Chapter 1
And I was known as the difficult wife-the kind who made scenes.
When Frederick Sterling came home late, I threw things. If he so much as spoke to a female colleague, I threatened suicide. He wished I would vanish, I wanted him tied to my side.
But that day, I broke the pattern,I cooked every dish Frederick loved.
Late into the night, he pushed open the door, the scent of another woman’s perfume clung to his coat. His expression darkened at the sight of the spread on the table and my pale, frail frame.
“Evelyn Sterling,” he said coldly. “Haven’t you tired of faking illness just to force me home? Isabella told me she saw you at the gym this afternoon-perfectly fine. And now you’re ‘sick’ again?”
My head throbbed, pain pounding my eyes. I pressed my fingertips to my temples, too exhausted to argue.
He grew angrier. “Stop pretending. Every time I am with Isabella Vance, you pull this sick act. I’m done
playing these cheap games, Evelyn.”
He paused, then slapped a document onto the table, his gaze uneasy.
“Evelyn. Let’s get a divorce.”
I swallowed the metallic tang rising in my throat and signed the papers calmly.
He didn’t know that morning I had been diagnosed with glioblastoma. Three months, that was all I had left.
The pen scratched softly against the page. On the final stroke of Evelyn, my hand trembled, the line faint.
Frederick sat across from me, his eyes frozen.
“Done?”
I didn’t look up, sliding the agreement toward him, my fingers brushing its edge once before retreating.
“Yes. Done.”
My unusual compliance drew a cold laugh from him. He stubbed out his cigarette into the ashtray. “What’s this new role, Evelyn? Playing hard to get? Or just another way to control me?”
That coppery taste surged again. I took a sharp breath and swallowed hard.
“No more scenes.”
I pushed myself up, steadying on the table’s edge, and turned toward the stairs. My knees felt unsteady.l
gripped the railing, hauling myself up step by step.
Behind me, Frederick’s voice was icy. “Don’t think this pitiful act will change anything. Once this is filed,
there’s no turning back.”
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I didn’t answer. Inside the bedroom, I shut the door and crumpled into violent coughs, blood seeping between my fingers, dripping onto the floor.
Hands shaking, I dug out the crumpled diagnosis from my bag, Malignant Glioblastoma, Stage IV.
Below, one stark line,Admission advised. Estimated survival, three months.
A brittle laugh escaped me.
Three years.
Frederick, you’re finally free of me.
I folded my clothes neatly into a dusty suitcase. Downstairs, Frederick sat on the sofa staring at his
phone,its screen lit with a message from Isabella.
Frederick, Evelyn’s always been intense. Try to be patient with her.
Followed by a pleading, tearful emoji.
He replied with a curt Yeah, but something tightened in his chest. The old Evelyn would already be smashing
things upstairs, then storming down to snatch his phone, screaming through tears about who he was texting.
Frederick poured himself a glass of cold water and drank it fast.
Then, from above, the sound of suitcase wheels scraping.
His grip tightened on the glass. He looked up as I descended, his brow furrowing at my ghost-pale face. His
gaze held its usual mockery.
“Did you pack your meds? Don’t call me a dozen times tonight saying your heart or stomach hurts, begging
me to rush back from Isabella’s.”
I stopped and gave him a thin smile. “Frederick. You’re free now.”
“Goodbye.”
I pulled open the heavy door and walked out.
He froze, a sharp pang catching in his chest. He shot up, hand closing around the doorknob,then released it.
“Tch. Another performance. Playing the victim.”
He sank back onto the couch, but unease coiled tighter inside him.
His phone buzzed repeatedly. Beatrice Sterling.
“Frederick, you fool! Did you really divorce Evelyn?” Her voice cracked, raw with tears.
He rubbed his temples. “Grandmother, this is between us. You know how she is. I can’t take it anymore.”
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“Can’t take it? Can’t take what?” She was nearly shouting, hoarse. “Frederick, you heartless boy. You will
regret this.”
The line went dead.
He stared at the dark screen, fingers clenching until his knuckles whitened.
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