Chapter 2

When I returned to the cold, echoing mansion we called "home," I didn't turn on the lights.

I groped my way into the bathroom in the dark. Looking in the mirror, I saw a pale, ghostly face. The nosebleed had stopped, but the dull, pounding pain in my head remained.

My doctor’s words echoed in my ears: "Sera, the tumor is pressing against your optic nerve and memory center. You will gradually lose your sight, then your memories, and finally, brain death. At most, you have three months."

Three months.

I splashed cold water on my face, pulled the wrinkled diagnosis sheet out of my bag, and was about to lay it on the coffee table when the front door was thrown open.

Julian walked in, bringing the chill of the night with him.

"Why are the lights off?" He flipped the switch, and the sudden glare made me wince and close my eyes.

He marched over to me, his brow furrowed in deep irritation.

"Sera, what was that stunt at the gala? Leaving early without saying a word? Are you throwing a tantrum to embarrass me?"

I opened my eyes and looked at this man. The man I had loved for a decade.

"That necklace belonged to my mother," I said, my voice so hoarse and cracked that it sounded foreign to my own ears.

Julian’s hand paused on his tie. Then, he let out a cold scoff.

"It’s just a piece of jewelry, Sera. Blair was tripped by some loose cables backstage and got badly shaken up. What’s wrong with me giving her something to calm her down?"

"As my wife, do you really lack this much basic compassion?"

"Shaken up?" I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound that made my stomach churn with nausea. "She gets a little scared, so she gets my mother’s final heirloom to feel better? Julian, do you even have a heart?"

"Enough!" Julian slammed his tie onto the sofa, his eyes flashing icy anger. "Don't start with your dramatic accusations, Sera. Blair has been physically weak since she was a child. You have everything in the world. Why do you always have to fight her for every little thing?"

I had everything?

I stared at him, finding his words incredibly absurd.

My parents were dead. My family was bankrupt. I had worked myself to the bone helping him build his empire from scratch, destroying my own health in the process. Now, all I had left was a terminal brain cancer diagnosis.

And he had the nerve to say I had everything.

"Julian, what if I told you I was dying?" I asked, looking straight into his eyes.

Julian froze for a fraction of a second. Then, a look of profound disgust swept across his face.

"Sera, are you seriously using a fake illness now just because you're jealous? Your annual health reports are sent directly to my office by my assistant. Aside from some mild anemia, you're perfectly fine!"

"Stop acting. I'm exhausted."

Without even looking at the paper crumpled in my hand, he turned and stormed upstairs, slamming the guest room door shut behind him.

I stood alone in the empty, silent living room. My hands and feet felt completely numb.

Of course he didn't know.

He never had the time to go to the hospital with me. The assistant he sent to manage my medical records had been bought off by Blair months ago.

I slowly opened my fist. The crumpled diagnosis paper was stained with my blood.

I walked over to the trash can, opened my hand, and let it go.

The paper fluttered down, disappearing into the trash.

Since he didn't want to believe me, there was no point in saying another word.