On the snow-white bedsheet, the woman lay there pale as paper, tied to the bed. Both wrists and ankles were locked in cuffs. Her slim arms were covered in needle marks, tubes running every which way, drawing blood out of her in a steady stream.

"Mr. Ellison, that's enough already. If this keeps going, I'm worried your wife won't be able to take it."

"Take a little more. She's strong. She's got plenty of blood."

"But..."

The doctor glanced at the thin, almost skeletal woman on the bed and couldn't help shaking his head.

Selena Whitfield had kept her eyes shut the whole time, but none of the man's cold words missed her ears.

How laughable.

Can't take it?

In these three whole years, when had Zachary Ellison ever cared whether she could take it or not?

As long as it was for that woman, let alone draining her blood, he'd probably be fine with taking her life too.

"One more bag. Then we're done."

The man's icy voice cut through the room. Even the nurse sitting beside Selena, the one in charge of drawing blood, trembled and nearly lost her grip.

Bag after bag filled up, her fresh blood flowing out of that frail body and into the empty plasma packs. Only then did the man standing nearby finally let his face ease a little.

With a sharp click, the cuffs on her limbs were undone. The woman on the bed slowly lifted her eyes and stared at the glaring ceiling light.

Then she spoke, voice flat and cold. "If you want my blood that badly, why make such a huge scene? It's ugly. Why don't you just give me a child? I'll donate willingly and save your sweetheart."

That set Zachary Ellison off in an instant. He turned around and clamped a hand around her chin. "Dream on! Selena Whitfield, you want to get pregnant with my child so you can save that little bastard of yours? Don't even think about it. I will never let you get what you want. Taking your blood is what you deserve. You owe Clara a life."

Hearing that, the woman, chin pinched hard enough to hurt, let out a small mocking laugh.

Her heart, hardened so long it had gone numb, still hurt after all.

So even now, Zachary Ellison still believed she was the one who ruined Clara Whitfield.

Then again, that made sense. In his eyes, three years ago, if Selena hadn't schemed against her own younger sister Clara Whitfield, causing her to get into a car accident right before the engagement and leaving her with a blood-producing disorder, and if it just so happened that only Selena's blood type was a perfect match for Clara's long-term transfusions, then how could Selena ever have gotten the chance to shamelessly show up with an illegitimate daughter and force her way into the Ellison family as his wife?

So it wasn't just Zachary Ellison. Pretty much everyone in A City thought Selena Whitfield was ruthless and shameless, someone who would do anything for status and profit, even dragging along her two-year-old illegitimate daughter to marry her own sister's fiancé.

At first, Selena Whitfield had fought like crazy to explain herself. But when every explanation she gave got twisted into “excuses” by other people, she stopped. Just shut up completely.

What other people thought? She didn’t care anymore.

The only thing she cared about was whether she and Zachary Ellison could have a child.

A child who could save her daughter’s life.

"Heh, even if I do owe Clara Whitfield a life, you still can’t actually kill me. After all, she’s still living off my blood, isn’t she?!"

"Selena Whitfield!"

Seeing the smug look on her face, Zachary wanted nothing more than to snap her neck right then and there.

If it weren’t for her, Clara Whitfield would never have ended up like this.

If it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t be humiliated now because of that extra illegitimate daughter who had shown up out of nowhere.

Every bit of disgrace, every disaster in his life, had been brought by the woman right in front of him.

And yet Selena Whitfield was still this shameless, this thick-skinned, like nothing in this world could crack the armor wrapped around her.

"Give me a child, and I’ll donate blood willingly. Otherwise, I’ll make my blood unclean. I can handle it, but your Clara Whitfield? She can’t."

"You—"

Zachary was so furious his teeth were grinding. How could this woman be this cheap, this vile?

He reached out and violently tore at Selena Whitfield’s clothes, not caring at all about how weak and dry she was, then drove into her hard from behind, forcing her face deep into the pillow.

"Fine. You want it? I’ll give you exactly what you asked for."