Where Can I Read 'Blood And Iron' (ASOIAF/GOT)?

I was the heiress switched at birth by a nanny. It was not until I turned eighteen that my biological parents finally found me, and traded me back for the girl they had raised and loved as their own. However, fate played a cruel joke that very same week. My parents died in a car accident. The family business collapsed. In one night, I lost everything. My older brother survived, but his kidneys failed. I did not hesitate. I gave him mine. However, grief broke something in him. Blaming me for our parents' deaths, he spiraled into madness. "You killed Mom and Dad! Why wasn't it you who died instead?" he screamed. I gave up college and took on three jobs a day just to pay for his treatment. Years passed. One day, while cleaning a mansion as a housekeeper, I saw her, the "sister" I was traded for, gliding through a lavish party, dressed in designer clothes and dripping in jewels. I froze when I heard the voices I had long thought silenced. My parents, alive, speaking to her as gently as ever: "Jasmine, you're so compassionate… agreeing to end Helen's punishment early." My brother, the one who should still be seeing a therapist, frowned and objected. "No. Not even a day less. Just because she suffers a little doesn't mean she deserves to live." I glanced down at the medical report still warm in my hands. For the first time in years, I smiled. "Perfect," I whispered. "Now I can finally die like I wanted to."

Three days after I died, my fiancé got a call to ID the body. He just scoffed. "She's dead, so what? Call me when she's in the ground." The cops, out of options, hit up my backup contact—my childhood friend. He actually laughed. "She's really gone? Not my problem. Burn her or whatever." Then my body hit the internet— And suddenly, both of them looked like ghosts.

When Mom and Dad went broke—$30K in debt—they let collectors sell me to Nyamara, a lawless border strip full of trafficking, forced labor, and private prisons. I slept in flooded cells. Ate rotten food. Tried to run. They smashed both my legs with iron rods. I dragged myself home—and walked in on them planning Nina's sweet eighteen. Dad flicked his hand and dropped $3 million on a top-tier jewelry set for her. Mom smiled, then mentioned me. "I heard Talia cries every day, begging to come home. When do we tell her the truth and bring her back?" Dad shook his head, smug. "What's the rush? This is her gift. Let her tough it out one more month. Otherwise, how's she supposed to inherit our billions?" I tightened my grip on the medical report—severe infection in both legs. Mom. Dad. I don't even have a month left.

After helping my husband build his business from the ground up, I settled into life as a full-time housewife. When our daughter's tenth birthday approached, I planned to host a grand celebration for her. I booked a party that cost 2 thousand dollars per table. But when I swiped my card at the hotel, the staff gave me a strange look. "Mrs. Richmond, this card doesn't even have fifty dollars in it to charge." Flushed with embarrassment, I went home to confront my husband. He wore an apologetic expression. "Lately, the company's been competing for contracts. The new government official is insatiably greedy, and I've had to spend a lot under the table to smooth things over. Once the funds turn around, I'll make sure our daughter gets the grand birthday she deserves." I gave him a gentle, understanding smile—but as soon as I turned away, I began tallying our assets. Because that so-called "new government official" was none other than my father. And in his office, there hadn't been any bids or contracts at all. Now I intended to find out exactly where my husband had spent all our money.

On the week before Valentine's Day, I want to buy my husband, Grayson Strickland, who works as a university professor, an electronic toothbrush as a gift. That's when I see a review with over ten thousand likes on a particular online store. "I recommend buying from this store! This store's electronic toothbrush is super durable! I've never had to charge this toothbrush for half a year!" Three days later, an additional response is made to that comment. "I'm sorry for misleading everyone. It turns out that my husband has been charging this toothbrush this whole time. It's my fault for being such a doofus! I even pestered him for a long time before I finally found out that he has done a lot for me! "I never have to add toilet rolls to the bathroom. All I thought is that the same toilet roll is extremely thick. The membership that I have on the TV app is often paid for and extended, and yet I thought there was a bug in the app software somehow. Some time ago, the peeling dry skin on my lips miraculously healed. It turns out he was the one who kept applying lip balm onto my lip at night. "He's a university professor, you see. In the past, I often blamed him for not knowing what being romantic was like. But now, I finally realize that those who love you will have a way of showing you how it's done." The rest of the comment section is filled with wailing complaints. They all complain that Valentine's Day isn't even here, and yet they are already sick of the lovey-dovey atmosphere. Amid the Internet users' constant requests, the poster finally uploads the handsome side profile of her husband. Feeling rather envious, I tap on the photo, only for my smile to freeze on my face. That photo actually features Grayson! As I stare at my mother-in-law, who has been paralyzed in bed for the past six years, I recall the fact that Grayson lives on the university campus all around the year. That's when uneasiness begins plaguing me. As expected, when I bring my marriage certificate to the County Clerk’s office and ask about it, the clerk points at the stamp and says, "Your marriage certificate is fake. Mr. Grayson Strickland's spouse is another woman named Callista Whitman." My fingers go slack subconsciously, causing the fake marriage certificate to fall to the floor. A chuckle of despair escapes my lips. Everyone knows that Callista is Grayson's student. She's his most prized student as well as the person who knows him the best. As for me… I'm just a free caretaker whom he has "hired".

After confirming I was pregnant, I suddenly heard my husband’s inner voice. “This idiot is still gloating over her pregnancy. She doesn’t even know we switched out her IVF embryo. She’s nothing more than a surrogate for Elle. If Elle weren’t worried about how childbirth might endanger her life, I would’ve kicked this worthless woman out already. Just looking at her makes me sick. “Once she delivers the baby, I’ll make sure she never gets up from the operating table. Then I’ll finally marry Elle, my one true love.” My entire body went rigid. I clenched the IVF test report in my hands and looked straight at my husband. He gazed back at me with gentle eyes. “I’ll take care of you and the baby for the next few months, honey.” However, right then, his inner voice struck again. “I’ll lock that woman in a cage like a dog. I’d like to see her escape!” Shock and heartbreak crashed over me all at once because the Elle he spoke of was none other than my sister.