I spent my wedding night alone because my husband’s grandmother said every groom in their family had to sleep beside “the matriarch” before joining his bride. My husband told me not to make a scene. By morning, I was done being polite. I opened the door and found him unconscious beside her, with an unfamiliar stain on the sheet and a tiny puncture mark on his arm. That was when the story stopped looking like a disgusting tradition and started looking like something much darker.

I dropped the black ledger, my hands shaking so violently I could barely breathe.

I was not just a bride to them; I was a scheduled organ donor for a dying old woman.

I shoved the ledger into my large purse, knowing it was the only evidence that could save me.

As I turned toward the bedroom door, a large shadow blocked the hallway light.

I screamed and reached for the heavy bronze bookend on the desk.

A tall, heavily scarred man stepped into the room, holding his hands up in surrender.

It was Leo, Julian’s older, estranged brother who had been banished from the family five years ago.

He told me to put the weapon down, promising he was not there to hurt me.

I gripped the bronze statue tighter, demanding to know what the hell this family was doing.

Leo looked at the broken lockbox on the floor and let out a heavy, tragic sigh.

He explained that the women in this bloodline suffered from a rare, terminal genetic decay.

The only way the matriarchs survived past fifty was by harvesting healthy spinal fluid from the men.

He told me the wedding night ritual was designed to paralyze the groom and extract the fluid while his heart rate was elevated.

I felt physically sick, remembering my husband lying helpless in that bed.

I asked Leo why they murdered the wives after exactly one year.

Leo looked at me with deep, profound pity in his dark eyes.

He explained that the extracted spinal fluid was completely useless on its own.

It had to be genetically bonded with the blood of a woman who was carrying a child.

My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit of absolute horror.

I told him that Julian and I had only been married for twenty-four hours, and I was not pregnant.

Leo shook his head slowly, a grim, terrifying expression crossing his scarred face.

He reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a stolen medical file with my name on it.

When my newborn 'passed away,' my mother-in-law leaned in and said

My Husband Left Me Alone in My Car While I Was in Labor

“You’re Dead When We Get Home,” He Snapped

He told me that Eleanor had secretly tested my wine glass at the rehearsal dinner.

I was four weeks pregnant, and the family was going to harvest my baby to keep Eleanor alive.

Chapter 4 - The Outcast Brother