The Dying Wife Who Came Back for Revenge

With my face pale as death from terminal cancer, I lay in bed and dialed my husband’s number.

"Miles, what’s up with those wedding photos of you and Lauren on Instagram?"

His voice over the line was nothing but cold impatience.

"It’s just for work. Besides, the doctor said you only have three months left. Stop letting your mind wander."

Before I could reply, a sweet, clingy female voice came from his end.

"Miles, who is that? Come quick and help me choose our wedding dress for the engagement party!"

The call was abruptly disconnected.

My grip tightened on my phone. Then, I smiled.