Chapter 1

I was the adopted son of the Smith family, but in reality, I was just a personal blood bank for Racquelle Smith, the eldest heiress of the Smith family. Due to her weak health and rare Rh-negative blood type, the Smiths found me—someone with the same blood type—and signed a contract, binding me to stay by her side. In exchange, they would fund the treatment of my bedridden sister until she fully recovered. The contract began when they adopted me at age ten and would end on Racquelle's 20th birthday. But Racquelle despised me, convinced I was there to seize the Smith family's wealth and get close to her for my gain. For ten years, she had humiliated and tortured me, calling me a lowly dog. Though I quietly endured it, I felt nothing but revulsion for her. I only needed to last one more month until her 20th birthday, after which I would be free. ... 30 minutes ago, Racquelle received a call from the hospital—Vernon Cherr, her first love and senior, had been in a car accident and needed an emergency blood transfusion. The hospital's blood bank was running low, and she, frantic with worry, dragged me out of bed and demanded I donate blood for him. Stunned, I shook my head. "Racquelle, you're forgetting—our blood type is Rh-negative. We can't donate it to people with a different type." Her anger flared, and she pointed her finger at me. "Shut up! Rh-negative blood type is precious. How can it not work? Even if it doesn't, your blood belongs to me. I can take it whenever I want!" She yanked me into the car, pressed the gas pedal to the floor, and ignored red lights to the hospital. Once there, she forced me into the blood donation room, ignoring my protests and the doctor's attempts to explain. They took 400 mL of my blood. 400 mL was the maximum allowed in a single donation. However, when Racquelle saw Vernon lying on the hospital bed, his face pale as death, she snapped. Red-eyed and desperate, she pleaded with the doctor, "Please, just take more blood. Please, you have to save him. You can't let anything happen to him!" She clamped onto my arm, fearing I would run away. The doctor shook his head in resignation. "I'm sorry, Ms. Smith, but I've already explained—Mr. Smith's blood type isn't compatible with the patient's. He can't donate." "What do you mean, it's not compatible?" Racquelle's voice rose in panic as she clutched the doctor's hand tightly. "Rh-negative blood type is rare and precious! It has to be able to save Vernon!" The doctor sighed, knowing any further explanation would be futile. "We've already ordered emergency blood supplies. Mr. Cherr should be fine. Please try to calm down, Ms. Smith." After donating so much blood, my chest felt tight and heavy. I could hardly breathe, and my face was growing pale. As Racquelle's personal blood bank, I had donated so much over the years that my body's supply barely kept up. Chronic anemia plagued me now. Every time I passed out from blood loss, she would just glare at me in disgust, accusing me of faking weakness to gain her sympathy. At last, my body couldn't handle it, and I collapsed to the ground as darkness claimed my vision. I heard the doctor's alarmed shouts mixed with Racquelle's angry curses. "Joshua, I'm just asking for a little blood for Vernon! Do you have to be so dramatic? I'm warning you, if he's in danger because you didn't give enough, I'll make you pay!" Her scolding filled my ears as I lay helpless. I was too weak to move until I finally lost consciousness. I didn't know how long I was out, but when I groggily opened my eyes, the antiseptic smell of the hospital filled my nose. From the adjacent room, I could hear the doctor's voice. "Ms. Smith, thanks to the hospital's blood supply, Mr. Cherr is now out of danger. The blood we drew from Mr. Smith wasn't needed after all, but due to excessive blood loss, he has—" Before the doctor could finish, Racquelle coldly interrupted, "You can just discard his blood then. There's no point in giving it back to him, is there?" Her mind was solely focused on Vernon, anxious about any potential threat to his health. I listened silently to Racquelle's callousness and let out a bitter laugh. In her eyes, I was nothing but a personal blood bank. She wouldn't care even if my blood wasn't needed or whether I was drained dry. I dragged myself up slowly and went to pour myself a glass of water. She stepped into the room at that moment, sneering as she saw me. "Heh! What a tough dog. You're still standing even after losing so much blood!" She sized me up and commanded me. "Vernon wants some salmon congee. Get some from The Heritage by the docks. Got it?" The dock was a three-hour round trip from Pinevale Hospital. Racquelle, entirely unconcerned that I had just fainted from blood loss, ordered me off on an errand—just to satisfy her precious Vernon's appetite.