From Blood Bag To Billionaire Queen
For three years, I was the perfect, invisible wife to Bart Brown. On our third anniversary, I stood in the kitchen for four hours, preparing his favorite meal with imported truffles, only to receive a cold text command.
"Crysta fainted again. Get to the hospital. Now."
My rare Rh-negative blood was the only thing the Brown family valued. Bart didn't want a wife; he wanted a walking blood bank for his "sick" best friend, Crysta. While I was fainting from chronic anemia, Crysta was smirking in her hospital bed, clutching Bart's hand and mocking my "peasant" lifestyle.
Even his mother treated me like a servant, demanding I vacuum the floors after I'd already offered my veins for the hundredth time. When I finally reached my breaking point and signed the divorce papers, they didn't let me go quietly. They filed a false police report, accusing me of stealing a multi-million dollar diamond necklace just to watch me crawl.
I didn't understand how a family could be so heartless. I had cooked their meals, cleaned their house, and literally bled for them, yet they were determined to ruin my life the moment I stopped being useful. Did they really think I was a nobody with nowhere to go?
Standing outside the hospital with a bruised wrist and nothing to my name, I didn't cry. I simply took off my cheap wedding ring and dialed a secure line I hadn't touched since the day I married him.
"It's me, Dad," I whispered as a fleet of black Maybachs rounded the corner. "The extraction is a go. I'm coming home."
Chapters
Share
Chapter 4
"Apologize," Bart snarled. He moved his body between Aleigha and Crysta, shielding the crying woman. "Right now. Get on your knees and apologize."
Aleigha smoothed a wrinkle on her sleeve. She looked bored.
"Apologize for what? Killing a mosquito?"
"She pushed me!" Crysta wailed from behind Bart's back. "She said she wanted you to suffer!"
Bart pointed at the door, his finger shaking with rage. "Get out. If you don't give the blood today, don't expect a single penny of settlement money. I will bury you in legal fees."
Aleigha laughed. It was a soft, genuine sound of amusement that unnerved him more than her anger.
"Bart," she said, shaking her head. "You really think this is about money? Still?"
She took a step forward. Bart tensed, bracing for an attack.
But Aleigha didn't aim for him. She reached past him, her movement blurringly fast, and grabbed Crysta's left wrist.
"No!" Crysta shrieked, trying to yank back.
Aleigha held on. She shoved the sleeve of Crysta's hospital gown up to the elbow.
"Look," Aleigha commanded.
There, on the pale forearm, was a bandage. It was the size of a postage stamp. Next to it, on the bedside table, sat a small fruit paring knife.
Aleigha ripped the bandage off.
Underneath was a scratch. A tiny, thin red line that had already clotted. It looked like a paper cut.
"This?" Aleigha pointed at the scratch. "This is 'life-threatening internal bleeding'? This is why I needed to rush here?"
Bart stared at the arm. He blinked. His brain tried to reconcile the image with the emergency texts he had received.
"She... she felt faint," Bart stammered, the conviction draining from his voice.
"Look at her face, Bart," Aleigha said ruthlessly. "She has more color in her cheeks than I do. She's blushing."
Crysta yanked her arm back, covering the scratch. "It's internal! You don't understand medicine!"
"I understand enough," Aleigha cut her off. She turned her gaze fully on Bart.
"For three years," Aleigha said, her voice trembling slightly now, not from fear, but from the sheer weight of the truth. "I wasn't your wife. I was a bio-container. You kept me fed, you kept me housed, just so I would be fresh when your real love needed a top-up."
Bart opened his mouth. He wanted to say that wasn't true. He wanted to say he cared. But the words died in his throat because, looking at the scratch on Crysta's arm, he knew she was right.
"I have Rh-negative blood," Aleigha continued. "Rare. Just like her. That was the only line on my resume you cared about."
Bart looked away. He couldn't meet her eyes. The shame was a hot, prickly sensation crawling up his neck.
"Well," Aleigha said. "The container is broken."
She reached into her tote bag. She pulled out a thick stack of folded papers.
She threw them into the air.
The papers separated, fluttering down like giant snowflakes. They drifted over the bed, landing on Bart's shoulders, on Crysta's lap, on the floor.
"Read them," Aleigha said.
Bart picked one up off the floor. It was a donation receipt from the Red Cross, dated two years ago. 450ml. Donor fainted post-procedure.
He picked up another. Emergency direct transfusion. 500ml.
There were dozens of them. A paper trail of her life force, drained away to keep his fantasy alive.
"Every drop is recorded," Aleigha said. "One day, I'll make you pay for it all. With interest."
She turned and walked toward the door. Her back was straight, her head high.
Bart stood amidst the sea of papers. He looked at the dates. He saw his wedding anniversary. He saw her birthday. He saw Christmas Eve.
A cold knot of dread formed in his stomach.
"Aleigha!" he called out. It was a reflex.
She didn't stop. She didn't look back. She walked out of the room and disappeared into the hallway.
Crysta tugged on Bart's jacket. "Bart, baby, I feel dizzy again... don't look at those papers..."
Bart didn't answer. He stared at the empty doorway. For the first time in three years, the room felt empty without her.
You may also like
7.8
I was three million dollars in debt, forced by my agent to star in a reality show as the brainless gold-digger who married a decrepit billionaire.
But right before the live broadcast, as I touched the tacky neon dress I was supposed to wear, a violent vision struck my brain.
I realized my entire life was a script, and I was just a villainous side character designed to make America's Sweetheart look like a saint.
My agent was secretly taking payouts from her PR firm to deliberately ruin my reputation with endless hate traffic.
If I followed his orders today, I would be torn apart by the internet, lose every contract, and eventually die alone in a cheap motel.
I couldn't accept that my every fake smile and stupid decision had been manipulated to destroy me just to elevate someone else.
Why should I let them sell me out and turn my life into a complete joke?
Looking at the ugly pink dress, I threw it straight into the trash.
"You are fired, and my lawyers will be in touch about your offshore accounts."
I poured a glass of freezing water over my head to wash away the heavy makeup and the helpless persona I had worn for years.
I kicked out my backstabbing agent, put on a pair of plain black leggings, and walked out to face the live cameras.
To hell with the script. Today, I was going to expose this fake PR marriage myself.
9.6
Brenda Vincent thought her biggest nightmare was catching her boyfriend cheating with her roommate on her own sofa.
But her life truly derailed after a drunken night led her into the bed of Bryon Reeves, the ruthless billionaire CEO and older brother of the student she tutored.
Trying to pay off the most dangerous man in New York with a crumpled twenty-dollar bill was her first mistake.
Fleeing the hotel, she accidentally rear-ended his custom Maybach. Bryon used the massive repair bill to blackmail her into being his fake date, parading her at a gala just to make his sister-in-law jealous.
When Brenda finally snapped and fled the humiliation, only to be rescued by his biggest corporate rival, Bryon's twisted possessiveness turned completely destructive.
"If you feel kidnapped, call the police. But your teaching license will be permanently revoked."
He didn't just threaten her. He systematically dismantled her life, using his influence to force the university to freeze her tenure and suspend her without pay.
Brenda couldn't understand why this terrifying man was going to such extreme lengths to ruin a simple tutor who just wanted to be left alone.
Now, stripped of her career, her income, and her independence, she was forced into the sprawling Reeves Manor.
Hearing the heavy mahogany door lock from the outside in her signal-jammed bedroom, Brenda's panic slowly morphed into a cold, clinical rage.
She was trapped, but she refused to be his helpless pawn.
7.2
For three years, I was imprisoned by Anderson Hopper, the monster who forced me to watch my fiancé, Kendall, plummet into a freezing river.
But when I saw the morning news, I realized Kendall wasn't dead. He had returned as Eben Gill, a ruthless tech billionaire.
I risked my life to escape and find him, only to be met with eyes full of absolute hatred.
He publicly humiliated me, dragged me to the exact bridge where he "died," and sneered at the C-section scar on my stomach.
"Anderson Hopper's bastard," he spat, completely unaware that the baby was actually his—the very child Anderson had murdered in the operating room to break me.
To make matters worse, Anderson used Kendall's dying mother as a hostage to force me back into my cage.
I knelt on the freezing asphalt, begging the man I loved to just visit his mother, while he coldly ordered his driver to run me over.
I had lost my baby, my freedom, and my dignity, all to protect him from Anderson's blackmail. Why was I the one being tortured and treated like a traitor?
"Don't think your little kneeling stunt earned you my forgiveness."
He whispered those cruel words before walking away without looking back.
Staring at his cold, retreating figure, the last shred of my love finally turned to ash.
That night, under the cover of a torrential storm, I bypassed the estate's laser grids and walked out into the dark.
9.0
Nadia escaped her cold marriage to billionaire Julian Ashford, but when his grandmother's will leaves everything to his firstborn child, he discovers she's seven months pregnant.
Suddenly, the husband who ignored her for six years wants her back, but Nadia has changed, and she's no longer the woman who waited for his attention.
As secrets unravel and empires collapse, she must decide if some love stories deserve a second chance, or if they need to be destroyed first.
7.1
Eleanor Heather enjoys her ordinary life, working as an accountant, repaying student loans, and living in an apartment with her best friend, Lana. However, one night, a strange man attacked and bit her, leaving her traumatized and afraid to go out alone. Little did she know, this incident was just the beginning of a life-altering journey. When she crossed paths with Nicholas Shaw, a lawyer and owner of the firm she audited, her life took a drastic turn. Despite dark secrets surrounding Nicholas, Eleanor couldn't help but be drawn to him, and Nicholas Shaw was determined not to let her go.
9.5
Gina was locked in Blackwood Asylum for five years, framed as a violent lunatic by her own wealthy family.
Her brother suddenly dragged her out, but not to save her. He forced her into an arranged marriage with Kerr Brooks, the billionaire emperor of New York, just to save the Rollins family's failing company.
Back at the estate, her parents treated her like a biohazard. They showered her adopted sister, Hailie, with love and luxury, while forcing Gina into a freezing servant's room. They threw a brutal prenuptial agreement at her face and threatened to leak a deepfake scandal video to the press if she didn't play the perfect bride. To ensure Gina's absolute ruin, Hailie even ordered a maid to spike her dinner with a massive dose of LSD. They were ruthlessly sacrificing her to a man who was secretly in a deep, unresponsive coma.
"She is just a tool, Hailie. Do not waste your pity on a broken thing."
Her mother's cold words echoed in the foyer. They looked at Gina's faded jumpsuit and vacant eyes, fully believing she was a heavily sedated pawn they could easily manipulate and discard.
But they didn't know Gina was a master hacker, a lethal underground surgeon, and the secret owner of the world's top luxury brand. She neutralized the poison in seconds and slipped into her comatose fiancé's heavily guarded ICU. Disabling the secret neuro-suppressants keeping him asleep, Gina smiled in the dark. If they wanted her to marry a corpse, she would use his empire to bury them all alive.