Sir, She's Gone With Their Daughter And Never Returns

My four-year-old daughter was dying of leukemia, waiting desperately for a bone marrow transplant. I begged my billionaire husband to just call the registry or visit her, but he claimed he was too busy with board meetings to care. Until the hospital informed me that my daughter's life-saving bone marrow had been suddenly reallocated to another patient. When I walked down the VIP hallway, I found my husband. He wasn't at a board meeting. He was gently peeling an apple, playing the loving father to his widowed mistress's daughter. When my pale, sick daughter called out for him, he instinctively stepped back in disgust. I later discovered the mistress had bribed the hospital to swap the registry numbers, stealing my daughter's marrow for her own child. When I demanded a divorce, my husband laughed in my face. "You haven't worked a day in four years. You're a purchased asset. You don't get to walk away." He threatened to freeze my accounts, assuming I would be starving on the streets and begging to come back. His family and the mistress publicly mocked my background, waiting for me to be utterly humiliated. They thought I was just a useless, penniless housewife who relied entirely on his last name to survive. They didn't know I never needed a single cent of his money. I packed my bags, took my daughter, and made a single phone call. Three days later, at his family's elite banquet, my husband waited to see me beg. Instead, the most powerful corporate magnate in North America walked right past him, bowed to me at a perfect ninety-degree angle, and spoke. "Welcome back to the throne, Madam."

Billionaires Cold love Divorce Arrogant Drama Hidden Identities Billionaire

Download the Book on the App

"Blood type O positive. Donor number XZ-09-2024."

The Master of the Vitalis House tapped a finger in his right temple as the butler servant recited.

Sitting in his throne-like chair fronting the grand hall never had been this painful. Parched, very hungry, and almost at his limit, he waited for his servant to finish. The wine flute that contained the delicious crimson liquid was just within his reach.

Just. Within. His. Reach.

Yet he didn't move a muscle and just waited for the servant to hand it to him.

"Milord, this is the blood that you have been waiting for, " the butler noted, lifting the silver tray nearer.

Amidst seeing nothing other than entire darkness in his front, a small smile grew on his lips.

"At last, " came his reply and with ease, he straightened in his seat and managed to take out the flute from the tray without tumbling it down.

The cold contact of the glass against his warm fingers was a great welcome. It reminded him of the feeling he had in a similar wintry season last year when he held the same container with the same blood flowing with life.

As much as he wanted to drink such precious liquid every day, he couldn't as the supposed donor opt a yearly donation only, in a blood bank where his butler gets to purchase it. He doesn't even know whether the donor, who stayed in the opposite side of the world, was a male or a female, but as if that mattered to him.

He smelt it first, tipping the rim of the glass close to his nostrils and instantaneously caught the faint smell of the jasmine leaves mixed inside.

Ahh, what an aroma, his mind confessed and right then and there, ghosted another smile.

He, of all the living and nonliving beings under his wing, was the only one who preferred to have his meal like this - in a wine flute and mixed with jasmine leaves. Atypical for a dark creature like him, yes, but this was the only leisure that he ever preferred since he disliked feeding directly from the humans.

"As indicated in the Red Cross database, the donor decided for two bags this time so you have two days' supply of the blood Milord, " informed the butler as he watched his Master sip leisurely. One hand was now on the forehead of a fully grown black panther, making doodles while the big cat purred and nudged its cheek against the armrest.

"Good to know, Jerome, " the Master stated with a small nod; his voice in equal parts soporific and velvety. "At least I have two days before my fasting begins again."

"Right, and I believe you are doing that on purpose?" came out a male voice behind the throne. Immediately, the panther stood on guard, hissing and growling as it locked its feline eyes on the trespasser.

To give some privacy, the butler dismissed himself, walking out of the dais into a closed door where it led to a huge kitchen.

Read Now