Chapter 2 The Countdown Begins
Back at her desk, Tracy set the documents down, took out her phone, and snapped a photo of the divorce agreement.
She sent it to her mother-in-law, Hailey Ginger.
The day after her diagnosis, Tracy had already gone to discuss the matter of divorce with Hailey.
Hailey had been more than eager for Chandler to leave Tracy. That way, her son could finally marry the Xander family heiress and climb into a life cushioned by power and wealth.
Now that Tracy had a terminal illness and no one knew how long she might live, there was even less reason to keep her in the Gaunt family.
So Hailey had promised: as long as Tracy got Chandler’s signature on the divorce agreement, she would give her thirty million in compensation.
Hailey’s reply came almost instantly: Received.
Sliding the report and the divorce papers back into her bag, Tracy pulled open a drawer. Inside lay a resignation letter she had written and printed two days ago.
Since she had decided to leave, she wouldn’t drag things out. A sharp cut was best.
She took the resignation letter and a stack of signed documents, then headed toward the CFO’s office.
The CFO was a mild-mannered middle-aged man in glasses.
When Tracy handed him her resignation, his eyes widened in shock. Panic rushed into his face.
“Tracy, you’re resigning?”
For years, Tracy had been his most capable support. With her by his side, his position as CFO had been secure.
If she left, what would he do?
Tracy nodded. “Yes. Thank you for looking after me these past years.”
Because her marriage to Chandler had always been a secret, few people knew they were husband and wife.
The CFO tugged at her sleeve, desperate. “Is it the pay? If that’s the problem, I can apply for a raise and promotion for you!”
Tracy gave a small laugh. “It’s not about that.”
“You’ve really thought this through?”
“Yes, I have.”
She had already decided to give up on Chandler himself. Staying in his company made no sense.
Seeing her resolve, the CFO swallowed his words. They stuck in his throat like stones.
With a sigh, he signed her resignation.
Then, looking up, he asked quietly, “What’s the reason you’re leaving?”
Tracy answered honestly. “I’m sick. Between work and my life, my life matters more.”
Shock flickered across his face, but he said nothing more.
The resignation required a one-month process. Divorce also required a one-month cooling-off period.
After one month, she would be free.
That evening, Tracy went home and tore the first page from the old-fashioned calendar she had bought yesterday. She crumpled it and tossed it into the trash.
On the fresh page, bold red letters marked the date: July 1st.
In one month—August 1st—she would leave this house for good.
Jennie came over with a plate of fruit. She glanced at the calendar on the coffee table and asked curiously, “Ma’am, why’d you buy that calendar? Does it mean something special?”
Tracy smiled lightly. “My birthday’s coming up. It’s just to remind me.”
Jennie frowned a little.
Birthdays could be tracked on a phone. Who still used paper calendars anymore?
She kept her doubts to herself, set the fruit down, and went back to the kitchen.
“Oh, right.” At the kitchen doorway, Jennie turned back, hesitating. “Ma’am, I just called Mr. Chandler. He said he has a business dinner tonight and won’t be home for dinner.”
Tracy popped a grape into her mouth. Her words came muffled. “Mm. I know.”
Jennie froze.
Before, whenever Chandler said he had dinner plans, Tracy would spiral into suspicion, calling him dozens of times to check on him.
She used to obsess over every little thing.
Once, in her most desperate madness, she even installed tracking software on his phone.
Not long after, she ended up in the ICU with slashed wrists.
But now? Tracy was calm. No tears, no calls, no fights.
Something was off. Very off.
The phone on the coffee table rang. Tracy glanced at the screen—her cousin, Jackson Xander.
She answered. His voice was tentative. “Tracy, are you off work now? Are you busy?”
Looking at the apple slice in her hand, she said, “No, I just got home. What’s up?”
Jackson hesitated, then spoke. “I just got a promotion and a raise. And my parents said they haven’t seen you in a while. They’d like to invite you to dinner with us.”
“Okay,” she agreed softly.
“I’ll come pick you up.”
After hanging up, Tracy got to her feet.
She told Jennie she’d be out for dinner and left the villa.
Jennie watched her go, biting her tongue.
Of course. This was the Tracy she knew. She wasn’t quiet. She was planning something big.
…
Walking along, Tracy checked the WhatsApp message Jackson had just sent.
His car had run out of gas, so he told her to wait.
She replied with an okay.
Jackson was her uncle Morgan Xander’s son, three years older than her—twenty-seven this year. He was still single, which made Morgan and his wife anxious.
But Jackson never seemed to care about finding a girlfriend.
Though Tracy rarely saw the main Xander family, she often visited Morgan’s household. Since they never had a daughter, they treated Tracy like one of their own.
Back when her mother divorced and left the Xander family with nothing, it was Morgan and his wife who often helped the two of them get by.
They were her family’s greatest benefactors.
After waiting only a few minutes outside the neighborhood, Tracy’s phone rang again.
“Tracy, it’s rush hour. I asked a friend nearby to pick you up instead.”
Just as he said it, a black Bentley pulled up in front of her. Before she could react, the window rolled down.
A face came into view—familiar, yet distant.
Clutching her phone, Tracy forced herself to speak. “I think… I see him now.”
The man’s features were sharp and defined. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled high, exposing strong, tanned forearms.
Sean lifted his gaze to her, and his thoughts drifted back five years.
Back then, the little girl had always trailed behind him with a textbook in her arms, pestering him to explain every detail.
Now, she had shed her girlishness and gained the quiet allure of a woman.
She wore a fitted smoke-purple dress, her hair pulled high in a ponytail. Her eyes held a trace of timidity, her frame thinner than before.
His deep gaze grew darker still. His thin lips parted, releasing two words.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
