Lethal Honeymoon

I thought I had married the perfect man and stepped into a dream life in a Manhattan penthouse.

But on our wedding night, after a single sip of wine my husband Caleb insisted I drink, I blacked out.

When I woke up, I found a tiny, fresh needle puncture mark on my arm.

I secretly installed hidden cameras and captured the horrifying truth.

Caleb was drugging my wine and letting a strange man into our bedroom to drain my blood while I was unconscious.

My health rapidly deteriorated into severe anemia.

When I went to a neutral hospital for a checkup, the doctor revealed an even more absurd truth.

"Ms. Emerson, medically speaking, there are no indications of sexual intercourse. You are still a virgin."

Despite being married for weeks, my husband had never even touched me.

I didn't understand.

If he didn't want a real marriage, why marry me? What was the purpose of draining my blood every week?

And why did I catch that very same hospital doctor secretly meeting with my husband and a mysterious blonde woman who hissed about "leaving no trace"?

What kind of sick, twisted conspiracy had I been dragged into?

Looking at my pale, ghost-like reflection in the mirror, a cold certainty settled in my heart.

Since my perfect marriage was just a bloody transaction, I was going to expose every last lie and burn their world to the ground.