Blood Bank

Emilia Lancaster gently traced the rim of her wine glass. In the silent restaurant, the Wellington beef and the Romanée-Conti remained untouched.

This perfect dinner was staged solely for a perfect lie of a marriage.

She glanced at the Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet on her wrist—the only personal gift Delano had given her in their three years of marriage, offered with the coldness of a business transaction.

This marriage was nothing more than a deal she had struck to salvage her family's decline. For three years, she had played the flawless wife, yet had never managed to thaw his icy heart.

The antique clock on the wall chimed eight. He was an hour late.

Her phone buzzed on the silk tablecloth. "Delano."

A knot of anticipation tightened in her stomach. She answered, her voice betraying a hope she couldn't quite suppress.

"Are you on your way?"

"I have an emergency meeting at the office. I won't be back tonight." His voice was cold, distant. "You should get some sleep."

No explanation. No reference to the wedding anniversary.

Emilia's fingers whitened around her phone. She heard a faint cough from a woman in the background, which instantly shattered the last shred of hope she had clung to in her heart. She forced herself to ignore the suffocating doubt, yet could not stop the cold despair that surged up from deep within.

"Delano, today is our—"

"I know," he cut her off, his tone flat. "I had Arthur bring your gift to you."

The line went dead.

She stood frozen, the hope in her chest collapsing into a cold, empty cavern. Three years of trying, shattered in a single, careless sentence.

Her phone lit up again. A text from an unknown number.

She almost deleted it, assuming it was spam. But the preview text made her hand freeze.

"Mrs. Gates, want to know who your husband is really with tonight?"

Her thumb trembled as she opened the message. It contained a series of screenshots. A conversation between Fanny, Delano's ex‑girlfriend, and Delano.