Chapter 1
695words
"…so I crunched the numbers, Emma. If we dump these three months' bonuses into that high-yield account," Liam sketched excitedly on a napkin—his usual habit—"plus your 'art scholarship,' we'll have enough for a down payment by spring. Latest."
Emma's gut clenched.
"A yard," Liam's eyes lit up, completely missing her tension, "we can finally get that golden retriever. That's what you've always wanted, right? A real home, Emma."
Liam was a good man. For three years, he'd been the only "normal" thing in her chaotic life. Steady. Reliable. With their next thirty years already mapped out in his planner.
And Emma was suffocating under the weight of all that "normalcy."
Her phone buzzed beneath the table, the screen flashing briefly.
A payment reminder from "St. Jude Hospital Experimental Treatment Center."
[ Account 3309-Vance, Leo. Current payment $12,500 overdue. Treatment will be DISCONTINUED if not paid in full within 72 hours.]
Emma's breath caught in her throat.
"What's wrong?" Liam finally glanced up, frowning. "You look… wrecked. Is that late shift at the coffee shop killing you? I told you to quit and focus on your graduation project and our…"
"I'm fine." Emma shoved her phone back into her pocket, nails biting into her palm.
How could she even start? How could she tell this man—who used coupons for coffee—that keeping her brother Leo alive cost forty thousand dollars a month? How could she admit her "art scholarship" was actually three part-time jobs and crushing student loans?
How could she tell him she was drowning in medical debt?
Liam would crumble. He'd pull out his "rational" spreadsheets and arrive at the only "logical" conclusion: abandon Leo's experimental treatment for palliative care.
Emma would rather die first.
"I just… have a killer headache." She forced a smile. "Can we… talk about the house another time?"
Liam's expression hardened. This wasn't in his script. "Emma, we've been saying 'another time' for three months now. This is our future—you need to take it seriously."
"I am serious," her voice cracked.
"Then why do you keep dodging the conversation?"
Because your perfect future doesn't have room for my dying brother.
She didn't say it. Instead, she stood up. "Sorry, Liam. Bathroom break."
She stood before the mirror for five full minutes, splashing cold water on her face. A ghost stared back—pale skin, dark circles, hollow eyes. She was hanging by a thread.
Back in her apartment—if a single room with temperamental heating deserved that name—Emma tossed her backpack aside and crashed onto the bed.
Twelve thousand five hundred dollars. Seventy-two hours.
She opened her laptop, the harsh blue glow illuminating her desperate face.
She started searching.
"Fast cash," "High-paying gigs," "Get paid today."
Nothing but scams, gambling sites, and worse.
With trembling fingers, she typed words she'd never dared before: "Non-traditional medical donation."
A flood of links appeared. She clicked through several until a sleek, minimalist site with a deep gray interface caught her attention.
[ Sanguine Solutions ]
No flashy ads, just a single line of elegant text: "Providing the highest quality Source of Life for a select clientele. We only accept the rarest donors."
Emma's heart hammered against her ribs.
She knew what this meant. Urban legends whispered about them—ancient, wealthy creatures lurking in the shadows beneath the city's glittering facade. Vampires.
This website was their broker.
Emma had dismissed it all as urban myth, the kind of stories traded in goth clubs over absinthe.
But when she clicked on "Donor Rewards," her breath hitched.
Based on blood type and "purity" ratings, compensation for a single donation (450ml) ranged from five thousand to twenty thousand dollars.
She needed money. Now.
Her eyes fixed on the "Pre-qualification" button. One click and there'd be no going back. She'd be saying goodbye to Liam's "normal" future—the yard, the golden retriever, the white picket fence.
Emma remembered Leo's wan smile during their last video call.
She took a deep breath and, with shaking fingers, clicked.
