Chapter 1

I was the adopted son of the Smith family, a personal blood bank for Racquelle Smith, their eldest heiress. Her frail health and rare Rh-negative blood type necessitated finding a match—me. A contract bound me to her side, in exchange for funding my bedridden sister's treatment. This began when they adopted me at ten and ended on Racquelle's twentieth birthday. Racquelle despised me, convinced I sought to seize the family's wealth. For ten years, she humiliated and tortured me, calling me a dog. I endured it silently, feeling only revulsion. One month remained until my freedom.

Thirty minutes ago, Racquelle received a call: her first love, Vernon Cherr, had been in a car accident and needed an emergency blood transfusion. The hospital's blood supply was low, and in a panic, she dragged me from bed, demanding I donate blood. I explained that our Rh-negative blood wasn't universally compatible, but she ignored me. "Shut up! Rh-negative blood is precious; it has to work! It's mine; I can take it whenever I want!" She forced me into the car, speeding to the hospital. There, despite my protests and the doctor's explanations, they took the maximum 400 mL.

Seeing Vernon pale, she pleaded desperately for more. The doctor refused; their blood types were incompatible. Racquelle, panicked, insisted it had to work, clutching the doctor's hand. He explained they'd ordered more blood and assured her Vernon would be fine. Severely weakened from years of donating blood, exacerbated by chronic anemia, I collapsed. I heard the doctor's alarm and Racquelle's angry curses. She blamed me for Vernon's potential danger. I lost consciousness.

Upon regaining awareness, I smelled antiseptic. From the next room, I heard the doctor say Vernon was out of danger thanks to the emergency supply; my blood hadn't been needed. Before he could finish, Racquelle coldly ordered them to discard my blood. She was solely focused on Vernon. My bitter laugh echoed the emptiness of her callousness. I was merely a blood bank; my well-being was irrelevant.

I slowly got up for water. Racquelle entered, sneering. "Heh! Tough dog. Still standing after losing so much blood!" She then ordered me to get Vernon salmon congee from The Heritage by the docks—a three-hour round trip from the hospital. Unconcerned by my near-fatal blood loss, she sent me off to satisfy Vernon's appetite.