Chapter 1

My wife was a hematologist.

Obsessively, she collected blood samples from everyone in the city, determined to perform a full-body blood replacement for her first love, Amir, who was terminally ill.

I was tied up, stuffed into a sack, struggling desperately.

Her first love, Amir, weakly cried out, "He's so strong. I can't hold him down."

Upon hearing this, my wife grabbed a shovel from the ground and relentlessly smashed my head, blow after blow.

"Good thing it's you. He stopped struggling when he saw you."

Later, Amir wanted another blood replacement.

This time, she completely broke down.

*****

A black cloth was stuffed in my mouth, my hands and feet bound tightly. I writhed and struggled inside the sack like a maggot.

My kidnappers had deliberately cut two small holes in the sack, allowing me a limited view of the outside world.

The man had a deathly pale face but a burly build. He kicked me hard in the chest, the pain so intense I couldn't catch my breath.

The kidnapper was Amir Wilson.

The first love of my wife, Isabelle George.

Amir picked up a shovel, kicking and beating the sack I was in.

He didn't resemble the dying man on the verge of death that Isabelle had described at all.

The pain made me struggle violently, my body rubbing raw against the ground over and over, but I could only roll around like a ball, which seemed to sharpen Amir's aim.

Amir mercilessly struck my head with the shovel. I could only let out muffled grunts and moans.

Suddenly, Amir threw his whole body on top of me, but the force behind it felt much weaker.

Thinking it was my chance, I struggled desperately.

Amir, his voice feigning weakness with a few drops of sweat beading on his temple, said with effort, "Isabelle, I can't hold him down."

My limbs went stiff instantly.

Through the two small holes in the sack, I saw Isabelle snatch the shovel Amir had dropped. The muscles in her face twitched, her eyes cold and merciless, as she swung the shovel at my head like she was smashing a cucumber.

The moment my body died, my spirit abruptly separated.

Seeing the large patch of blood seeping through the sack, Isabelle quickly dropped the shovel and helped Amir up, asking, "Is his blood compatible? I think I killed him. Will it affect your transfusion treatment?"

Amir gripped her hand in return, excited and agitated. "It won't. I'll have someone take him away immediately."

Isabelle nodded, her legs beginning to tremble belatedly.

She asked, "Who was he? If he's just dead like this, won't someone report it to the police soon?"

Amir looked at her. "He was an orphan, no parents. Had a wife, but no real connection."

Isabelle murmured, "That's good then. No one will care that he's dead."

I stood there in a daze, my whole heart plunging into an ice cellar.

Isabelle crouched down, untied the sack, and her pupils constricted sharply.

She stifled a scream that seemed to burst from her throat, the corner of her mouth twitching uncontrollably. "Why is it Reagan?"

Amir's eyes drooped downwards, and he spoke dejectedly, "Isabelle, I'm sorry... Only his blood can cure my illness..."

He frantically lunged for the shovel near Isabelle's feet. "It's all my fault, I just wanted to live so badly! How could I target your husband? I'm guilty. I'll pay it with my life right now."

"That's not what I meant! I... I was just a bit shocked. It's better that it's Reagan. I can make up a story about him having left the country."

Isabelle tentatively wrapped her arms around Amir's waist, pressing her face tightly against his chest. "Nothing is more important than curing your illness."

Amir cupped her face, a sly look in his eyes. "What would I do without you? I never could've handled him on my own.

"He saw you, and then he didn't struggle anymore."

Yes, the moment I saw it was Isabelle swinging that shovel, this wave of absolute despair hit me. I just went numb.