He Drained Me Dry For Another Woman

I was dying after a horrific car crash—until my husband, Mark Hamilton, saved me by turning me into an AI robot.

Worried I wouldn't be able to handle the transition, Mark took a long vacation to care for me. Six months later, I went to the hospital for a routine checkup. But instead of an exam, I was knocked out cold and rushed straight into surgery.

Half-conscious, I heard Mark's voice cutting through the fog.

"Don't give Emily any anesthetic for the transfusion. I'm worried it'll interfere with Sarah's recovery."

A stranger's voice replied, hesitant. "You're really going to drain all your wife's blood for Sarah Collins? After everything Emily went through becoming an AI… are you sure about this?"

Mark let out a cold, hollow laugh. "If it weren't for Emily's Rh-negative blood, I never would've married her in the first place."

"She—and any kids we might have—are nothing but walking blood banks for Sarah. That's their only purpose."

"Besides," he added, voice flat and cruel, "she's an AI robot. Losing a little blood won't kill her. Her mutated genes help her regenerate fast. She'll bounce back. But if Sarah doesn't get a full transfusion, she'll die."

All of it—the perfect meet-cute, the love-at-first-sight fairytale—was a lie.

But Mark didn't know I'd already donated blood to Sarah multiple times. My health was hanging by a thread. And now I was pregnant—which triggered another genetic mutation.

A full transfusion would finish me. For real.

I was awake, though groggy, when they strapped me to the operating table. Mark noticed. Panic flashed in his eyes—then he slammed his fist into my temple.

Everything went black. My soul seemed to lift out of my body.

The doctor paled. "Mr. Hamilton—you hit her too hard! She can't take much more!"

Mark's face hardened. "Relax. I had a truck turn her into mincemeat, and I still brought her back. She's not that fragile."

"Now hurry up. Her blood can't be contaminated. Sarah's life depends on it."

The doctor hesitated, standing over me. "Mr. Hamilton, if we're going to take all her blood… at least let me give her anesthetic. I'm afraid she might—"

"Afraid of what?!" Mark snapped. "If she can't handle a little pain, what was the point of me marrying her and treating her like a queen?"

The doctor didn't argue further. He sent Mark away and began the procedure.

Even unconscious, I felt the blade slice into my skin.

Memories of my life with Mark flashed before my eyes. Even now, hearing his confession with my own ears, I still couldn't believe he was the one behind my accident.

When Mark decided the blood wasn't flowing fast enough, he ordered the doctor to make countless small incisions all over my body.

I bit my lip against the agony, my whole body trembling.

The doctor looked almost sorry—but still tied me down with restraints. Wiping sweat from his brow, he called Mark again, voice shaking.

"Mrs. Hamilton isn't doing well. Even unconscious, her nervous system is registering the pain. Are you sure we can't administer—"

"Just draw the blood! If you've got time to talk, you've got time to give her painkillers after. Now do your job."

He hung up. The last flicker of hope inside me died.

Maybe it was the baby fighting for life—but my soul slammed back into my body.

Before I could even move, I felt a warm wetness between my legs.