When the Blood Ran Cold

My mother-in-law treated me like her own daughter. We were out shopping together when a truck barreled into us. In that split second, she threw herself over me and took the brunt of the impact. The trauma team had already started emergency transfusions, but they urgently needed blood matched to her rare antibodies. I called my husband ninety-nine times, begging him to stop interfering with the shipment. For more than two hours, doctors kept coming out to tell me they were running out of time. He never came. When the red light above the operating room finally switched off, my heart froze. Then I turned and saw Julian with his arm around his childhood sweetheart, Cheryl. A blood bank courier stood beside them with a sealed cooler. The last two matched units had been reserved for Cheryl. I rushed toward him. "Tell them to send that blood to the OR! Mom is dying!" Julian shoved me away violently, shielding Cheryl behind him. "Cheryl has surgery tomorrow! Her leg cannot be put at risk!" "Your mother has always been resilient. She can hold on a little longer. Cheryl's dancing career can't be delayed!" I crashed onto the cold floor. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my lower abdomen, accompanied by a wave of sickening grief. I looked at Cheryl. The cut on her leg was barely an inch long—already half-scabbed over. A bitter laugh escaped me. He actually thought the woman dying inside was my mother. In his eyes, my mother's life was completely worthless. I wondered if he would still stand there so arrogantly once he found out it was his own mother he had just condemned to death. I thought of how my mother-in-law had always looked after me. I glared at him. I gritted my teeth. "That's our mother in there! She's bleeding internally. She doesn't have another minute!" Julian looked down at me, his eyes colder than ice. "Cheryl is a dancer. Her body is fragile, and she can't afford a single mistake." "Stop weaponizing your mother to guilt-trip me. Who are you playing dead for?" "A human life is slipping away! She can't wait!" I gasped, clutching my stomach. When I looked down, my hands were slick with bright red blood. "Haven't you made enough of a scene?" Julian frowned, his expression dripping with disgust. He glanced at the blood covering my fingers and took half a step back. "Just to compete for my attention, you'd stoop so low as to curse your own mother to death?" Cheryl leaned against his chest and coughed weakly. The smug triumph in her eyes was barely concealed, though her voice sounded sickeningly sweet and fragile. "Julian, please don't blame Chloe. It's my fault for getting scratched at a time like this." "Chloe just cares about you too much. That's why she's using her mother's life to scare us." Julian wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, glaring at me with contempt. "Chloe, look at Cheryl, then look at yourself. Look what a disgrace you've become." "Your mother is fighting for her life in there, and you're out here throwing a tantrum. Do you have any decency left?" I sat on the freezing tiles, staring up at him. Cramps tore through my abdomen in vicious waves. Something precious was draining out of my body, slipping away forever. I raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the darkened sign above the operating room doors. "Julian, it's too late. She's gone." "You killed her." Julian's gaze followed my finger. A surgeon in scrubs stepped out of the OR. His face told me everything before he spoke. Julian didn't move an inch toward him. "You even conspired with a doctor to put on this pathetic act? How vile can you be?" "Exactly," Cheryl chimed in from the safety of his embrace, her tone accusatory. "It was just a minor fender-bender. How could it possibly be as severe as you claim?" "You want to talk about emergencies? Look at these," Julian said. He pulled two reports from his jacket and tossed them at me. One was a forged pre-op report claiming Cheryl needed those same two units on standby. The blood center had already flagged the trauma team's emergency request, but Julian, who chaired the hospital foundation, had pressured the dispatcher to keep Cheryl's reservation in place. The other was a supposed discharge summary for Eleanor Vance. It said my mother-in-law had been treated for minor injuries and sent home. Cheryl had doctored both reports. Julian had seen Eleanor's name on that second page and never thought to ask who was in the OR. With a cold sneer, Julian turned to support Cheryl. "Cheryl, let's go. Ignore her." "Cheryl, we're going upstairs. They can keep the blood ready for tomorrow." Cheryl looked back over her shoulder at me, her eyes gleaming with undisguised malice and victory. The surgeon spoke to the courier, and the blood bank put the units on hold while it checked the paperwork. By then, it was too late for Mom. The corridor fell deathly silent, leaving me alone on the floor. The surgeon walked over to me and let out a heavy sigh. "Is anyone from Mrs. Vance's family here?" "Gone," I whispered. "We have to notify the medical examiner because of the crash," the surgeon said. "Once she's cleared for release, the funeral home will need authorization from her next of kin." I braced myself against the wall and slowly dragged myself up. Blood ran down the inside of my calves, pooling onto the floor into a horrifying crimson puddle. "I'll leave my number. I can make the arrangements." The pen slipped in my hand as I wrote down my name and number. The doctor caught sight of the hem of my dress, his face draining of color. "Mrs. Vance, you're hemorrhaging!" I looked down at the blood, my voice eerily calm. "I'm pregnant. Twelve weeks." The doctor shouted down the hall, "Get a gurney! We need the obstetrics team, now!" They lifted me onto the cart. The fluorescent ceiling lights rushed past above me, one after another. I didn't close my eyes. Just three hours ago, my mother-in-law had been simmering chicken soup for me in the kitchen. She had smiled and said, Chloe, sweetheart, you're carrying twins. You need to nourish yourself. She had also said, If that stubborn boy of mine ever dares mistreat you, I'll set him straight myself. Now, she was lying in the morgue. And I was being wheeled into an operating room. "Fetal heartbeats are too weak. Cervix is dilated." "Prep for an emergency D&C." When the cold instruments entered my body, I refused anesthesia. I wanted to feel every ounce of this agony. Every single stab. I wanted to etch it into my bones. The procedure lasted an hour. When the doctor finished, he set a surgical tray aside. Inside were two small clusters of bloody tissue. "Mrs. Vance, I'm so sorry. We couldn't save the babies." I stared at the tray. Not a single tear fell. My tears had run dry when I saw Julian turn away while those two units were still on hold for Cheryl. The nurse wheeled me back to a standard ward. My phone buzzed. It was a photo from Cheryl. In the photo, Julian had his head bowed, gently peeling grapes for her. The caption read: Julian said he'll give me anything in the world as long as I smile. Chloe, I really envy you. You don't have to suffer being spoiled like a brat by him every day. I stared at the screen, then typed a reply. No need to envy. Then I added one more line: He's all yours. I turned off my phone, pulled the IV out of my hand, and tried to stand. Black spots danced before my eyes. The nurse hurried forward to stop me, but I braced one hand against the wall and dragged myself forward, step by agonizing step, toward the basement morgue. With every stride, it felt like a knife twisting through my lower abdomen. But I couldn't collapse. She was down there all by herself. I had to go get her. Three hours ago, she had slipped her heirloom imperial jade bracelet onto my wrist, telling me that once the babies were born, she would transfer half the family estate into my name to make sure no one could ever look down on me. She lay there in total silence under a white sheet. I pulled back the linen. Someone had wiped the blood from her face. Her eyes were closed. I could still hear the way she used to call me down to dinner. I took her cold, stiff hand in mine. "Mom, I'm here." "Don't worry. I will never let him get away with this." "I'll make him crawl on his knees before you to beg for your forgiveness."I called a funeral home and booked a pickup for the next morning, subject to the hospital clearing the transfer. I didn't call any of Julian's relatives myself. I gave the funeral director Julian's number for the release paperwork. His father had passed away years ago, and the rest of the relatives lived abroad. Before she died, his mother loved me dearly and had already signed all her company shares over to me. She had held my hand back then and told me, Chloe, this is your safety net, yours and the babies'. Now, my babies were gone. And so was she. The funeral director said she would stay in the hospital morgue until the release was signed. I stayed under observation until the doctor cleared me to go home that evening. In the cab, I watched traffic flow and neon signs flicker on behind the tinted window. In a single afternoon, I had lost the people who mattered most to me. Outside the window, the world went on as usual. By the time I returned to the villa, it was past eight in the evening. The house was pitch-black. I gripped the banister, climbed up to the second floor, and pushed open my mother-in-law's bedroom door. The faint scent of sandalwood still lingered in the air. On the nightstand sat two unfinished baby sweaters—one light blue, one soft pink—that she had been knitting for the twins. I picked them up and pressed them against my cheek. The wool was rough and stung against my skin. I slipped the jade bracelet off my wrist and put it in her jewelry box for safekeeping. My phone rang. It was Julian. I answered, keeping silent. "Chloe, where the hell are you?" His voice was instantly dripping with irritation. "Cheryl wants pastries from that bakery downtown. Go buy a box and bring it to her VIP suite at the hospital within thirty minutes." I stared down at the tiny sweaters in my hands. "No. If you want them, buy them yourself," I said coldly. Silence fell over the line for a few seconds before his voice erupted in fury. "Chloe! Don't push your luck! Cheryl was terrified by your little spectacle today. What's so hard about picking up some food to make amends?" "My mother is completely fine, so stop playing the martyr! Go buy them right now!" I hung up and blocked his number. I dragged out a suitcase and began packing. Clothes, books, and a few personal essentials. After living in this house for three years, everything that belonged to me fit into a single bag. Downstairs, the front door clicked open, followed by the sharp click of high heels against hardwood. "Chloe? Are you home?" It was Julian's executive assistant, Leah. She had always looked down on me, whispering behind my back that I only held the title of Mrs. Vance because the matriarch had my back. I carried my suitcase down the stairs. The moment Leah saw me, she rolled her eyes. "Mr. Vance sent me to pick up the perfume. Cheryl can't sleep at the hospital without that scent." Leah glanced upstairs. "You never wear it anyway. Cheryl would actually appreciate it." She turned and moved to push past me up the stairs. I stepped firmly into her path. "Get out." Leah froze, her lips curling into a sneer. "Chloe, do you really think you still have a say around here? Mr. Vance told me he's filing for divorce as soon as Cheryl is discharged." "If you have any sense, you'll stay out of Cheryl's way." She reached out to shove me aside. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. SMACK! The sharp crack echoed through the cavernous foyer. Leah stumbled back, clutching her cheek, completely stunned. "You hit me!" "I dare call the police and have you arrested for trespassing, too," I said, staring directly into her eyes. "Go back and tell Julian there is no perfume. And tell him his mother is dead. If he still has a shred of humanity left, he'd better get on his knees and beg her corpse for mercy." Leah's face twisted in disgust. "You've completely lost your mind! How dare you curse the old lady!" "Just you wait! Mr. Vance will destroy you for this!" She stormed out in her high heels, slamming the heavy front door so hard the glass rattled. Silence swallowed the villa once more. I left the suitcase by the entryway, walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a pair of heavy shears. Hanging prominently on the living room wall was our massive wedding portrait. In the photo, Julian's smile was detached and perfunctory, while I looked like an absolute fool, beaming with pure adoration. I stepped onto the sofa, raised the shears, and slashed right through his face. Ripping, tearing, over and over. The canvas shredded, strips of fabric falling to the floor like dead leaves. I walked through every corner of the house, throwing every mug, towel, and toothbrush I had ever touched straight into the trash. The cheap jewelry Julian had tossed at me over the years as afterthoughts? Flushed down the toilet. I wanted every single trace of my existence scrubbed from this place. By the time I finished, dawn was breaking. I sat on the sofa, looking at the wreckage around me. The doorbell rang. I stood up and opened the door. Cheryl stood on the porch. My fingers tightened around the handle.Cheryl was wearing a delicate white dress, draped in Julian's oversized designer coat. Her cheeks were rosy and glowing. There wasn't the slightest hint of blood loss on her face. I had barely slept since the procedure. I looked like a corpse next to her. "Morning, Chloe," she purred, stepping inside without an invitation. Her gaze swept over the messy living room. "Julian went to the office for an early board meeting. I just happened to be passing by, so I thought I'd check on you." She walked over to the sofa, glanced at the shredded wedding portrait on the floor, and clicked her tongue softly. "Oh my, what is all this? Even if you're jealous, you shouldn't take it out on a picture." I stared at her coldly. "Get out." Cheryl acted as if she hadn't heard a word. Instead, she turned on her heel and headed straight toward my mother-in-law's bedroom. "I heard the old lady has an imperial green jade bracelet. A family heirloom, right? Julian told me he'd give it to me eventually." She pushed the door open. I followed right behind her. Cheryl had already opened the jewelry box on the vanity. She picked up the translucent green jade bangle and slid it onto her wrist. "It really is stunning. Don't you think so, Chloe?" "Take it off," I said, my voice dropping dangerously. Cheryl pouted. "Don't be so petty. She was going to give it to me sooner or later anyway. What's the harm in trying it on?" "I said, take it off." Seeing me reach out to snatch it, Cheryl suddenly jerked her arm and let go. The heavy jade slipped from her fingers, striking the hardwood floor with a sharp crack, shattering into three pieces. For an instant she looked pleased. Then she screamed. "Ah! Chloe, you're hurting me!" She clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with dramatic horror. "How could you smash her bracelet on purpose? That's an heirloom!" I looked down at the broken jade. It was the thing my mother-in-law had cherished most in her life. I raised my arm and slapped Cheryl with everything I had left. The force knocked her sideways onto the bed, blood seeping from the corner of her split lip. "What right do you have to touch her things?" I lunged forward, grabbing a handful of her hair. "You carved a tiny scratch into your own leg just to steal life-saving blood and murder someone. Do you actually sleep at night?" Cheryl screamed, flailing hysterically. "Let go of me! Help! Julian, save me!" Julian burst through the front door and bounded up the stairs. The moment he saw the scene in the bedroom, his expression twisted into pure rage. "Chloe! Are you out of your mind?!" He shoved me with brutal force. My back slammed into the sharp edge of the nightstand. A sickening ache shot through my spine, tearing at my fresh surgical wounds. Warm blood began to trickle down my thighs again. Julian pulled Cheryl into his arms, checking her face frantically. "Cheryl, are you okay? Where does it hurt?" Cheryl buried her face in his chest, sobbing hysterically. "Julian, I only wanted to see your mother's bracelet. Chloe smashed it on the floor and came after me." Julian saw the shards of jade on the floor, then turned to glare at me, his eyes burning with fury. "You really are a venomous bitch, aren't you?" "Cursing my mother wasn't enough for you? Now you're laying hands on Cheryl? Did my mother spoil you so much that you actually forgot your place?!" I braced myself against the wall to stay upright. "Julian, are you blind?" "Do you really not know how that tiny scratch on her leg got there?" Julian let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Cheryl cut herself peeling an apple for me! And what about you? What are you good for besides throwing tantrums and destroying things?" "Apologize to Cheryl right now. Otherwise, we're getting a divorce today." I looked at him. This was the man I had loved for three years. He stood beside another woman, without even asking once if I was bleeding, if I was in pain. A wave of bitter nausea rose in my throat. "Fine," I said. Julian froze. "What did you say?" "I said, let's get divorced." I walked over to the desk, pulled open the drawer, and took out the divorce settlement papers. "I've already signed it." I threw the papers at his feet. "Julian Vance. Take your trash and get the hell out of my sight." Julian stared down at the documents, his jaw tightening dangerously. "What kind of pathetic game are you playing now, Chloe?" "Threatening me with divorce? You think I'm going to beg you to stay?" He grabbed Cheryl's hand and pulled her toward the door. "Let's go, Cheryl. Let's see how many days she lasts before crawling back." At the doorway, Julian paused without turning around. "Tomorrow morning, ten sharp. Meet me outside the courthouse. Let's see if you'll actually file." I gripped the edge of the desk, my voice steady as stone. "Don't worry. I'll be there."It was nine the next morning. I went to the city hospital first. I needed to check on the release paperwork for my mother-in-law and pick up the records from my emergency treatment after the miscarriage. The hospital corridors were packed with people, heavy with the suffocating smell of antiseptic. Wearing a long black trench coat and a mask, I had just reached the records department window when I heard Cheryl's voice. "Julian, this hospital's follow-up process is such a hassle. Can't we just go to a private clinic?" She clung to his arm, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. Julian looked down at her with a gentle smile. "Be good. Their imaging equipment here is the best. Once we're done, I'll take you to buy that designer bag you wanted." As they rounded the corner, they ran straight into me. The smile on Julian's face instantly vanished. He looked me up and down, his lips twisting into a sneer. "Stalking me now, Chloe?" "What, you can't survive without me after all? Chasing me all the way to the hospital to corner me?" Cheryl shrank slightly behind his back. "Chloe, please stop clinging to Julian. Making a scene like this only embarrasses everyone." I ignored them entirely, stepping up to the counter. "Hi. I'm here to pick up the records from yesterday." The clerk checked her computer. "Chloe Vance, correct? Give me a moment." Julian stepped up behind me, letting out a sharp scoff. "What records? A psychiatric evaluation?" "Haven't you had enough of this tragic victim routine? Faking near-death yesterday, faking illness today. Do you honestly think I buy any of it?" I turned my head to look at him. "Julian, do you genuinely believe every woman in the world revolves around you?" "Who do you think you are?" Julian's face darkened, and he reached out aggressively to grab my wrist. "Say that again." Just then, the surgeon who had handled the emergency resuscitation yesterday walked past. He caught sight of Julian and stopped in his tracks. "Are you Mrs. Eleanor Vance's son?" Julian frowned. "I am. What about it?" The doctor let out an exhausted sigh. "We tried to reach you yesterday. The medical examiner has cleared your mother for release. The funeral director is here, and we need you to confirm her identity and sign the transfer authorization." Julian stood frozen, every drop of color slowly draining from his face. "What... what did you say?" His voice trembled violently. "What body? What morgue?" The doctor looked at him, his tone turning solemn and confused. "Mr. Vance, your mother suffered massive internal hemorrhaging from a car crash yesterday afternoon. Resuscitation efforts failed. She passed away. Didn't you know?" Julian whipped his head toward me, his eyes bloodshot and wide with panic. "Chloe, did you pay a doctor to go along with this?" "My mother was perfectly healthy! How could she be dead?!" The clerk slid a manila folder through the window. I took the folder. "They'll take you to see her downstairs." Without another word, I clutched the folder and walked toward the elevators. Julian sprinted past me, smashing the call button with hands that shook uncontrollably. Cheryl called after him, terrified, but he didn't even look back. A morgue attendant took Julian into the viewing room. He reached for the sheet as soon as the attendant drew it back. His mother lay there, her face devoid of any color, utterly still. His knees gave out, and he collapsed heavily onto the concrete floor. "Mom! Mom, wake up! It's Julian!" He grabbed her cold, stiff hands, sobbing so hard he choked on his own breath. "How can this be? You were fine yesterday morning. What happened?" Cheryl rushed down the stairs, but the moment she crossed the threshold and saw the corpse, she let out a shriek of terror, covering her eyes and stumbling backward. I walked over to the waste bin, opened the folder, pulled out several pages of duplicate records, tore them into shreds, and dropped them inside. Finally, I tossed in the blood-stained ultrasound report. Hearing the rustle of paper, Julian turned around. He saw the crumpled ultrasound report in the bin. The image showed two gestational sacs. He scrambled across the floor on his hands and knees, snatching the crumpled paper out of the trash. "Twelve weeks... dichorionic diamniotic twins..." As he read the words aloud, his voice completely broke. He looked up at me, his lips trembling. "Chloe, where are the babies?" I stood tall before him, looking down into his shattered face. "Take a wild guess. Why didn't they survive long enough to meet their father?" Julian's mouth hung open, but not a single sound came out. Clutching the ultrasound image to his chest, he looked back at the gurney where his mother lay cold and silent. A strangled, animalistic wail tore from his throat. He buried his face against the icy floor, curling his entire body into a tight, pathetic ball. I dropped my copy of the proposed divorce settlement in front of him. "Julian Vance. As far as I'm concerned, we're done."