I Know It Was The Blood For Me Novels & Stories

My wife's soul mate had Rh negative blood just like me. In order to make my wife happy, he donated his bone marrow to me then committed suicide. I was put on the blame for his death. Everyone blamed me for killing him. My wife who received his suicide note went crazy. She started to draw blood from my body. She was extremely cruel. "You owe that to me. He would not have died if not because of you. I am only returning to him something that did not belong to you." When the soul mate reappeared, my wife started looking for me like crazy. She did not know that I had died for losing too much blood.

When Annie passes away after delivering a beautiful baby girl,her husband Peter Walters blames her for the death of his beloved. He shows her no love or attention. Being convinced by his brothers to marry her off at the age of 18 to a poor boy, he does so to rid him of his burden. After facing many

The biggest mistake I had ever made was falling in love with my Alpha stepbrother, Cayden Gates. I was 12 when my mom remarried, and he was the only one in the new pack who treated me kindly. I fell for him at first sight. When I was 16, I was attacked by rogue wolves, and he fought off ten of them alone to protect me. At 18, he was poisoned by silver. He nearly died. That was when my wolf told me he was my fated mate. Without hesitation, I donated my bone marrow to save him. That night, watching him asleep with a pale face, I couldn't help but kiss the corner of his lips. He opened his eyes at that exact moment, his face flushing red. "Tessa, we're siblings. You shouldn't cross that line." From then on, he started avoiding me, like I was a mistake he couldn't afford to make. His fiancée, Rosie Lloyd, had been diagnosed with a rare blood disease, and I was the only compatible donor. For the first time, he pleaded with me. "If you're willing to save her, I'll agree to anything." But I was already weak from the marrow transplant. Giving blood again might kill me. I said no, and Rosie died in the end. He didn't shed a single tear, like nothing had happened. But at her funeral, he smashed the portrait I'd painted of him in front of everyone and said coldly, "How filthy of you to dream of being with your own brother." Later, I became a disgrace, a walking joke. Humiliation and despair swallowed me whole, and in a haze, I fell into the lake and drowned. When I open my eyes again, I'm back at the moment he begs me for blood. I say yes calmly. I consider it the final debt I owe the Gates family. Cayden, from now on, we're done. There are no more ties between us.

During a company team-building event, I collapse from a seafood allergy. Yet my fiance, Frederick Scott, rushes Beatrice Sutton, who only twisted her ankle, to the hospital. I come close to dying because I don't get treatment in time. Later, Frederick explains, "Beatrice is my best friend's sister. He's seriously ill now, and I promised him I'd take care of his sister. I swear I'll keep my distance from her from now on." This isn't the first time I've heard an excuse like that. On our fifth anniversary, Beatrice accidentally deleted a work file and burst into tears out of worry. When Frederick heard about it, he left me stranded on a mountain and drove back to the office himself. I spent a whole day and night walking home through the rain. On Christmas, Beatrice's house lost power. Frederick was worried that she might be scared of being alone, and he rushed over to her place without even telling me, leaving me out in the snow waiting for him until dawn. These kinds of things have happened countless times. Afterward, he always brushes them off with the same excuse. I've long since lost all faith in him and no longer believe a single word he says. I pick up my phone and call the company that keeps reaching out to me. "I've decided to accept your offer from last time. I'll bring the core technology with me."

Robert Schmidt's company is on the verge of bankruptcy. He decides to get a divorce from me in order to not drag me down. I refuse to divorce him. Since then, I work during daytime and take on part-time jobs at night just so I can help Robert tide over the financial crisis. Heck, I even work eight jobs per day. But when I head over to Robert's company to seek him out with the money that I've painstakingly gathered, I accidentally overhear his conversation with his assistant, Ellie Gordon. "Robert, when are you going to divorce that hag? I can't wait any longer!" "I didn't know she'd be this hard to shake off! I already lied to her about my bankruptcy, and yet she still refused to divorce me!" Only then do I find out that Robert isn't bankrupt at all. He's just pretending to be bankrupt so that he can divorce me and give Ellie a proper title by his side. I end up dying from an aneurysm that gets triggered from my overwhelming fury. After my death, Robert has the gall to use the money I've worked so hard in earning on buying Ellie jewelry and a house. Later on, they have a whirlwind marriage and live happily ever after. As for me, I don't even get laid to rest in a proper graveyard. My corpse is left rotting somewhere unknown. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Robert pretends to be bankrupt. This time, I sign the divorce agreement without hesitation. On top of that, I also apply for a patent before reporting Robert's company for infringing my copyright on the products. Since he likes pretending to be bankrupt that much, I might as well make his wish come true!

At the wedding, Victoria Langley's childhood friend, Spencer Calloway, catches the wedding bouquet that she's just tossed. He arches a brow at her. "Does this mean I'll have to propose to someone? Well then, Vic, are you willing to elope with me?" Victoria's bridesmaids begin cheering on him. Amid their loud cheers and giggles, they push Victoria into Spencer's arms. "Give us a kiss!" "What's with that shy look, Spencer? Didn't you bury your face into Victoria's chest and hold her while sleeping on the same bed at the bachelorette's party last night?" Victoria giggles as she pinches one of the bridesmaids. "What's with the ruckus? My husband is still here, you know!" But the tips of her ears have secretly gone red. Spencer's lips curl into a wicked smile as he shrugs nonchalantly. "I'm fine with it. It's just that a certain someone's mooch of a husband will be pissed." Only then does Victoria turn to look at me. She pinches me on the chin gently while saying to me casually, "C'mon, it's just a joke. Don't be so petty." Then, she declares, "Let's continue the wedding." But I wave Victoria's hand away coolly before taking the microphone from the wedding host. "Spencer wants to crash this wedding, right? Well, I'm taking everything seriously now." Three days later, Victoria's eyes become red-rimmed as she stands outside the courthouse. As for me, I've never looked back ever since.

“I don’t know how,” I whispered. “Can you show me? Please, daddy.” He should have said no. Instead, he said, “Lie back and open those pretty legs. Let daddy take care of that for you.” When I shattered all over his fingers he looked at me like I was the most devastating thing he’d ever seen and said, “That’s my sweet girl.” Three days later he put me on a plane to London and didn’t look back. ----- She has spent three years across an ocean trying to unlearn her Stepfather; his voice, his hands, the way he said her name like it cost him something. She almost managed it. Then he called to say he was getting married again and he needed her home. Now she’s back in Boston, sleeping under his roof, watching him plan a future with someone else, and pretending she doesn’t still want him the way she did at nineteen. He is doing the same, pretending. Controlling. Building walls and calling it protection. But three years haven’t changed what’s between them. If anything, the distance made it worse. He sent her away once to save her from him. This time, she isn’t leaving. Some things are wrong in every way that matters, and still impossible to stop. WARNING: This book contains explicit erotic content and is meant for mature audiences. It explores desire, power, and complicated relationships without holding back. Please proceed only if you’re comfortable with that.

Lennon Shepard's first love, Jessie Sterling, has caused a medical malpractice incident due to an operational mishap. That night, Lennon cuts off the oxygen for Mabel Judson's mother to coerce her into taking the blame. At the moment, he's sitting across from Mabel with a confession placed between them. Once she signs it, she will never be able to pick up a scalpel in this country for the rest of her life.

I'm discovered by a man who's gone fishing early in the morning. I'm caught on his hook, but he can't pull me up, no matter how hard he tugs. He comes closer to see me floating in the water and is terrified. He runs off to call the police, leaving his fishing pole behind. When the police get me out of the water, I'm hanging on by a thread. Even the doctors who participate in my rescue think they can't save me. When they call my husband and tell him to come sign some forms, he tells me he doesn't have time for that. He's busy making a hot drink for his true love, who has a cold. Later, he bawls his eyes out and begs me to spare him another glance.

My brother Christopher owned a boutique on Fifth Avenue. I'd gone in, picked out a few pieces, grabbed a silk scarf on the way, and was heading for the door. The clerk behind the register stopped me. "Ma'am, we'll need you to settle this now." I looked up. Her name tag said Yvonne. Unfamiliar face. Probably new. I didn't think much of it. "Just put it on the owner's account," I said politely. "He knows who I am." She gave a little snort through her nose, eyes raking from my hair down to my shoes. "We don't run accounts here. You might have the wrong store." She pushed an itemized bill across the counter. Four hundred thousand dollars. I scanned the line items. Personal Style Consultation. Premium Fitting Service. VIP Client Private Service. Every single charge cost more than the clothes themselves. I let out a short laugh. "I'm a Whitfield. Christopher's my brother. Whatever this is, he can deal with it at home." Her smile got uglier. "Anyone can claim to be a Whitfield, sweetheart. Are you trying to skip out on the bill, or are you just trying to embarrass yourself?" I didn't bother arguing. I pulled out my phone and texted Christopher: [Fire the clerk named Yvonne in the next ten minutes, or I pull every dollar I have in this store.]