He Used My Blood to Save His First Love

Please, just divorce me, okay?

?I pushed the divorce agreement toward him, my fingertips trembling.

But Evan didn't even glance at them. Right in front of me, he tore the papers in half, the shredded pieces hitting my face.

Sophia, you owe Clara a life. Don't even think about getting away from it for the rest of your life.

He turned and pulled Clara into his arms. His voice was unbearably tender.

"Clara's body is fragile. Go clear out the master bedroom for her."

I stood there, didn't cry, didn't argue.

Three months ago, I was diagnosed with stage two stomach cancer.

Yesterday, I found out I was four weeks pregnant.

Today, to give Clara a blood transfusion, he drew 400cc of blood from me.

The baby was gone. The moment they strapped me to that donation chair, it was already gone.

"Fine, I'll clear it out."

I bent down, picked up the paper scraps from the floor, and pieced them together one by one.

Evan, this time, I truly don't want you anymore.

Sophia's POV

"Sophia, your biopsy results are in. Stage two stomach cancer. If we intervene immediately, there's an excellent chance of recovery, but you absolutely cannot overwork yourself anymore."

I took the thin diagnostic report, my fingertips trembling slightly, my face turning even paler than the paper.

"Thank you, Dr. Smith." I folded the report carefully and tucked it into my bag, then pulled out a divorce agreement I'd drafted long ago.

Today was the third anniversary of my secret marriage to Evan, and the tenth year I'd harbored feelings for this man.

Ten years. I'd gone from a girl who silently followed him around to New York's youngest surgical expert, and became his wife in name only. His on-call personal physician.

When Evan's grandfather fell gravely ill, I used my medical skills to save his life. In gratitude, his grandfather forced Evan to marry me.

From that moment on, in Evan's eyes, I became a scheming woman who'd used manipulation and tricks to marry him.

Some things can't be earned through effort. Like Evan's heart.

I walked out of the hospital. The sky hung heavy and dark, wild wind carrying cold rain that lashed against my face, bone-chillingly cold.

I returned to the empty hillside villa and placed the divorce papers neatly on the coffee table in the living room, waiting quietly.

At eight o'clock that evening, the villa's front door was pushed open from outside.

Evan was back. He wore an impeccably tailored black designer suit, his features cold and stern, unreachable as always. Except this time, a frail, pale woman rested in the crook of his arm.

Clara.

Evan's first love from years ago, the woman he'd waited for even if it meant defying his family, had finally returned from abroad.

"Get the medical kit." Evan didn't glance at the divorce papers on the table. He carried Clara straight to the sofa and sat down, his voice cold and commanding, as if ordering a servant.

I stood frozen. A stabbing pain seized my stomach, making my breath catch for a moment.

"Didn't you hear me?" Evan raised his eyes, his gaze slicing toward me like a blade, carrying an authority that permitted no resistance.

I lowered my lashes, forcefully swallowing the metallic taste rising in my throat, then turned to retrieve the medical kit from the storage cabinet.

When I got closer, I could finally see Clara's hand.

A shallow scratch marked the back of it, the blood barely dried.

For this tiny wound, he'd specifically summoned me, a chief surgical physician, to act as his nurse.

"Clara scraped her hand on her luggage when she got off the plane. Treat it for her. Be gentle. She's sensitive to pain." Evan's tone carried a nervousness and extreme tenderness he himself hadn't even noticed.

A tenderness I'd never possessed in ten years.

I silently crouched down and took out the iodine and cotton swabs.

Perhaps the stomach pain was affecting my nerves, or maybe it was the high fever I'd been running for days, but my hand trembled uncontrollably.

The cotton swab lightly brushed the edge of Clara's wound.

"Ah!" Clara flinched, her eyes instantly reddening as she looked pitifully at Evan. "Evan, it hurts."

The next second, Evan violently knocked my hand away.

The force was so great that my already weakened body fell backward, landing hard on the floor. My palm scraped heavily against the edge of the marble table, leaving a long, bloody gash.

"Can't you even do basic bandaging anymore?" Evan looked down at me from above, his eyes utterly cold. "Or are you taking issue with Clara and deliberately hurting her?"

I stared at my bleeding palm and suddenly laughed. The smile didn't reach my eyes. Only desolation remained.

"Evan, I'm a surgeon, not your personal maid." I braced myself against the cold floor and stood up, my voice hoarse from fever. "Since she's so afraid of pain, why don't you just put her in a sterile chamber?"

"Sophia!" Evan's expression darkened instantly, a terrifying fury rising in his eyes.

After all, in Evan's mind, I'd always been that docile, rational, even somewhat boring woman. I was like a convenient tool, never resisting any of his decisions.

But today, I'd dared to talk back.

Clara tugged at Evan's sleeve at just the right moment, choking out considerately, "Evan, don't blame Miss Sophia. Maybe my sudden return disturbed you both. I should leave. I don't want to affect your marriage..."

"This is my home. You're staying here." Evan gently clasped Clara's hand, his icy gaze piercing toward me. "Since you don't want to help, go back to your room and reflect."

I didn't argue, didn't spare them another glance.

I hid my bleeding hand in my sleeve, my gaze sweeping over the table. The divorce papers had already been knocked to the floor by Evan, now stained with mud from Clara's shoe, filthy beyond recognition.

"Fine, I'll leave."

I dropped those words quietly and turned toward the stairs.

The moment I closed the bedroom door, I leaned against it and slid to the floor, strength draining from my body. Violent pain surged through my stomach.

I bit down hard on my hand, swallowing every agonized whimper back into my belly, unwilling to make a single sound.

Ten years of devotion and delusion. It was finally time to wake up.

Sophia's POV

The next morning, I was woken by a commotion.

I pushed open my door to find several servants going in and out, packing up everything that belonged to me from the master bedroom and tossing it outside.

Clothes, books, and the medical notes I used for research. Scattered everywhere on the floor.

Clara stood at the master bedroom doorway wearing an oversized men's shirt, Evan's shirt, leaning lazily against the frame with a cup of hot milk in her hand.

"Sophia, I'm so sorry." Clara wore a victor's smile, though her eyes were full of provocation. "Evan said the guest room mattress was too hard. I don't sleep well, so he insisted I take the master bedroom. I had the servants clear out your things first."

So brazenly entitled.

I calmly observed the mess on the floor, feeling no hysterical anger. My heart had died completely last night. Not even a ripple could disturb it now.

"It's fine. I was planning to move out anyway."

I spoke flatly and moved forward to collect my things.

As I bent down, my gaze suddenly froze. In the corner, an exquisite glass hourglass lay shattered in pieces, its blue sand spilled across the floor.

Three years ago, on our wedding day, Evan had casually bought that and tossed it to me. To him, it was just a dismissive gesture to placate me. But to me, it was the only keepsake in my barren marriage.

"Oops, a servant accidentally knocked it over." Clara walked over and looked down at me haughtily, then lifted her foot and ground the blue sand beneath her slipper. "It's just a cheap hourglass. Someone as sophisticated as Miss Sophia surely wouldn't mind, right?"

My fingers clenched tight, nails digging deep into the wound on my palm. The pain was excruciating.

I took a deep breath, straightened up, and was about to step past Clara when I heard steady footsteps coming from the stairway.

Evan walked up carrying a freshly made breakfast. Seeing the scattered belongings and the two of us standing there in confrontation, his brow furrowed instantly into a knot.

"Sophia, what are you doing?" He questioned coldly, striding forward and pulling Clara behind him protectively.

"Evan, don't be angry." Clara immediately adopted a frightened expression, her eyes reddening. "Miss Sophia is probably upset that I took her room. She was just venting at me. It's all my fault. I should just stay in the guest room."

"Don't you dare." Evan's gaze turned glacial as he stared at me coldly. "Clara just returned and her health is poor. She should have the master bedroom. If you're unhappy, go live somewhere else."

"That's exactly what I intend to do."

My tone was surprisingly calm. I didn't argue. I turned and pulled another freshly printed divorce agreement from my bag, placing it in front of Evan.

"Yesterday's copy got dirty. This is a new one." I looked directly into Evan's unfathomable eyes and said coldly, "I've already signed it. I'm leaving with nothing, not taking a penny from the family. Let's finalize the divorce this afternoon."

Evan's gaze fell on the divorce papers. His pupils contracted sharply.

Then a mocking sneer crept across his lips. His long fingers gripped the agreement, and without even glancing at it, he tore it in half right in front of me.

The white paper scraps fluttered down, mingling with the shattered hourglass on the floor.

"Sophia, what game are you playing now?" Evan stepped closer, his tall frame radiating overwhelming pressure. "You schemed your way into marrying me, and now that Clara's back, you're using divorce to threaten me?"

"I didn't."

"Shut up!" Evan suddenly grabbed my chin, his grip so tight it felt like he'd crush my jaw. "I'm warning you. Without my permission, you can't use the title of Mrs. Blake to remarry someone else. For the rest of your life, you'll stay in this family and atone for what you did!"

With that, he released me roughly, put his arm around Clara, and turned back into the master bedroom.

The door slammed shut, severing me from everything inside.

I stood there for a long time, so long that the stomach cramps surged back like a tide. I clutched my abdomen and slowly crouched down, picking up the torn divorce papers piece by piece, clutching them tightly in my palm.

Atone?

I'd loved him for ten years. I'd saved his grandfather's life. For him, I gave up opportunities to study abroad. What crime had I committed to deserve being trampled like this?

Sophia's POV

Three days later.

I'd been at home enduring the excruciating pain from stomach cancer, unable to even drink water, when Evan's bodyguards forcibly dragged me out of bed.

Clara had developed acute appendicitis with abdominal infection after returning to the country and struggling to adjust. While not critically urgent, she needed immediate minimally invasive surgery.

Evan pulled every string he had, summoning the hospital director to Clara's room and demanding that I perform the operation.

And then Evan grabbed me by the throat and threatened me: "If you dare pull anything on the operating table, I'll throw your brother out of that care facility and make him beg on the streets!"

That was my only weak spot.

Ten minutes later, I was forced into surgical scrubs and stood before the operating table.

The surgical lights blazed on, harsh and cold against my pale face. I endured the spasms in my stomach, making each incision and suture with extreme precision. Drawing on my exceptional professional skill, the surgery was a complete success, the incision sutured flawlessly.

But two hours after the surgery ended, urgent alarms suddenly blared from Clara's VIP room.

Clara had developed a severe allergic reaction. Her entire body broke out in red hives, her breathing became rapid, and she even experienced brief shock.

When I dragged my weakened body to the hospital room, Evan stood there, eyes bloodshot, staring at the emergency monitors.

They pulled up the security footage. The video showed that in the ten minutes before Clara's allergic reaction, only one person had entered her room: me. I'd changed her IV drip.

"You did this." Evan spun around, charging at me like an enraged beast.

"I didn't. That was normal saline..." I tried to explain.

Slap!

A resounding slap struck my face, cutting off all my words.

The tremendous force sent me stumbling backward several steps until my back slammed hard against the cold wall. My mouth instantly filled with a strong metallic taste. My ears rang. Everything went black for a moment.

"You vicious woman! Can't you stand to see Clara happy? Do you have to kill her?!" Evan's roar echoed through the hospital corridor, drawing stares from surrounding medical staff.

I covered my swollen cheek. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth down my pale chin. I looked at this man I'd loved for ten years, and the last glimmer of light in my eyes extinguished completely.

"I told you, I didn't do it." My voice was eerily calm.

"Still lying! If anything happens to Clara, you'll pay with your life!"

Just then, the emergency doctor rushed out. "Mr. Blake, Miss Clara's condition is critical. She's lost too much blood and needs an urgent transfusion, but she has extremely rare RH-negative blood. The blood bank doesn't have enough!"

Evan's head snapped around, his gaze like a poisoned blade fixed on me.

He knew I also had RH-negative blood.

"Draw from her." Evan pointed at me, his tone utterly devoid of warmth, as if designating a spare blood bag from storage. "Draw until Clara is out of danger."

"Evan, I have severe anemia!" I jerked my head up, finally showing a trace of emotion in my eyes. I'd hidden the cancer, but the anemia was real.

"That's what you owe her!" Evan grabbed my wrist and dragged me mercilessly toward the blood collection room, forcing me down into the chair.

The cold needle pierced my vein. Bright red blood flowed steadily through the transparent tube.

200cc, 300cc, 400cc...

My vision started blurring. The warmth drained from my body bit by bit. I leaned back in the chair, watching my life's essence flow into another woman, a bitter smile twisting my lips.

I owed Clara? No. I only owed myself liberation.

Sophia's POV

After they'd drawn 400cc of blood, my vision had gone ghostly white. Even the strength to stand had been drained from me.

A nurse couldn't bear to watch and carefully handed me a cup of warm sugar water, only for Evan to block it mercilessly.

"She won't die." Evan stood nearby, looking at my bloodless face with cold detachment, as if viewing a cheap disposable item. "This is the punishment she deserves for doing wrong."

Clara's crisis was resolved. She was transferred overnight to a private hospital owned by the Blake family for better care.

At two in the morning, New York was lashed by torrential rain. The bitter wind carried icy droplets that struck like knives.

I dragged my crumbling body out of the hospital entrance, my thin white coat billowing in the wind. The violent stomach pain combined with the weakness from blood loss made every step feel like walking on blades.

A black Maybach sat parked at the bottom of the steps.

That was Evan's car.

The door hung half-open. Evan was carefully carrying Clara, wrapped in thick blankets, into the back seat.

I bit my pale lips and used my last shred of strength to walk over. My hand had just touched the passenger door handle when a cold, sharp voice stopped me.

"Who said you could get in?"

Evan turned his head, disgust crossing his face as he glanced at my pallor and the blood spots on my sleeve. "Clara's body is weak. She can't stand the smell of blood on you. Get home on your own."

My hand froze in midair.

I looked into the car. Clara was nestled in Evan's arms, her lips curling in a provocative smile aimed at me.

"Evan, I drew 400cc of blood. I'm still running a fever. I can't get a cab here..." My voice was extremely low, carrying the faintest hint of pleading. I truly couldn't hold on much longer.

"That's your problem. It has nothing to do with me."

Evan brushed my hand away without mercy and slammed the car door.

The black Maybach disappeared into the rainy night, splashing mud that stained my white coat hem.

The freezing downpour hammered down, instantly stripping away what little warmth remained in my body.

I stood on the empty street. The stabbing pain in my stomach finally reached its limit. My throat turned sweet. I coughed up a mouthful of dark red blood that mixed with rainwater and spread at my feet.

Before my vision plunged completely into darkness, I only felt that this world was so cold it was suffocating.

When I woke again, it was noon the next day.

I found myself lying in the hospital's on-call room. A passing security guard had carried me inside.

I propped up my aching body and reached for my phone on the side table. The screen showed dozens of missed calls and messages.

One message came from the hospital HR department. Cold and impersonal.

"Dr. Sophia, due to your involvement in a medical incident and violation of medical ethics, the hospital administration and our largest investor, Mr. Blake, have decided to suspend you indefinitely pending investigation, effective immediately."

My knuckles whitened as I gripped the phone, my breathing quickening.

Then the department director sent an even more suffocating message.

"Sophia, I'm so sorry. That targeted drug clinical research project you've led for three years. Mr. Blake has ordered it forcibly transferred. Now the project's primary investigator... has been changed to Clara."

Boom.

Like a thunderbolt to my brain, all the blood in my body went ice cold.

I'd stayed up countless nights for that project, reviewed endless research papers, even used my own body for drug trials to achieve those results! It was my proudest achievement as a physician!

To gild Clara's resume, to pave Clara's way in the medical field, Evan had so casually stripped away everything I had.

Without a moment's hesitation. Without a shred of mercy.

I stumbled to the bathroom and looked at the woman in the mirror, ashen-faced, hollow-eyed, and suddenly burst into hysterical laughter.

I laughed until tears streamed down, laughed until my stomach convulsed, coughing up mouthful after mouthful of fresh blood.

Ten years. I'd devoted my youth, my life's work, even my very life to this man.

In return, I was drained of blood, stripped of my faith, trampled into the mud and humiliated.

Evan, how could you be so cruel?

Sophia's POV

After leaving the hospital, I didn't return to the hillside villa.

With the little money I had left, I rented a basement apartment in the old district. Barely fifteen square meters, sunlight never reaching it.

I wanted to spend the final days of my life quietly in that dark corner.

But Evan wouldn't grant me even that small wish.

On the third night after I moved out, the decrepit wooden door of my basement was violently kicked open.

Blinding flashlight beams struck my face. I instinctively raised my hand to shield my eyes. Before I could see who it was, two burly bodyguards grabbed me by both arms and hauled me up.

"What are you doing?" I struggled weakly, cold sweat breaking out as pain radiated through my stomach.

"Sophia, we apologize. Mr. Blake ordered that you be brought back no matter what." The bodyguard's voice carried no emotion.

Like dragging a lifeless object, they roughly shoved me, still barefoot, into the car.

Half an hour later, I was once again forced to enter that cage-like villa.

The main hall blazed with lights. Evan sat on the sofa, his expression so dark it could drip water. Seeing me thrown onto the floor in such a wretched state, a faint trace of irritation flashed in his eyes.

"Temper getting bigger, is it? Learning to run away from home?" Evan sneered as he walked over, using the tip of his shoe to lift my chin. "Did you think hiding in that rat hole would keep me from finding you?"

I was forced to lift my head, my eyes as hollow as a soulless puppet.

"What does Mr. Blake want with a suspended quack like me?"

"Stop being sarcastic!" Evan suddenly grabbed my shoulder and pulled me up from the floor. "Clara's condition is unstable. She can't keep regular medication down. She vomits everything. Go prescribe medicine for her and use that treatment protocol you're best at to help her recover."

So it was for Clara.

My heart had already gone numb. I looked at Evan quietly, a mocking smile curving my lips. "What if I refuse?"

"Refuse?" Evan laughed coldly. "You can try. If you dare refuse, tomorrow morning you'll see your precious brother thrown out of his care facility and left to die in a garbage dump on the news."

That move again.

He always knew exactly where to drive the knife deepest.

"Fine. I'll prescribe medicine for her."

I closed my eyes, hiding all the despair and desolation in their depths.

Over the following days, I was completely reduced to Clara's personal maid and physician.

I was assigned to live in the cold, damp servants' quarters. Every day at four in the morning, I had to get up to prepare Clara's special liquid diet. The formula required extremely precise temperature control. I couldn't leave the stove for even a moment.

Between the late nights and exhaustion, my cancer symptoms grew increasingly severe.

Late one night, while I was tending the stove, my stomach suddenly felt like countless dull blades were slicing through it simultaneously. An explosion of excruciating pain.

My legs buckled and I crashed hard onto my knees on the hard tile floor.

Pain. Too much pain.

Cold sweat poured from my forehead in large drops. I bit down hard on a dish towel, refusing to let myself make a sound. The metallic sweetness churning in my throat could no longer be suppressed. I bent over the sink and vomited a large mouthful of crimson blood.

Bloody threads swirled down the drain, shocking to behold.

Just then, the kitchen door opened.

Evan walked in wearing a robe. Seeing me kneeling on the floor, body trembling, he frowned.

"Sophia, what are you pretending to be now?" His tone was full of impatience. "Is the medicine ready? Clara is waiting to drink it."

I frantically rinsed the blood from the corners of my mouth with cold water and struggled to stand, bracing myself against the sink.

"Almost... ready." My breathing came in tremors.

"Stop pretending. Didn't you use this pathetic act to deceive Grandfather back then? Get out of my sight. Bring it up as soon as it's done." Evan turned and left coldly.

I watched his back, slowly sliding to the floor and burying my head between my knees.

So this was true heartbreak. It made no sound at all.

Sophia's POV

Carrying the freshly brewed medicine, I climbed the stairs one painful step at a time.

My legs felt like they'd been filled with lead. My vision kept going dark. With each step, the stabbing pain in my stomach felt like it would tear me apart.

I pushed open the master bedroom door. Clara was lounging against the headboard playing with her phone. Seeing me enter, she set it down, a malicious smile curling her lips.

"Oh, Sophia is here. Thank you for getting up so early to make it for me." Clara's voice dripped with sweetness, yet carried undisguised malice.

I ignored her mockery and numbly set the bowl on the nightstand.

"Drink your medicine."

Clara picked up the bowl and took only a small sip. Suddenly her wrist twisted, and the entire bowl of scalding brown liquid splashed directly at me.

"Ah!!"

Though I reacted quickly and turned aside, more than half the hot soup still splashed onto the back of my hand and arm. My fragile skin instantly turned bright red, even blistering. The searing pain made me suck in a sharp breath.

Before I could speak, Clara suddenly screamed and deliberately smashed the empty bowl to the floor. Shards scattered everywhere.

"Help! Evan! Help!" Clara covered her face, crying pitifully on the bed.

Urgent footsteps sounded outside. Evan burst through the door in long strides.

"What happened?!"

Seeing the ceramic shards on the floor and Clara sobbing breathlessly, Evan's expression darkened to its limit.

"Evan, Sophia..." Clara pointed at me accusingly. "I said the liquid diet was too bitter and I wanted to wait until it cooled down. She suddenly got angry, smashed the bowl, and tried to hit me..."

"You're lying." I clutched my scalded arm weakly and protested. "You threw it yourself."

"Enough!"

Evan didn't listen to my defense at all. His dark eyes bored into me, fury blazing in their depths. "Sophia, I gave you a chance by having you serve Clara, and you dare take your anger out on Clara!"

"I told you, she threw it herself. Evan, why won't you believe me even once?" I looked at him, my eyes full of sorrow.

"Believe you? Why should I believe a scheming, vicious person like you?"

Evan strode forward, grabbed my collar, and shoved me aside without mercy.

"Get out! Stop polluting Clara's eyes with your presence!"

Already in extreme weakness from the cancer flare-up, his violent shove sent me flying like a kite with a broken string.

My forehead crashed hard into the sharp corner of a table.

Searing pain struck. Warm blood instantly streamed down my forehead, covering my left eye. The bright red droplets fell onto the light-colored carpet, shocking to see.

I curled up on the floor. The stomach spasms made even breathing difficult. The pain radiating from my forehead left my mind completely blank.

The agony was so severe I didn't even have the strength to moan. I could only bite my lip hard until I drew blood.

Evan saw the blood gushing from my forehead. He instinctively started to take a step forward.

But just then, Clara cried out in pain. "Evan, my chest hurts so much..."

Evan's steps halted instantly. He turned immediately and gathered Clara into his arms, soothing her gently.

When he looked back at me on the floor, his eyes had returned to their icy, piercing coldness.

"Stop playing pathetic for me." Evan looked down at me with disgust saturating his tone. "You scraped some skin and now you're playing dead? Hurry up and get out, then clean this floor!"

Scraped some skin.

Hearing those words, I suddenly laughed. The laugh was weak, hoarse. Eerily unsettling in the silent room.

I used my blistered hand to brace against the floor and shakily stood up. Blood still dripped down my cheek, but I seemed not to feel the pain at all, roughly wiping it away with my sleeve.

"Fine. I'll leave."

I didn't spare Evan another glance, didn't look at Clara. I turned and dragged my broken body out of the room, one step at a time.

Behind me, the door slammed shut again, cutting off that man's tenderness and cruelty.