The Divorced Architect's Spectacular Comeback

Conrad burst into Else's hospital room, his chest heaving, his heart pounding like a drum.

The scene before him was not the bloodbath he had imagined. Else was sitting up in bed, looking perfectly fine. Her wrist was wrapped in a thin layer of white gauze.

A nurse was clearing a tray of medical supplies. Conrad grabbed her by the shoulders. "How bad is it?" he demanded.

The nurse jumped, stammering, "It's just a superficial scratch. It didn't even need stitches. A band-aid would have been enough."

Conrad's mind cleared instantly. The fog of panic lifted, replaced by a burning, all-consuming rage. He slowly turned his head to stare at Cristin.

Cristin avoided his gaze, her voice defensive. "The wound might be shallow, but her heart is broken! She really wanted to die!"

"Get out," Conrad said, the word clipped and cold. He turned to leave.

Else saw her plan failing. She scrambled out of bed, throwing her arms around Conrad's waist from behind.

"Don't go!" she cried, burying her face in his back. "I'm scared, Conrad! I'm scared you'll hate me!"

Conrad pried her fingers off, one by one. He shoved her away, letting her fall to the floor like a piece of trash.

He was almost at the door when the head nurse, Jenna, came running down the hall. She nearly collided with him.

"Mr. Anderson!" she gasped, out of breath. "Your wife is hemorrhaging! She needs Rh-negative O blood immediately! The blood bank is empty!"

Conrad went rigid. He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. "I'll send a helicopter. I'll get it from another state."

Jenna shook her head, her eyes desperate. "There's no time! She's bleeding out too fast. She has maybe fifteen minutes. She won't survive until the chopper gets back."

Fifteen minutes. The number hit Conrad like a death sentence. He stood frozen, a wave of absolute despair washing over him.

On the floor, Else had been listening. A slow, sinister smile crept across her face. She stood up, brushing off her hospital gown.

"I'm Rh-negative O," she said casually, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Conrad whipped around. He strode over to her, grabbing her shoulders. "Then come with me. Now."

"Not so fast," she said, her eyes locked on his. "If you want my blood, you sign the divorce papers. Right now."

Conrad stared at her, the woman he had thought was an angel, the woman he had protected for years. It was like seeing her for the first time. His gaze dropped to her smirk, then back up to her calculating eyes. He looked into her eyes, seeing not the gentle woman he thought he knew, but a greedy, venomous stranger. A cold dread, separate from his agonizing fear for Crista, began to coil in his gut. The illusion of Else as a pure, innocent savior shattered completely in that split second. The realization that he had been manipulated, that he had sacrificed his wife for a monster, hit him like a freight train. Rage boiled over, hot and blinding. He lunged, his large hand shooting out and wrapping around her throat, slamming her against the wall. "Are you out of your mind?" he snarled.

Else choked, her face turning red, but she didn't look scared. She smirked, a cruel, mocking sound. "Go ahead. Kill me. But if I die, she dies too."

Cristin shrieked, throwing herself at Conrad, hitting his arm, trying to free her daughter. The room was a chaotic mess of screaming and struggling.

Nurse Jenna stamped her foot, tears of frustration in her eyes. "Mr. Anderson! We don't have time! Her BP is crashing!"

Conrad's hand trembled against Else's neck. He looked into her eyes, seeing nothing but greed and malice. He knew he was beaten.

He let go, taking a step back. He closed his eyes, the defeat and pain etched into every line of his face.

"Fine," he said, his voice a broken whisper. "I'll sign."

Else let out a triumphant laugh. She rushed to the drawer, pulling out the divorce papers she had kept waiting. She shoved them, along with a pen, into Conrad's hands.

Conrad took the pen. The tip touched the paper. With a violent slash, he signed his name, the pen tearing through the sheet. He had just signed away his marriage, and possibly his soul, to save his wife's life.