Chapter 1

The day I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer, my boyfriend knelt in the hospital hallway holding me, saying he'd trade his life to give me one more day.

The next second, his mouth didn't move, yet I heard his voice, vicious to the core.

【Three months is still too long. If Garry Pruitt dies before her, dividing up the estate means one more layer of paperwork.】

I thought death had frightened me into hearing things, until his mother came in wearing the designer evening gown my late mother had left behind, carrying a bowl of soup laced with something, urging me through her tears to drink it down.

【Wearing her mom's clothes really is comfortable. The fabric beats those rags in the shops. Once this dead girl stops breathing, everything in this house is mine.】

So the terminal illness was fake, the devotion was fake, and even the "Pruitts" they kept invoking were nothing to them but a prize that would sooner or later change its name to James.

But they didn't know the only daughter of the Pruitt family wasn't a lamb waiting to die.

They wanted to put on a show of deep love and loyalty. I would let them perform it all the way to prison.

1

When they handed me the diagnosis, I sat outside the exam room a long time without moving.

Black on white, it read late-stage stomach cancer, immediate hospitalization advised. The doctor put it gently, and still, at the end, added quietly that the family should prepare themselves.

The sun was bright outside. A child ran past in the hallway, his mother chasing after him, telling him to slow down.

I stared at the scene, and the tears just fell.

I was only twenty-eight.

I hadn't taken my father to see the snow-capped mountains he'd talked about for over a decade, hadn't pulled the Pruitts out of the slump of these past two years, hadn't even taken the time to love myself properly, not once.

The first person I thought of was Joshua James.

Seven years ago he'd confessed to me on the college field, so nervous he forgot every word he'd prepared and just shoved an ice-cold soda into my hand.

Later, when my mother died and I went three days without sleep in the funeral hall, he was the one who stayed beside me. When my father collapsed for the first time, he was the one who kept watch through the night in my place.

Countless times I'd counted myself lucky. However hard things got, I still had Joshua.

So I didn't tell him right away.

I was afraid it would break him, afraid that the moment he heard the words "late-stage," his tears would fall before mine.

But I'd barely reached the hospital lobby when he came running from across the room, his forehead soaked with sweat.

"Marty, what did the doctor want with you? Why do you look so pale?"

He snatched the folder from my hand, his movements frantic, as if he were truly afraid.

I wanted to stop him but had no strength left.

The diagnosis slipped out, and his eyes landed on those few words, and he went rigid where he stood.

The next second, Joshua pulled me into his arms, his shoulders shaking hard.

"No. It has to be a misdiagnosis. We'll switch hospitals, get the best doctors."

His tears struck the side of my neck, hot enough to make my chest ache.

I was about to comfort him when a low voice sounded in my ear.

【About done crying? Don't get my clothes dirty. She's at her most fragile right now, better get her to sign the authorization while she's still raw.】

I shoved him away hard.

Joshua's lips were pressed shut, and the tear tracks on his face weren't faked in the slightest.

"What's wrong?" He touched my face, panicked. "Does something hurt?"

【She couldn't have figured anything out, could she? No way. Stupid as she is, what could she possibly know?】

My heart clenched all at once.

This is a hallucination, I told myself.

A person handed a death sentence, it's no surprise the mind slips.

But Joshua held me all the way to the car, and as he gently buckled my seatbelt, the voice went on.

【Three months. That's plenty. Keep her steady first, and someone has to keep eyes on Garry Pruitt too.】

I looked at my own pale reflection in the car window and suddenly felt so cold I was shaking.

Joshua reached over to turn on the heat, but I shrank away to the side.

"Marty?"

"It's nothing." I lowered my head. "I'm just a little scared."

He gripped my hand at once, his voice choked.

"Don't be scared. I'm here."

I used to believe that line more than anything.

But today, for the first time, I wished he weren't.