't steal it! I swear I didn't steal anything!"
Lucas scowled, kicking aside an empty plastic jug as he stepped inside.
"Where is Chloe? Did she hand you that card to pull this pathetic prank?"
The old man waved his hands frantically, his voice cracking with tears.
"I don't know any Chloe!"
"I found that shirt and the card a few days ago in a biohazard waste bin behind the city hospital!"
"I saw the fabric was nice, so I wanted to wash it and wear it..."
"Then that card fell right out of the pocket!"
Julian's pupils shrank to microscopic points.
All the air was violently sucked from his lungs.
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
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