The Billionaire's Secret Blood Sacrifice Bride
Cora thought she was the luckiest woman alive, married to a devoted tech billionaire who showered her with custom haute couture and obsessive care.
But his "protection" involved locking her inside their San Francisco estate, forcing her to swallow foul neon-green supplements, and drawing her blood with highly classified veterinary needles.
She thought it was just his extreme paranoia, until a cynical doctor cornered her at a charity gala.
"Kendrick isn't raising a wife. He's curating a very rare, very fragile medical specimen. You're his personal pharmacy."
Terrified, Cora broke into Kendrick's hidden safe and found a medical report approving her total bone marrow and stem cell depletion.
Kendrick wasn't a doting husband. He was raising her as a human bloodbag to save his terminally ill cousin.
When she nearly uncovered the truth, Kendrick cried fake tears, claiming he only needed her antibodies.
"Tomorrow, we are going to my private island in the Caribbean. Just the two of us. No internet. No guards. Just peace."
Cora almost believed his vulnerable act, deeply confused by how a man who kissed her so tenderly could plan to slaughter her in cold blood.
Then, while packing for the trip, she dropped a wooden box, revealing a hidden flight manifesto.
Kendrick's return date was listed. Hers was completely blank.
Stapled to the back was a clinical schedule: Intensive Marrow Harvesting - Final Stage. Patient will not require return transport.
Hearing his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway, Cora gripped the sharp edges of the broken box.
She was not going to be a slaughtered lamb on that island.
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Chapter 7
The next morning, Kendrick kissed Cora's forehead, grabbed his briefcase, and walked out the door. He announced he was flying to Europe for a three-day merger negotiation.
The moment the motorcade cleared the front gates, Cora sprang into action. She found the butler in the kitchen.
"I'm doing yoga in the master bedroom," she said coldly. "Do not disturb me under any circumstances."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked upstairs. She kicked off her shoes and walked silently barefoot down the hall, slipping into Kendrick's private study.
The room was suffocating. Dark mahogany furniture and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves made the space feel like a tomb.
Cora needed her passport and her ID. If she was going to run, she needed her documents.
She tore through the drawers of his massive desk. Nothing. Just corporate contracts and financial reports.
She turned around and spotted it. Hidden behind a row of leather-bound books was a flush-mounted German high-frequency electronic safe.
Cora knelt in front of it. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She punched in Kendrick's birthday.
BEEP. ERROR.
She bit her lip and typed in their wedding anniversary. The red light flashed again.
BEEP. ERROR. ONE ATTEMPT REMAINING. SYSTEM LOCKDOWN IMMINENT.
Cora wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. If the alarm triggered, the guards would be in the room in seconds.
She closed her eyes in despair. Then, she remembered the black business card Cayden had slipped into her dress.
She pulled it out of her pocket. She flipped it over. In the top right corner, barely visible under the light, was a six-digit number written in UV ink.
With trembling fingers, she punched the numbers into the keypad.
CLICK.
The heavy steel door popped open.
Cora let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She reached inside. There were no passports. There was only a thick manila envelope stamped with the logo of a top-tier private hospital in Palo Alto.
She ripped the seal open and pulled out a stack of medical documents.
There was no patient name on the file. But at the top of the page was the exact same hematology research code she had seen on the needle wrapper.
Cora's eyes scanned the dense medical jargon. Her gaze slammed into a bolded sentence at the bottom of the page:
EXTENSIVE BONE MARROW AND RARE ANTIBODY EXTRACTION FEASIBILITY: EXTREMELY HIGH. TOTAL HEMATOPOIETIC STEM CELL DEPLETION PROTOCOL APPROVED.
A bucket of ice water poured over her head. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the hard wood floor.
She kept reading. It detailed the surgical extraction plan and the post-operative immunosuppressant schedule.
Her mind scrambled to make sense of it. Kendrick was sick. Kendrick had some kind of catastrophic blood disease. That's why he was drawing her blood. That's why he was so obsessed with her health. He was going to drain her bone marrow and strip her of her stem cells to save his own life, a procedure so invasive it would leave her permanently crippled, if not dead.
A wave of profound grief and absolute terror hit her all at once. She slapped both hands over her mouth to muffle the sob tearing up her throat.
Heavy footsteps thudded in the hallway. The security captain was doing his rounds.
Cora snapped out of her shock. She frantically shoved the papers back into the envelope, threw it into the safe, and slammed the heavy metal door shut. It locked with a loud click.
She dove behind the thick velvet curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows just as the brass doorknob turned.
The security captain stepped into the study. His sharp eyes scanned the empty room.
Cora stood pressed against the glass, her hands clamped over her nose and mouth. She didn't dare breathe. Her heart was beating so violently she was sure he could hear it.
The captain tapped his earpiece. "Study is clear," he muttered. He stepped back out and locked the door behind him.
Cora slid down the wall, her back soaked in cold sweat. She stared at the locked safe. She had the proof, but she needed to know for sure. She had to get to that hospital.
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7.6
The heavy prison gates clanged shut, ending three years. I scanned the empty lot for Julian, my fiancé. Deserted.
Biting December wind my only welcome. Calls to Julian, father, mother: unanswered/disconnected.
Shivering, Julian's tracker showed an unfamiliar Long Island estate. A freezing cab left me penniless; I walked through the blizzard. Through a mansion window, I saw Julian, my stepsister Clara, a small boy—a perfect family. Julian, who hated children, doted on him, and Clara wore *my* engagement ring.
I overheard Julian's call: he, my father, conspired to frame me for Clara’s medical error, saving their company and future. My family hadn't just abandoned me; they plotted my destruction.
A delayed text from Julian popped up, lying about a "cross-border meeting," promising to pick me up tomorrow. Despair vanished, replaced by a cold, terrifying smile. Typing "Understood," I turned from their stolen life, walking into the blizzard, fueled by burning rage.
9.3
Chandler was the secret wife of Avery Osborn, a powerful media heir who kept their marriage hidden to avoid the scandal of her illegitimate birth.
After catching him openly flirting with a rival at a gala, Avery mocked her low status and told her she was nothing without his money.
Instead of crying, Chandler immediately signed a zero-payout divorce agreement, left her wedding ring on his glass table, and walked out.
To numb the pain of her shattered life, she went to a notorious underground club.
Drugged by a bartender, she lost her mind and ended up having a wild night with a handsome stranger she mistook for a high-end male escort.
Panicking the next morning, Chandler transferred her entire life savings of $50,000 to the man to buy his silence, then fled to her corporate job.
But at the afternoon executive meeting, her blood ran cold.
The man she had paid off was standing at the head of the boardroom table. He wasn't a gigolo. He was Brennan George, the ruthless new COO of her company.
Cornering her in the women's restroom, Brennan held up a printed copy of her $50,000 wire transfer.
"Wiring a massive sum of cash to your direct superior after a night together is classified as commercial bribery and solicitation," he whispered dangerously.
Chandler was terrified, realizing she had handed him the exact evidence needed to destroy her career and sue her into bankruptcy.
"Marry me," Brennan demanded coldly. "It's the only way to make this HR problem disappear."
9.1
Elise thought her life was finally falling into place. She turned down her father's company to work as executive assistant to Marcus Grey-the boy she's loved since childhood, now the powerful CEO she's devoted her life to.
But when Marcus proposes to another woman, Elise's world crumbles. Enter Sebastian Deluca-Marcus's tattooed, ruthless, long-estranged brother. He's everything Marcus isn't: dangerous, magnetic, and determined to take back his place in New York.
But, there's something odd about him.
Something changed since he arrived.
Bound by family secrets and a mutual desire to expose Marcus's fiancée, Elise and Sebastian form an uneasy alliance. But as sparks ignite between them, Elise must choose: remain loyal to the boy she thought she loved, or risk everything for the man who sees her as more than a shadow.
Some loves are safe. Others are consuming. Which one will she survive?
7.4
Evelina Barrett was the legitimate daughter, yet she was framed for a disgusting sex scandal, expelled from the Ivy League, and locked out of her late mother's massive trust fund.
While she was thrown out to rot on the streets with a jagged, hideous red scar covering half her face, her father and step-family were throwing a lavish charity gala to celebrate her total ruin.
They laughed as they officially published her disownment notice in the Times to cut her off forever.
"Without the school halo, that ugly freak will be begging on the streets by tomorrow," her sister Aspen sneered.
Her stepmother Annabella toasted to taking out the trash, perfectly happy to steal Evelina's inheritance while ignoring the fact that Evelina knew exactly how they had murdered her mother.
For years, Evelina had been locked in a dark basement, abused by bodyguards, and treated worse than a stray dog.
Why should she, the true heir, suffer in the gutter while the leeches who destroyed her life enjoyed the wealth that rightfully belonged to her?
She refused to be their victim anymore.
Washing away her fake scar to reveal her true, breathtaking face, Evelina blackmailed New York's most lethal billionaire into marriage to secure the ultimate shield.
Then, she put on a black mourning dress, ordered a dark web ghost crew, and climbed into a heavy semi-truck.
At exactly 6:00 PM, she smashed through the iron gates of her family's elegant gala, delivering three pure black coffins directly to the lawn.
9.7
I was a top cardiac surgeon, trapped in a dead marriage with a ruthless billionaire.
One afternoon, he brought his mistress to my hospital, ordering me to perform her high-risk heart surgery.
When I refused and handed him our divorce papers, he violently tore them up and threatened to erase my name from the medical community.
Worse, I discovered they had a five-year-old surrogate son—bought and born the exact same year I bled out on an operating table, losing our baby.
The mistress mocked my trauma, calling me a barren piece of trash who couldn't give him an heir.
I slapped her across the face.
The next morning, the NYPD publicly handcuffed me in my own hospital.
She had framed me for attempted murder, claiming I injected her IV with a lethal dose of potassium.
My husband cornered me in the interrogation room.
"Just confess to me. I will throw enough money at the DA to make this entirely disappear."
I looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing but raw, unfiltered suspicion.
He actually believed I was a jealous murderer.
I swore I would rather rot in a concrete cell for the rest of my life than bow down to them.
Just as my childhood savior miraculously appeared to bail me out, my phone rang.
The mistress had gone into full cardiac arrest.
Only I had the surgical skill to save her.
I turned around, deciding whether to let the woman who ruined my life die, or pick up my scalpel.
9.4
I was the Thornton Pack's brilliant but "wolfless" assistant, a defect they treated like a charity case.
After years of letting the Alpha, Caleb, control me to prove my worth, he publicly humiliated and discarded me for a pure-blooded pack princess.
Heartbroken and drunk at a bar, I accidentally bit and marked a terrifying stranger who saved me from two creeps.
I woke up to find out I had drunkenly claimed Damien Blackwood—a ruthless billionaire and the apex Lycan King of the werewolf world.
To prevent a pack war over the claiming mark, Damien trapped me in a two-year contract marriage, treating me like a convenient political tool.
Right after we signed the papers, I got a call from the police.
My little brother, Jamison, had been arrested for punching Caleb, who was bragging about ruining my dignity.
At the precinct, Caleb sneered at my misery, threatening to destroy my brother's future.
Seeing the fresh bite mark on my neck, Jamison exploded in handcuffs, screaming that Damien had blackmailed me into his bed to get him out of jail.
I begged Damien to step outside so I could explain this horrific misunderstanding, feeling like I had sold my soul to a cold-blooded predator.
But Damien ignored my pleas. He pulled me behind him, his suffocating Lycan aura crushing everyone in the room.
"Yes, she was with me last night, because she is my wife."
Before anyone could process the shock, his eyes darkened with a terrifying, unhinged possessiveness.
"And I didn't marry her to solve a problem. I married her because I've been in love with her for ten years."
I stared at his broad back, my blood running cold as I realized I had no idea what kind of monster I had just bound my life to.