His Jilted Wife Is Coming for Everything👉
Rhea's POV I scroll through the messages, my knuckles going white as I grip the phone. *Chloe's in the hospital. She needs a blood transfusion. Come to Oakhaven General. Now! Where are you? You are fifteen minutes late.* *If you are unhappy about the price, it's been upped to one hundred thousand dollars. Check your bank account.* *Rhea Larsen, I expect your presence at the hospital within the next twenty minutes. A deal's a deal.* A sneer twists my lips. These don't read like texts from a husband—they sound like commands barked at some lowly employee. That pretty much captures my marriage to Julian perfectly. I'm the servant, he's the master. When Julian Thorne issues orders, he expects immediate compliance. No questions, no delays. The small detail that I've already donated blood multiple times in recent weeks? That's apparently too insignificant for him to remember. Or give a damn about. "Suck it up. A deal's a deal." I can practically hear his voice, cold and dismissive, as if he's standing right here looking down that perfect nose at me. I shiver and rub my arms, fighting off another wave of dizziness. The nausea hits next, followed by cold sweats—all lovely side effects of giving too much blood too fast. I tug at my wide sleeves, making sure they cover the ugly bruises dotting my inner arms where they've jabbed that massive needle over and over. Not that Julian would notice the marks anyway. He's never laid a finger on me when we're in the same space. When he's not busy building his empire, he's glued to Chloe Abbott's side. Everyone speculates about what exactly they are to each other, but I've never had the guts to ask Julian directly. I'm just the wife, after all. And a fake one at that. We sleep in different rooms, exchange polite nods when we bump into each other, and can go days without speaking. The only time he bothers contacting me is when Chloe needs something. I happen to have the same freakishly rare blood type as Julian's supposed mistress—AB nega
