I Was His Pregnant Blood Bag

Three years of marriage to Grant Caldwell, and I'm finally pregnant.

But he just denied my maternity leave. He expects me to keep working—right up until the day I give birth.

I used to think it was because he was worried. That he was afraid something might happen if I were home alone, and he wouldn't make it back in time.

Then his secretary, Star Jones, got hurt. Badly. Bleeding everywhere.

They dragged me in to donate blood.

That's when I heard the doctor say it—voice dripping with envy: "Ms. Jones, Mr. Caldwell truly treasures you. You have a clotting disorder and a rare blood type. He keeps a mobile blood bank ready, just for you."

My heart turned to dust.

Suddenly, it all made sense.

Why I was rejected after my initial interview at Caldwell Corp… only to get a callback because of my blood work.

Why my leave request was denied.

It was never about protecting me.

It was because I have that same rare blood type.

I gave up. I left the city. I walked away.

But not before I saw Star's smug expression.

"Grant is so overprotective," she purred. "He won't even let me pour my own water. I'm not that fragile—I can protect myself for him. I don't need a blood bank."

Grant's face was tense, but his voice shook with fear. "Don't talk like that. It's Susan Miller's honor to be your blood bank. You're infinitely more important than someone like her. Seeing you bleed… I almost lost my mind. Thank God you're okay."

He held her gently, trembling like he was cradling something priceless.

Then Star laughed lightly. "Lowly? She's carrying your child, isn't she?"

Grant buried his face in her shoulder. "If I hadn't bet that her child would have the same rare blood type… you think I'd let someone like her carry my child?"

Star laughed again—bright and cruel.

And I stood there, outside the door, my world crumbling.

I'm pregnant. And they just took eight hundred milliliters of my blood. I nearly passed out.

Not a word of concern from Grant.