Chapter 2
At dinner, I watched Roman like I'd never seen him before.
The way he ordered for me — always iron-rich foods, always the red meat, always the leafy greens. I used to think it was thoughtful. Now I saw it for what it was: livestock management.
"You're quiet tonight," he said, swirling his wine.
"Just admiring you." I forced a smile. "Three years, and you still take my breath away."
Something flickered in his gaze. Satisfaction. He reached across the table and held my hand.
"Camille, I need to tell you something." His thumb traced circles on my wrist — right over the vein they always drew from. "Dr. Voss mentioned a minor procedure on Thursday. Nothing invasive. Just a small bone marrow sample to monitor your health."
There it was. Packaged in concern, wrapped in love.
"Does it hurt?" I asked, letting my voice go small and trusting. The way he liked me.
"Not at all. I'll be right there holding your hand." He lifted my fingers and kissed them. "I'll always protect you."
That night, after he fell asleep, I slipped out of bed and crept to his phone on the nightstand. His face was peaceful, beautiful in the moonlight. A perfect mask.
I knew his passcode — our anniversary. How romantic.
His messages loaded. I scrolled past the work emails, past his assistant's scheduling notes, and found it. A contact saved as "E.M."
The latest message from Roman, sent two hours ago: *Her levels are strong. Thursday's extraction should give us enough for the next round. Hold on for me, Elise. I'm going to save you.*
Elise's reply: *I feel guilty, Roman. Does she suspect anything?*
Roman: *She's completely in love with me. She suspects nothing. She never will.*
I scrolled further back with numb fingers.
Roman, three months ago: *The sedation dosage needs to increase. She's been having fragments of memory from the last procedure. Dr. Voss will adjust.*
Roman, six months ago: *Happy anniversary to us, Elise. Three years ago today, I found her. The perfect match. Our miracle. Every day with her is a day closer to you.*
Elise: *I wish I could meet her. To thank her.*
Roman: *You will. When this is over, when you're healthy, we'll figure out what to do with her. But for now, she serves her purpose.*
What to do with me. Like I was a problem to be solved once they were finished.
I put the phone back exactly as it was and returned to bed. Roman shifted in his sleep and pulled me close, his arm heavy across my waist.
"Mm, you're cold," he murmured. "Come here."
He pulled me against his chest. His heartbeat was steady and calm. The heartbeat of a man who slept perfectly well next to the woman he was slowly killing.
The next morning, the smoothie was waiting on the counter. Vibrant green, garnished with mint. He'd already left for work but left a note: *Drink up, beautiful. See you tonight. — R*
I poured it down the sink and watched the green swirl into the drain.
Then I called the only person I trusted.
"Nadia," I said when she picked up. "I need your help. I need a lawyer, a doctor who isn't on Roman's payroll, and I need them today."
"Camille? What's wrong? You sound—"
"My husband is harvesting my organs," I said flatly. "And I think when he's done, he's going to kill me."
Silence.
Then Nadia's voice, hard as iron: "Send me your location. Don't leave the house. I'm coming."
But I'd made the call ten seconds too late. Because when I turned around, Roman's assistant, Derek Voss — the doctor's son — was standing in my kitchen doorway.
He'd heard everything.
The way he ordered for me — always iron-rich foods, always the red meat, always the leafy greens. I used to think it was thoughtful. Now I saw it for what it was: livestock management.
"You're quiet tonight," he said, swirling his wine.
"Just admiring you." I forced a smile. "Three years, and you still take my breath away."
Something flickered in his gaze. Satisfaction. He reached across the table and held my hand.
"Camille, I need to tell you something." His thumb traced circles on my wrist — right over the vein they always drew from. "Dr. Voss mentioned a minor procedure on Thursday. Nothing invasive. Just a small bone marrow sample to monitor your health."
There it was. Packaged in concern, wrapped in love.
"Does it hurt?" I asked, letting my voice go small and trusting. The way he liked me.
"Not at all. I'll be right there holding your hand." He lifted my fingers and kissed them. "I'll always protect you."
That night, after he fell asleep, I slipped out of bed and crept to his phone on the nightstand. His face was peaceful, beautiful in the moonlight. A perfect mask.
I knew his passcode — our anniversary. How romantic.
His messages loaded. I scrolled past the work emails, past his assistant's scheduling notes, and found it. A contact saved as "E.M."
The latest message from Roman, sent two hours ago: *Her levels are strong. Thursday's extraction should give us enough for the next round. Hold on for me, Elise. I'm going to save you.*
Elise's reply: *I feel guilty, Roman. Does she suspect anything?*
Roman: *She's completely in love with me. She suspects nothing. She never will.*
I scrolled further back with numb fingers.
Roman, three months ago: *The sedation dosage needs to increase. She's been having fragments of memory from the last procedure. Dr. Voss will adjust.*
Roman, six months ago: *Happy anniversary to us, Elise. Three years ago today, I found her. The perfect match. Our miracle. Every day with her is a day closer to you.*
Elise: *I wish I could meet her. To thank her.*
Roman: *You will. When this is over, when you're healthy, we'll figure out what to do with her. But for now, she serves her purpose.*
What to do with me. Like I was a problem to be solved once they were finished.
I put the phone back exactly as it was and returned to bed. Roman shifted in his sleep and pulled me close, his arm heavy across my waist.
"Mm, you're cold," he murmured. "Come here."
He pulled me against his chest. His heartbeat was steady and calm. The heartbeat of a man who slept perfectly well next to the woman he was slowly killing.
The next morning, the smoothie was waiting on the counter. Vibrant green, garnished with mint. He'd already left for work but left a note: *Drink up, beautiful. See you tonight. — R*
I poured it down the sink and watched the green swirl into the drain.
Then I called the only person I trusted.
"Nadia," I said when she picked up. "I need your help. I need a lawyer, a doctor who isn't on Roman's payroll, and I need them today."
"Camille? What's wrong? You sound—"
"My husband is harvesting my organs," I said flatly. "And I think when he's done, he's going to kill me."
Silence.
Then Nadia's voice, hard as iron: "Send me your location. Don't leave the house. I'm coming."
But I'd made the call ten seconds too late. Because when I turned around, Roman's assistant, Derek Voss — the doctor's son — was standing in my kitchen doorway.
He'd heard everything.