Chapter 3

Logan blinked for two seconds, and then he smiled.

It was that gentle, patronizing smile he always used when he was placating me.

"Chloe, have you been under too much stress lately?"

"What experiment? Clara has terminal leukemia. A bone marrow match and harvest is a standard medical procedure. How could your mind even go there?"

"Have you been reading crazy conspiracy theories online again?"

Watching him act felt absurd, sickening, and alien.

"I went through your phone."

His smile twitched.

"Clara's contact is saved as 'Thesis Advisor.' Your chat logs literally say, *'The previous specimen didn't survive.'*"

"Tell me, Logan. Who was the previous specimen?"

Logan’s face finally cracked.

It wasn't panic. It was the naked fury of being exposed.

He slammed his palm down onto the vanity.

"You snooped through my phone?! What right do you have to violate my privacy?!"

I didn't flinch.

"Taking me for matching without my informed consent is a federal crime. Go ask any defense lawyer."

His jaw twitched, and suddenly his voice dropped back down into a fake softness.

"Why are you making a mountain out of a molehill? It's just a bone marrow extraction. It's not going to kill you."

"Clara is on her deathbed, and you're here throwing a selfish tantrum over this?"

I was done wasting words.

All my critical IDs were packed. I zipped the bag, picked it up, and moved toward the door.

Logan lunged forward, violently snatching the bag from my hands.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

He ignored me, dumping the contents of my bag onto the hardwood floor.

Lipstick, keys, wallet.

And then, a crisp, folded official document slid out, landing face-up on the floor.

The marriage certificate.

Logan crouched down, picked it up, and flipped it open.

His eyes locked onto our names and the certified seal for three agonizing seconds.

"What is this?"

He snapped his head up, his glare sharp as glass.

"Where did you get this fake prop to mess with me?"

"It's real. We filed it at City Hall this morning."

His pupils dilated instantly.

The next second, he ripped the marriage certificate in half and hurled the pieces into my face.

"You shameless bitch!"

"You went behind my back and married another man?!"

"Clara is waiting for a life-saving transplant, and you run off to sleep with someone else?!"

"You cold-blooded sociopath!"

I knelt down, picked up the torn halves of the certificate, and shoved them into my coat pocket.

Whatever venom he spat didn't register. I only cared about those two halves of paper.

Tearing it meant nothing. I could always order a duplicate certified copy.

Logan snatched my phone, then ripped my state ID straight out of my hand.

"Give it back!"

"You're not going anywhere!"

He shoved me hard into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.

*Click.*

I rattled the doorknob. He had locked it from the outside.

"Logan! This is false imprisonment!"

Silence from the other side.

A few seconds later, his muffled voice came through the wood, that nauseatingly gentle tone back in full force.

"Chloe, stop throwing a fit."

"The procedure is tomorrow. Cooperate like a good girl, and once it's done, I'll let you go."

"Cool off in there. Let me know when you've come to your senses."

His footsteps faded down the hallway.

I pressed my back against the locked door, clutching the ripped certificate in my pocket, my palms dripping with cold sweat.