Chapter 1

My company organized an annual health checkup, and my boyfriend went out of his way to drive me there.

Three days later, the hospital called, saying my bone marrow was a perfect match for a patient and urging me to be admitted for harvesting immediately.

My boyfriend blocked the bedroom door, claiming Clara was in the final stages of leukemia and I was her only match.

"Giving some bone marrow won't kill you. Just think of it as earning good karma."

I pretended to agree, and he took it for granted.

"That’s my girl. I always knew you were sensible."

Little did he know, the night before I planned to run, I overheard him on the phone with Clara.

"Relax, she won't get away. This time, we'll definitely get the most accurate trial data for your dissertation."

I quietly stepped back into my bedroom and texted my childhood best friend, who had just returned from overseas.

"Wanna go to City Hall and get married tomorrow? You dare?"

"Relax, she won't get away. This time, we'll definitely get the most accurate trial data for your dissertation."

Logan's voice drifted in from the balcony. Through the cracked glass door, every single syllable slammed violently into my ears.

Standing behind the bedroom door, every drop of blood in my body ran cold.

Trial data.

It was never about saving Clara’s life. They were using me as a lab rat.

I retreated to the edge of the bed and sat down. My fingers trembled uncontrollably, but my mind had never been clearer.

Tomorrow, I had to leave this monster.

When Logan pushed the door open, I was already lying down, facing away from him, keeping my breathing completely steady.

"Asleep yet?" he asked softly.

I didn't move.

The mattress sank as he climbed into bed, wrapping his arm around my waist like he always did.

I fought down the sickening urge to shove his hand away.

A few minutes later, his breathing slowed into a steady rhythm.

I waited an entire hour until I was certain he was dead asleep before slowly sitting up.

His phone was charging on the nightstand, his face turned the other way.

Holding my breath, I picked up his phone from beside his pillow.

Fingerprint lock. He had registered my thumbprint before, claiming it made it easier for me to reply to his work messages.

Back then, I thought it was trust. Now I realized it was pure control.

I opened SnapChat and searched for "Clara."

No such contact.

However, there was someone saved as "Thesis Advisor," with a lab photo as the avatar.

I tapped it, my thumb rapidly scrolling across the screen.

"Match results for Subject 03 are in. All parameters are optimal."

"The previous specimen suffered severe acute rejection and didn't survive. As long as we control the dosage this time, we should be fine."

"I'll handle Chloe. She won't suspect a thing."

The previous specimen.

Didn't survive.

I stared at those words for an eternity, my stomach violently churning.

Before me, someone had already died in this experiment.

I kept scrolling up and found a PDF document titled *Immunosuppressive In-Vivo Experimental Protocol*.

I opened it. It was crammed with dense testing procedures, drug dosages, and observation timelines.

The very last entry read: *Subject 03: Chloe Vance, 28 years old. Full match confirmed. Scheduled for procedure.*

I took screenshots of every single page, uploaded them to my cloud drive, wiped the browser history, and slipped the phone back into place.

Once it was done, I leaned against the headboard, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from my chest.

I pulled out my own phone, scrolled to the very bottom of my contacts, and found a name.

Julian Hayes.

I sent him a message.

"Wanna go to City Hall and get married tomorrow? You dare?"

After sending it, I stared fixatedly at the screen.

Three seconds later.

"Meet me at City Hall at nine tomorrow morning."

I pressed the phone against my chest and let out a long, shuddering breath.

I lay back down beside Logan, staring wide-eyed at the dark ceiling.

His breathing was slow and even; he was sleeping peacefully.

I listened to him sleep all night, never once closing my eyes.

As dawn cracked outside the window, my alarm went off.

I silenced it instantly and slid out from under the blanket without making a sound.

Logan rolled over, mumbling groggily, "Why up so early?"

"Early team meeting at the office."

"Oh. Drive safe."

He grunted, turned around, and drifted back to sleep.

I grabbed my purse and walked to the front door.

I glanced back one last time.

On the dining table sat an apple he had peeled for me yesterday, its edges browned from oxidation. The cuts were flawless, the plating immaculate.

For three years, he had done everything perfectly.

So perfectly that I almost believed he genuinely loved me.

I turned and walked out the door, never looking back.