Chapter 1

I lay on the delivery bed, bleeding out. The doctor shouted in panic, "Where's her family? Someone needs to sign the critical condition notice! Her blood type is rare, and the blood bank is running low!"

Outside the door, the shrill voice of my mother-in-law, Amy Shaw, pierced through the crack. "Sign what? She's just having a baby. So delicate. My son is next door, giving Emily blood to save her life. Stop bothering him!"

My husband, David Shaw, was right next door with his "pure and innocent" first love, Emily Lane. Emily had merely slit her wrist to gain sympathy, yet David acted as if the world were ending.

Meanwhile, I was risking my life to give birth to his child.

As my consciousness faded, I heard Amy laughing over the phone.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Lane. I just used those rare tonic herbs you sent to make soup for Emily. Once she drinks it, she'll recover in no time. Claire? She's tough. She won't die," Amy said.

*****

The surgical lights blazed white above me. I felt like a fish that had been cut open and laid across a cold metal slab.

The agony in my abdomen had already gone numb, replaced by a warm, hopeless sensation of something draining away.

It was my blood. It ran down through the gaps in the delivery table and dripped into the metal bucket below. The sound was painfully sharp in the dead silence of the delivery room.

"Her blood pressure is dropping! We can't stop the bleeding!" the lead doctor shouted, his voice trembling. "Get her family to sign. We have to remove the uterus immediately to save her life!" In that moment, I felt Death's blade press against my neck.

With a shaking hand, I reached for the phone beside me, its screen soaked with blood. My fingertips slid over the sticky glass as I called David.

Each ring landed like a hammer against my ribs, which felt as if they were about to fall apart. No one answered.

A nurse pushed the delivery room door open a crack. The argument outside slithered in like poison.

"Where is David?" the nurse cried, her voice cracking with urgency. "The patient is hemorrhaging. Someone needs to sign!"

Amy snapped, "Why are you shouting?" Her voice was sharp, cruel, and filled with undisguised disgust.

"She's only losing a little blood. When I gave birth to David, I was still working in the fields. I rested one night and was fine.

"Women these days are so spoiled. Is she trying to trick my son into paying off her family's debts?"

A metallic sweetness rose in my throat. Blood foam was coming up. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them I was dying. But inside the oxygen mask, there was only my rapid, faint breathing.

Amy lowered her voice, but every word was still chillingly clear. "Nurse, go tell that woman lying in there that David can't leave right now.

"Emily cut her wrist so deeply because she was trying to save him. David is giving her blood. Emily has P-type blood, and so does David. That's fate. Tell her to hold on by herself. Nothing matters more than Emily's life."

It felt as if a hole had been carved straight through my chest, and freezing wind poured in.

David, my husband, was separated from me by only one wall. While I risked my life to give birth to his child, he was giving his blood to another woman.

Half an hour later, the ward door was slammed open. I was still reeling from that hellish emergency, my face as pale as paper, like I could shatter at any moment.

David came in wearing the patient gown from the next ward. His sleeve was rolled up, revealing a glaring piece of medical tape over the needle mark.

It was proof that he had given blood to Emily. His gaze swept over me, then darted away, as if he were avoiding something filthy.

"Where are the herbs?" David asked. "Mom said they were with you."

That was the first thing he said. He did not ask if I was in pain. He did not look at the baby who had just been sent to observation. He did not even ask about the uterus I had lost.

Amy rushed to my bedside cabinet and rummaged through it like a thief. I was too weak to move. I could only watch as she snatched up the delicate wooden box.

My parents had specially arranged for those rare tonic herbs to be sent over a few days ago. They had meant to help me recover after childbirth.

"David... those are from my parents..." I said. My voice rasped like sandpaper scraping across the floor.

"Enough, don't bring up your parents," Amy snapped, hugging the rare tonic herbs box like it was her most prized possession. She shot me a look full of disgust.

"You couldn't even protect your own child, had to lose your uterus—what a useless money pit. You don't deserve something this precious. Emily's face is as white as paper because she was hurt saving my son.

"These herbs should nourish Emily. Consider it a good deed."

I stared hard at David, my nails digging into my palm. I felt no pain. I wanted to see even a trace of guilt on his face. Even a little would have been enough.

But he only frowned, his tone filled with a chilling sense of entitlement. "Claire, you're already out of danger," David said. "Don't be so petty. Emily is weak. I'll owe you for the herbs. When I have time, I'll buy you twice as much."

He turned and supported his mother, as if I were some kind of disease. Before leaving, he tossed out a cold sentence.

"Get some sleep. Emily hasn't woken up yet, and she's timid. I need to be there when she wakes up. Hold on. Emily is still waiting for me to bring the soup over."

The door slammed shut, shattering the last bit of warmth left in me.