She Drained Me for My Backup

My girlfriend had always been drawn to powerful men, yet she was perfectly content to keep a useless intern on her payroll. She said she loved me with her whole life. When a routine health screening showed that the intern and I shared a rare blood type, she chose to keep him close. She claimed it was just a precaution, a backup source of blood in case I ever needed it. She cooked for him, took him on trips, made him gifts by hand, and fussed over him at every turn. She insisted it was all for my sake. To build good karma for my future. Then I was in a car accident. She arranged for blood to be brought in from over 60 miles away rather than let the intern donate a single drop. She said he had a cold and worried his blood might make me sick. The next day, the intern was diagnosed with uremic nephropathy. My girlfriend drugged me and had me wheeled into the operating room to donate a kidney before I could say a word. Her voice was gentle when she explained it afterward. "Daniel is our trump card. He has to stay healthy. He can only be used when your life is genuinely on the line, not wasted on every small setback. I had you donate the kidney for your own future, so you would stop overthinking everything. Once you are out of surgery, I am marrying you." What she did not know was that I already had mid-stage leukemia. The surgery accelerated its spread. I was dying, and I would never have the chance to marry her. Chapter 1 "Mr. Wilford, your blood cancer was already at a mid-stage. The kidney surgery has accelerated its spread. We're looking at ten days, at best. You need to keep your spirits up and…" The rest of the doctor's words faded into silence. I forced myself out of bed, crossed to the window, and lit a cigarette. The long-forgotten sharp, acrid taste hit me, and my eyes watered before I could stop them. Ever since my rare blood type came to light, my girlfriend, Winona Elstein, had kept me away from cigarettes and alcohol. She feared I would fall ill, that there would be no compatible donor when I needed one, and that I would die and leave her to grow old alone. I had not minded the rules. I quit both without much resistance. Now, at the end of my life, none of that mattered. Through the curl of smoke, I thought back to the car accident. The blood cancer diagnosis had followed soon after, and I had not found the right moment to tell Winona. Then she walked in with Daniel Lowe's test results in hand. He had uremic nephropathy, confirmed, and she asked me to donate a kidney. I refused on instinct. She did not press. Instead, she told me she had bought an apartment near the office so I would not have to commute anymore, no more accidents. She framed it as a gift. Only when they wheeled me into the operating room did I understand. What I had signed was not a property transfer agreement. It was an organ donation consent form. The doctor watched me smoke, shook his head, and quietly left the room. A second later, Winona's voice came from the doorway, warm with concern. "Doctor, how is Jordan doing?" The doctor looked uncomfortable. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. I turned from the window and said, "I'm fine." Winona's eyes curved into a smile. "I knew it. I take such good care of you. Even losing one kidney won't make a difference." She didn't mention the consent form or the lie. It was as if none of it had happened. The cigarette burned down to my fingertips. I flinched and pulled my hand back. Winona's brow furrowed. She turned and told the nurse to sweep up the ash. Then she reached into my jacket pocket, pulled out the rest of the pack, and dropped every cigarette into the trash. "I told you to stop smoking. Danny has rhinitis. The smoke bothers him," she said evenly. So the rule had never been about my health. It had always been about Daniel's sinuses. Behind her, Daniel came through the door, carrying a stack of items so tall it nearly hid his face. Winona rushed over to help him and spread everything across my hospital bed. Daniel looked at me and said, straight-faced, "Sorry, Jordan. I had no idea Winnie would trick you into donating. These are all gifts she gave me. Take whatever you want. Consider it my apology." I looked at the pile: a hand-knit scarf and matching sweater Winona had made, a watch worth 200,000 dollars, a car key for a car worth 2,000,000 dollars, and a villa deed, all offered as an apology. It felt more like a display. After all, Winona had never given me anything close to this. She always said we were past that stage, that our relationship did not need any fuss over gifts. Chapter 2 The old me would have squared up and gone toe to toe with him. Instead, I said quietly, "No thanks." Winona caught my hand. "Jordan, look how thoughtful Danny is. He considers you a friend. Don't embarrass him like this." Her voice was gentle, but her grip was firm. She could not stand the idea of Daniel feeling even slightly slighted. I gave in and pointed at the scarf. Last winter, Winona had knitted it until all ten of her fingers were raw and blistered. For once, I had assumed she was making me an anniversary gift. I had even saved up to buy a coat to match. Then I watched her wrap it around Daniel's neck with her own hands, and I realized I had been reading too much into things. Maybe it was the fact that I was dying, or the unfinished business weighing on my chest. Either way, as I looked at the scarf now, a sudden, almost desperate urge rose in me to take it, just to have it. Winona followed my gaze, and her expression changed. "No. That scarf is warm, and Danny runs cold. Besides, I made it myself. He would hate to part with it. Pick something else." "I want it," I insisted. Perhaps I needed to know. Some part of me still wanted proof that I meant something to her. Winona's face flushed. "Jordan, Danny is going to save your life one day. You donated a kidney to him. That makes you even. You never cared about material things before, so why are you suddenly trying to take something he loves?" I laughed. The sound came out hollow. She was not even trying to hide it anymore. A year ago, Daniel joined the company and went through the standard employee health screening. Winona discovered that his blood type matched mine. From that day on, she made him her project. At work, she promoted him, gave him raises, and credited him with results from my projects. He became the office favorite. At home, she cooked for him, did his laundry, and showed up whenever he called. Any time I pushed back, even slightly, she accused me of being petty. She told me Daniel was my future lifesaver, that I owed him my life, that I had a debt to repay. She piled one moral obligation on top of another until the weight became absurd. Through all of it, I kept telling myself she still cared about me. Now, standing here days from death, I could finally see her clearly. Everything that had kept me awake at night, every moment I could not reconcile, had never been what I wanted it to be. I had simply refused to face it. "I'm kidding," I said. "Why would I take something he loves?" I let out a short, dry laugh and dropped it—the scarf, the hope, all of it. Daniel immediately looked wounded. "It's fine, Jordan. I know you have money. I know my things aren't up to your standard. I get it. I'm just a blood bag. I should not have expected to be treated like a real friend." Winona's face filled with concern. "Don't say that, Danny. There's an auction today. I'll take you right now, and we'll find something better." She turned and told her bodyguard to collect everything from the bed, ensuring I could not quietly pocket anything on my way out. At the door, she stopped, as if something had just occurred to her. She came back, closed the window, draped my jacket over my shoulders, and spoke softly. "Jordan, I didn't invite you because I don't want you exhausting yourself. I love you most. You know that. Tell me what you want, and I will bid on it and bring it back as a wedding gift. Sounds good?" Then she left with Daniel. I stood at the window and looked down at the street. In the car below, Winona leaned across and buckled Daniel's seatbelt for him. Daniel said something and pointed at the passenger sun visor. It held our photo, mine and Winona's. A second later, it came out the window and landed on the pavement. The car pulled away. The rear tire rolled straight over it. That was her love. That was her heartache on my behalf. "Winona, I don't have long left. And I don't want to marry you anymore." I pulled the curtain closed and went to find the doctor to ask for discharge. "Mr. Wilford, under palliative care guidelines, I have no grounds to stop you. But without treatment, I'm afraid..." Chapter 3 I pulled my mouth into something that did not resemble a smile. "Doctor, my only request is that you write me a ten-day prescription for painkillers." I would not spend my last ten days in a hospital. Both of my parents had died in one, and I had never shaken the dread the place left behind. I had barely cleared the front entrance when Winona called. "Why did you check yourself out?" she asked. "I'm bored. I hate lying around," I replied. She started to argue. "That's not acceptable…" Then Daniel's voice cut in, close enough to her ear that he had to be standing beside her. "Winnie, this couple's ring is gorgeous…" "Then we'll go all in!" she told him, before speaking to me again. "Jordan, you're an adult. Take care of yourself." She tossed out a few hollow words and hung up without waiting for a response. I remembered how it used to be, before Daniel. A work dinner had landed me in the hospital with a stomach bleed. When the doctors told her my blood type was rare and that I needed to be careful, she had not slept for days. She had cried and begged me not to leave her After that, she barely let me out of her sight. A paper cut on my finger would be enough to send her into a panic. Now I had lost a kidney, yet she couldn't be bothered to stay on the line. I told myself I was over it. Still, something in my chest, a small, involuntary ache, had not gotten the message. I laughed at myself and blocked her number. The first thing I did that day was hire a cleaning crew. I had them clear every trace of me from the house, including the ceramic couple figurines I had painted by hand and the 20,000 photographs from seven years together. I burned everything, along with the villa key. On the second day, I hired a funeral service and arranged for the collection of my body. On the third day, I went from one party to the next with friends. At one of them, I lost a round of truth or dare and ended up toasting with a pretty woman, our arms linked, glasses touching. The friend beside me went pale. "If your girlfriend sees this, she'll kill me." I smiled easily in the noise and neon. "Doesn't matter. I don't care anymore." That night, Winona could not hold back. She sent me a photo taken in the dim light of the venue. The woman and I stood mid-toast, arms linked. Winona: [Jordan. Come home, get on your knees, and explain yourself.] … I went home on the fourth day, but not because she scared me. A package I had ordered had arrived. Maria, the housekeeper, opened the door. She pulled me aside and whispered, "Sir, please don't argue with her tonight. Just admit you were wrong and be done with it." I walked in to find Winona on the sofa, her arm around Daniel as he cried. He wore pajamas and clutched a dark navy burial suit in both hands. A matching couple's ring caught the light on his finger. I was still trying to make sense of it when he saw me and cried harder. "Jordan, I know you can't stand me. I know you don't want me living here. But you didn't have to curse me. You sent me a coffin suit." He had moved in while I was gone. I had no idea. Winona's brow tightened. "Jordan, I thought you were better than this. You walk out and do whatever you want, and I say nothing. All I did was ask Danny to stay so I could look after him. Was that really worth this?" I crossed the room without a word and took the coffin suit from Daniel's hands. "Who said it was for you?" I slipped it over my clothes and turned to check my reflection in the full-length mirror. It fit well. I used to be afraid of dying. I was afraid that if Winona left me, I would not survive it. Now, as I stood at the edge of it, I saw clearly that I had given myself far too much credit. Winona's face went rigid. She stood and reached for the buttons. "Jordan, have you lost your mind? Take that off. Right now." I stepped aside. Her expression hardened. "Stop running from the problem. Stand there and apologize to Danny properly." Before I could respond, she exhaled slowly and unclenched her hands. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out several documents. Chapter 4 Winona said, "You checked yourself out on a whim and went off to do whatever you pleased. Danny checked himself out because he was thinking about the company. He's been putting in extra days at the office. "He says he's grateful you donated a kidney and wants to take some of the burden off you. So let him take the deputy director position. It will make it easier for him to handle things on your behalf." So that was what this was about. She wanted me to hand Daniel my position. I let out a short laugh and sat down. "Fine. I don't care." I was dying. None of this was worth holding onto. I took the pen she offered. Each document had already been opened to the signature page. Habit made me check the cover and opening terms of each one first. The first was a termination agreement for my deputy director role. I signed without hesitation. Winona and Daniel exchanged a glance. Both looked surprised. The second was a property transfer agreement. The apartment was the first thing Winona and I had bought together, back when we scraped together our first real money. It was the only property in my name. She must have expected a fight, because she rushed to explain. "Danny's family needs somewhere to stay when they come to the city for medical appointments. The place is just sitting there anyway." They needed just somewhere to stay, and that required a full transfer of ownership? I didn't bother to argue. I signed. When I reached for the third document, Winona placed her hand over it. "Jordan, have I ever hurt you? Just sign it." I looked up. Both of them watched me with the same tight, careful expression. I opened it anyway. It was a share transfer agreement for 20% equity, the stake Winona had given me when we went public as a couple, the moment the entire company learned I was the man she had chosen. Everyone had looked at me as if I had won something. Winona drew a breath. "Let me explain…" she began. I signed immediately. When I finished, I set the pen down and looked at her. "Anything else?" Winona stared at me, as if she could not process what she was seeing. But this was what she wanted. Everything had been handed over to Daniel. She should have been pleased. Daniel looked as though he was barely holding back his excitement. He forced his expression into something more restrained. "Don't worry, Jordan. I'm just holding onto these for you. Once you've recovered, every bit of it goes straight back," he claimed. I stood without a word. I had only come back for the coffin suit. I had it now, and there was no reason to stay. I turned to leave. Behind me, Winona called out, "Jordan, you've lost a lot of weight." Her voice stopped me more than her words. I touched my hollow cheek. "It's fine. I'm not dying today." Something flickered across her face, a small, involuntary flinch. Then, in a voice I had not heard from her in a long time, she spoke quietly. "Have you eaten? I'll heat the leftovers from lunch. I made them myself." Winona had always been particular about cleanliness, her space, everything. Even at her most devoted to me, she had never cooked a meal for me. Then Daniel mentioned a stomachache one afternoon, and she taught herself to cook from scratch. She had burned her fingers on hot oil badly enough to blister. I had watched it happen and told her it smelled good. She would not let me touch it, saying it was his. I was about to tell her not to bother, but she had already gone into the kitchen. The living room fell silent. It was just me and Daniel. He looked at me with something open and ugly in his eyes. Then he reached behind his back and produced a bracelet, holding it up with a casual smile. "Jordan, I really like this. I want to give it to my mom. Can I have it?" That bracelet had been in Winona's keeping for years, locked in the safe. "You can have anything else, but not that," I said. "I really can't have it?" "No." Daniel clicked his tongue, then dropped it. He did not place it down. He let it fall hard onto the floor. Time seemed to slow. I watched the bracelet hit the tile and split into four clean pieces. "There. I've returned it to you," he said. He had always been two different people. In front of Winona, he appeared polished and deferential. The moment her back was turned, he became someone else entirely. Every time I tried to tell her, she insisted I was targeting him without reason and accused me of being unreasonable. Chapter 5 I had told myself that I was past caring. Dying men didn't pick fights. But when I looked at the four broken pieces on the floor, something in me flared. I had given ground again and again, and each time he pushed harder. I crossed the room and punched him. He did not even try to move. He took the blow clean to the face and dropped straight to the floor. At the same moment, a sharp cry cut in from the kitchen. "Stop!" Winona burst through the doorway and kicked me aside. The pill bottle flew from my pocket and skidded across the floor. Her heel came down on the surgical wound at my side. I couldn't get up. The pain pinned me in place. The doctor had warned me that blood cancer patients didn't heal cleanly. The wound soaked through in seconds. She stood over me, looking down with open disgust. "Jordan. I actually thought you had changed. I see now you were just playing along. I asked you to sign those documents. If you have a problem with me, take it up with me. There was no reason to hit Danny." I forced the words out through the pain. "Daniel smashed the bracelet." Winona blinked. Then her expression hardened into something dismissive. "It's just a bracelet. God knows which woman gave it to you. That doesn't make it okay to hit someone." My eyes burned. "That was my mother's." The room fell still. Winona turned to Daniel. He gave her a wounded look and said nothing. She turned back to me without asking him a single question. "It can be repaired. I'll have someone look at it. You're a grown man. You don't assault someone over a piece of jewelry, especially not someone who's done so much for you." There it was again. Done so much for me. What exactly had he done? Something snapped. "What has he ever done for me?" I demanded. Winona's voice turned flat and cold. "He volunteered to give blood after your accident. That's not enough for you?" Grief crept into my voice before I could stop it. "He gave two teaspoons before you called it off. Was that because he had a cold and you were afraid his blood would make me sick, or because you couldn't stand watching him bleed for me?" Her slap came fast and hard. "Jordan! How dare you?! Everything I have ever done has been for you," she barked. "Danny is your blood match, yes. But that doesn't mean you run to him for every little thing. He isn't an object. He's a person." She was heartbroken for Daniel. She had never once been heartbroken that I gave him a kidney. I pressed a hand to my face and let out a quiet, hollow laugh. Then I knelt and gathered the broken pieces of the bracelet, one fragment at a time. "Mom, I have nothing left," I said to no one. In her final days, my mother had thanked Winona over and over. She had said she was glad someone was loving me in her place. I wondered who that person was now. Winona watched me, caught between alarm and uncertainty. "Jordan. You still have me." Then she watched me lose consciousness on the floor. … I woke up in the hospital again. The doctor looked at me with quiet sympathy. "Mr. Wilford. Your condition has deteriorated further. You have three days at most." Winona walked in just as he said that. "Three days?" I kept my voice even. "Three days until I can check out." She accepted that without question and set my painkillers on the table beside me. "Take your medication. I've already sent the bracelet out for repair. Danny shouldn't have taken it without asking, so I punished him. He's not allowed to talk to me for a full day." She had not asked once what I was taking the pills for. One day of silence was his punishment. "Cheer up, Jordan. Guess what I have for you." She brought her hand out from behind her back and held out a wedding planning booklet. "I've decided we should get married. I don't want you overthinking things. The date is set for three days from now. From that day forward, I will never let you go through anything hard alone." I kept my hands at my sides and did not take it. She did not press. "Promise me one thing. Stop going head to head with Danny. You know why I look after him. Everything I do for him, I do for your health. For your future," she claimed. Chapter 6 Winona's expression softened, as if she had already moved past everything that had happened. I knew there was no moving past it. Not for me. "Winona. Let's end this. I don't want to get married," I said flatly. She looked genuinely surprised, but her voice remained patient. "You're just upset. Danny and I are nothing like that. He even volunteered to be your best man. Isn't that enough?" I let out a smile. It was the kind that meant nothing. I didn't argue. I had three days. That was all. … The next morning, Winona's assistant arrived with a team of bodyguards and escorted me to the blood draw room by force. He said Daniel had fallen from the bleachers during the wedding rehearsal with Winona and needed blood. Inside, Winona paced, unable to stay still. Daniel sat in his wheelchair, soaking up her attention. He watched me with a look that knew exactly what it was doing. The injury was a cut on his ankle, maybe two inches long. He had lost less than two teaspoons of blood. Winona didn't wait for the nurse. She pushed her aside and drove the needle into my arm herself. Her face looked apologetic, but her hands did not hesitate. "I'm sorry, Jordan. Danny fell because he was scouting the venue for you. You owe him this. You're healthy. Your body can handle losing a little blood. As soon as Danny is stable, we'll get married right away." The blood that flowed through the tube was pink. Winona froze. She did not understand what it meant, but she knew it was wrong. Daniel's eyes flicked. He gripped the arms of his wheelchair and made a show of trying to stand. "Winnie, don't worry about it. I should've known Jordan wouldn't want to donate. He must have done something to make the blood come out that color. It's fine. I don't want it anyway. It's just a bit of blood loss. I can handle it." I almost laughed. She had driven the needle in herself. What could I have done to the blood in my own veins? Winona stood and said coldly, "Jordan, you almost had me fooled." She turned to her assistant. "Colby, stay here and supervise. Keep drawing until the blood runs red. Don't stop." Then she wheeled Daniel out to see the doctor. Through the wall, I heard the doctor clearly. "The patient has mild anemia. A transfusion isn't necessary." "It doesn't matter. I will not let anything happen to Danny," Winona replied at once. The bodyguards around me locked down my arms and legs. I could not move. Time passed. By 27 ounces, my veins had nearly collapsed. The flow slowed to almost nothing. The blood in the tube remained pink, even lighter than before. The assistant's face had gone pale. He leaned toward the door. "Miss Elstein. We're at 27 ounces. But the color—" Winona cut him off, "Not enough. Tell Jordan I will get him the best medicine and the best food to help him recover. Tell him to hold on a little longer." I stared at nothing. I took out my phone and sent a single message to the funeral service. I asked them to come today. Warmth left my body slowly, drawn out with every bag. At some point, my head dropped to the side, and everything went dark. … Half an hour later, Winona looked at the three large bags of pale pink blood the assistant carried in with shaking hands. Her expression shifted from confusion to fury. "What is this? Are you helping him make a fool of me too?" She pushed past him to confront me herself. The assistant's face crumpled. "Miss Elstein… didn't you know? Mr. Wilford's blood was fully drained. He's gone."