Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out. I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm: "In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling." Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped. When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself." Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son. The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne. I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie." I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.

Modern Parenting Ex-wife Drama

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"Blood type O positive. Donor number XZ-09-2024."

The Master of the Vitalis House tapped a finger in his right temple as the butler servant recited.

Sitting in his throne-like chair fronting the grand hall never had been this painful. Parched, very hungry, and almost at his limit, he waited for his servant to finish. The wine flute that contained the delicious crimson liquid was just within his reach.

Just. Within. His. Reach.

Yet he didn't move a muscle and just waited for the servant to hand it to him.

"Milord, this is the blood that you have been waiting for, " the butler noted, lifting the silver tray nearer.

Amidst seeing nothing other than entire darkness in his front, a small smile grew on his lips.

"At last, " came his reply and with ease, he straightened in his seat and managed to take out the flute from the tray without tumbling it down.

The cold contact of the glass against his warm fingers was a great welcome. It reminded him of the feeling he had in a similar wintry season last year when he held the same container with the same blood flowing with life.

As much as he wanted to drink such precious liquid every day, he couldn't as the supposed donor opt a yearly donation only, in a blood bank where his butler gets to purchase it. He doesn't even know whether the donor, who stayed in the opposite side of the world, was a male or a female, but as if that mattered to him.

He smelt it first, tipping the rim of the glass close to his nostrils and instantaneously caught the faint smell of the jasmine leaves mixed inside.

Ahh, what an aroma, his mind confessed and right then and there, ghosted another smile.

He, of all the living and nonliving beings under his wing, was the only one who preferred to have his meal like this - in a wine flute and mixed with jasmine leaves. Atypical for a dark creature like him, yes, but this was the only leisure that he ever preferred since he disliked feeding directly from the humans.

"As indicated in the Red Cross database, the donor decided for two bags this time so you have two days' supply of the blood Milord, " informed the butler as he watched his Master sip leisurely. One hand was now on the forehead of a fully grown black panther, making doodles while the big cat purred and nudged its cheek against the armrest.

"Good to know, Jerome, " the Master stated with a small nod; his voice in equal parts soporific and velvety. "At least I have two days before my fasting begins again."

"Right, and I believe you are doing that on purpose?" came out a male voice behind the throne. Immediately, the panther stood on guard, hissing and growling as it locked its feline eyes on the trespasser.

To give some privacy, the butler dismissed himself, walking out of the dais into a closed door where it led to a huge kitchen.

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