I slumped on the floor, wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, stared at the empty doorway, and laughed until tears streamed down my face.

It didn't matter. Only three days left.

I didn't know why, but a sharp pain flared in my lower abdomen again, and I fainted in a daze.

At 3:00 AM, the villa’s front door was kicked open again.

Alexander rushed in, bringing with him the chill of the night and the smell of blood, followed by two family doctors in white coats.

His eyes were bloodshot, like a cornered beast. He stormed over and yanked me out of bed.

"Come with me."

My whole body ached, and I barely processed what was happening. "Where? Let me go!"

"Elena lost too much blood and went into shock. The blood bank is out of Rh-negative blood. You have the same blood type. Only you can save her."

His voice was cold, issuing the command as if it were his right.

I looked at him in disbelief, struggling desperately, my nails digging deep into his arm.

"I won't go! Why should I save my enemy? Alexander, are you a devil?"

"Besides, I don't feel well... my stomach hurts, I can't give blood..."

I cried and screamed, trying to awaken the last shred of his humanity. My lower abdomen had been aching for days, and my intuition told me something was wrong with my body. I couldn't take any more trauma.

Alexander turned a deaf ear to my pleas. He coldly gripped my chin.

"Elena only hit your back a few times; how could your stomach hurt? Ivy, you’d make up such an excuse just to avoid saving a life?"

"Taking a little blood won't kill you! Elena has old injuries because she saved me. If she dies tonight, you are a murderer!"

He forcibly pinned me down on the single sofa in the bedroom and signaled the doctors behind him.

"Do it. Draw until you have enough."

"No! Don't! Alexander, please... you'll regret this..."

I screamed in despair, watching the doctor approach with a thick needle.

Two bodyguards held my shoulders down, making it impossible to move.

The cold needle pierced my vein.

Alexander stood to the side, lit a cigarette, and watched impatiently as the blood bag filled up bit by bit. His eyes were glued to the vital signs monitor on his phone; he didn't even spare me a glance.

I watched the crimson liquid flow away through the tube. The dragging pain in my lower abdomen grew more intense, gradually turning into a tearing agony.

When I woke up again, I was lying in a VIP ward at the hospital.

The pungent smell of disinfectant made me feel a bit dazed.

Alexander was sitting by the bed. Seeing me open my eyes, a complex emotion flashed across his face—perhaps guilt, perhaps relief.

"You're awake? The nurse said you're just a bit anemic. You'll be fine after a few days of rest."

He reached out to tuck in the corner of my blanket, his movements stiff. "Last night... it was an emergency. My attitude was poor. I owe you one. I'll make it up to you."

Make it up to me?

I was about to sneer when his phone rang.

It was Elena’s custom ringtone.

His expression changed instantly. He answered the call, his tone gentle, like a completely different person. "Don't be scared, I'm right next door... Okay, I'm coming right now."

He hung up and didn't even look at me, hastily leaving a "I have urgent business" before turning to leave.

The moment the door closed, my attending physician walked in.

He took off his mask and looked at me solemnly. "Miss Ivy, I regret to inform you."

"You were pregnant, about five weeks along."

"But due to the excessive blood loss last night, combined with the previous physical trauma and severe emotional distress... the baby couldn't be saved."

"This is the consent form for the D&C procedure. It requires a family member's signature."

Boom—

My mind went blank.

Although I had a premonition, hearing the definitive news felt like a piece of my heart had been gouged out.

I subconsciously touched my flat stomach.

A little life had once grown there. It was Alexander’s child.

But that man had killed him with his own hands.

Tears rolled down silently, yet I laughed out loud—a shrill, desperate laugh.

"It’s okay, Doctor." I took the consent form, signed my name with a trembling hand, my voice strangely calm. "No family signature needed."

"This child... it's good he didn't come. He shouldn't have a father like that."

I took a black centurion card from my bag and slid it to the doctor.

"Do me a favor. Seal this information."

"Tell everyone I was hospitalized for stress-induced gastric bleeding. I don't want anyone to know about this child's existence, especially that man."

I stayed in the hospital for three days.

During those three days, Alexander didn't visit me once. I heard he was with Elena the entire time.

Rumor had it that because of this "injury" and her previous "meritorious service," Alexander even promised Elena shares in the family business to comfort her.

How ironic.

My phone vibrated. It was an encrypted message:

[ Princess, everything you asked for is here. The private flight route has been approved. The Rainier Family’s jet is waiting for you on the tarmac. ]

Immediately after, an encrypted file was transferred.

It was the irrefutable evidence uncovered by the Rainier family’s intelligence network—details on how Elena colluded with rival families, as well as all the planning recordings and bank transfer records for the shooting six months ago that made her a "savior."

Expressionless, I clicked forward. The recipient was Alexander’s mother, the true donna who tolerated absolutely no betrayal.

Elena wanted to be the Don’s wife, didn't she? I wanted to see if she could survive tomorrow once faced with ironclad proof of her treachery.

After doing all this, I didn't hesitate to pull the IV needle from the back of my hand. Blood gushed out, but I felt no pain.

I changed into a black trench coat and returned one last time to the study in the place I once called "home."

I placed the signed "Declaration of Secession from the Family" and the divorce papers squarely in the center of Alexander’s desk.

Then, with trembling hands, I took out the crumpled ultrasound slip from my pocket.

The doctor had given it to me before the surgery; it showed only a blurry little black dot.

I tore it in half and placed the pieces under the divorce papers.

Alexander, the game is over.

I pulled up my hood to cover my pale face, turned around, and boarded the private jet.