Chapter 3

Dragging my exhausted body, I returned to the home Christine and I were supposed to share after our marriage.

Calling it our marital home was a joke. It was filled with the limited-edition watches and accessories she had bought for Lucian, while all I had there was a single suitcase.

I pulled out my suitcase and began packing my clothes.

Lucian was sitting on the couch playing with his dog. When he saw that I was leaving, he couldn't hide the smug look in his eyes.

He walked over and sneered, "You're no match for me, Maxwell. You saw it yourself, didn't you? Christie even used cutting-edge technology like the AR comment system just to teach you a lesson for my sake. Here, you're worth less than a dog.

"If you know what's good for you, get out of Stafford Villa and give me back my rightful place as Christie's other half."

I couldn't even be bothered to spare him a glance. Pulling my suitcase behind me, I headed straight for the door.

Lucian was unhappy that I'd ignored him. A vicious look immediately flashed across his eyes.

He grabbed the glass music box Christine had casually given me years ago from the table. The next second, he smashed it onto the floor and threw himself onto the pile of shattered glass. The broken pieces instantly sliced open his palm.

"Ouch! It hurts!" he yelled.

Just then, the front door swung open.

Christine had just come home. The moment she took in the scene, her eyes widened with fury.

Lucian's eyes immediately reddened. "Maxwell, I was just asking you not to be angry with Christie. Why did you push me?"

Christine's face darkened with rage as she rushed over and slapped me hard across the face. The force knocked my head to the side, and blood seeped from the corner of my mouth.

Shielding Lucian protectively behind her, Christine looked at me coldly. "First, you refused to save Lucian's dog and nearly got it killed. Now, you're trying to hurt him too? How could you be so evil?"

Cupping my swollen cheek, I pointed at the security camera. "I didn't push him. He fell on his own. If you don't believe me, check the surveillance footage."

Christine responded with a scoff. "Lucian won't even step on an ant since he was little. Would he hurt himself just to frame you? At least come up with a better excuse if you're going to lie!"

Right on cue, Lucian cried out in pain and pretended to faint.

Panicked, Christine hurriedly called for the family doctor. After examining him, the doctor said Lucian had a mild clotting disorder and needed a blood transfusion.

Christine turned toward me, her eyes blazing. "Take his blood! He has the same blood type as Lucian!"

I took an involuntary step backward in disbelief. "I just fainted today. If you take my blood now, it'll kill me!"

She retorted, "That fainting spell was obviously fake. What's the big deal about taking a little blood from you?"

Before I could move, several bodyguards stepped forward and pinned me down on the couch. The needle pierced my vein, and my blood flowed into the collection bag.

As I watched Christine hold Lucian's hand with concern in her eyes, I felt an intense, stabbing pain right in my heart.

Three years earlier, Christine had been in a horrific car accident and had nearly bled to death. Ignoring the doctors' warnings, I had insisted on donating 800 cc of my blood to pull her back from death's door.

But when she woke up, Lucian had claimed all the credit for himself.

Now, she didn't think twice before draining my blood over nothing more than a small cut on Lucian's hand.

As more blood left my body, I felt increasingly cold. My vision gradually blurred. Halfway through the transfusion, I could no longer hold on and completely blacked out.

When I woke up again, I was lying in the guest room. No one had cared whether I lived or died.

I picked up my phone and saw the post Christine had published on Instagram ten minutes earlier.

The photo showed Lucian leaning against her shoulder while drinking a bowl of warm soup with their fingers tightly intertwined.

The caption read, "You are my only bottom line."

Staring at the photo that was an eyesore, I realized I couldn't even cry anymore.

I pulled the IV needle, now stained with blood from the backflow, out of the back of my hand. Then, I placed the engagement termination agreement, which I had already signed, on the table.

Next, I dialed the number for Doctors Without Borders.

I said, "It's me, Dr. Foster. I've decided to join the medical peacekeeping team in the war zone. I can leave today."