Chapter 3

My grandfather's dying words echoed in my mind, his frail hand clutching mine. "The alliance is important, but you must live with dignity. Never let anyone trample you."

I'd failed to live up to his expectations. For the sake of this so-called alliance, I'd turned myself into a laughingstock.

Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and dialed a number.

It rang once before a calm voice answered, "Hello?"

"Mr. Schneider, does your promise from years ago still stand?"

"Cathy? Always."

I took a deep breath, resolute. "Marry me. I want the Whitman family out of the picture in three days."

"Done," he said without hesitation. "Time and place?"

"Tomorrow, 10 a.m., City Hall," I replied, ending the call.

...

I gathered my things and headed to the guest room to crash for the night.

Sam returned, booting the door open. Furious, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the exit. "You viper! Candace has severe heart-related anemia because of you! You're coming to the hospital to donate your blood!"

I stumbled, pain shooting through my wrist. "Are you insane? What has it got to do with me?"

He yanked harder, ignoring my protest. "I'm not asking. Don't make me force you. The doctor says her anemia is critical, and you're the only match with her rare blood type. You're doing this."

He shoved me into his car and sped toward the hospital.

In the room, Candace lay on the bed, an oxygen mask over her pale face, looking every bit the dying waif. But when she saw me, she reached weakly for Sam, a smug smirk curling her lips.

Sam pinned my wrist and forced me into a chair. "She's got the blood type. Take as much as you need."

The nurse hesitated, watching me struggle. "Sir, this lady doesn't seem willing."

Sam pulled a stack of cash from his wallet and slammed it on the table. "Do it. I'll handle any fallout."

I was held down as the needle pierced my skin. Blood flowed through the tube, bag after bag filling as the nurse swapped them out. My body grew colder, my head heavier, the world blurring around me.

In my daze, I heard Candace's frail voice. "Sam, is it okay to take so much? What if she can't handle it?"

He soothed her. "She'll be fine. You're the one who's suffered. When you're better, I'll take you abroad to relax."

"Really?" Her voice perked up. "You're the best, Sam."

She sent him off to get some fruit from downstairs, then sauntered over to me, dropping her frail act. "See? This is the difference between us. You thought a marriage contract could tie him to you? Pathetic."

She crossed her arms, smirking. "He's always loved me. I wanted you to suffer, so he played along with this little blood-draw show to keep me happy. Your blood and your pride? Worthless."

Her cruel laughter pierced my ears as I retched, my vision darkening. Sam had known all along. He knew she was faking it to torment me, yet he still played her game.

Rage and betrayal burned through me as I lost consciousness.

When I came to, I was slumped in a chair by Candace's hospital bed. She leaned into Sam's arms, tears streaming down her face.

"Don't be mad at Cathy," she murmured. "I don't want to ruin your marriage. I'm fine, as long as you're okay."

He wiped her tears, his voice tender. "Focus on getting better. That's what matters."

Then his eyes flicked to me, heavy with something unspoken.