Chapter 1

My husband, Tristram Dickerson, earns fifty thousand a month and hands over every cent of it, yet we still can't make ends meet.

His mother needs twenty thousand a month for her heart medication, and his father needs fifteen thousand a month for his leg rehab.

Then our daughter was diagnosed with leukemia and admitted to the hospital, and I couldn't even scrape together the hundred thousand for the surgery.

Everyone thought I was a spendthrift, and they all took Tristram's side.

After that, he lost his mind.

In three years, he went from a salesman to a president worth billions.

He stopped giving me a single cent.

Even on the day I was diagnosed with stomach cancer.

He looked at me coldly, his tone like he was handing out charity to a beggar.

"Paulette, if you've got the nerve, then die."

"Has anyone ever told you how sickening you look, faking an illness to scam money?"

I saw the million-dollar bracelet on the wrist of his secretary, Gladys Fox.

He said it was a reward for her work on a project.

In his mind, I was the one who killed our daughter.

So be it.

I would do exactly as he wished and vanish from his world.

...

"Stomach cancer. Late stage."

"The surgery will cost three hundred thousand."

The doctor pushed his glasses up and slid the diagnosis across to me.

I said thank you and turned to leave.

The moment I stepped out of the office, I saw Tristram at the far end of the corridor, supporting Gladys.

Gladys's foot was still wrapped in gauze.

I pretended not to see and turned to slip out through the side door.

Tristram came storming after me.

He grabbed my arm and planted himself in front of me.

"Paulette, you really are something."

"You actually followed me just to get my attention."

Followed him!

He thought I was following him.

I gave a bitter smile and couldn't help clenching the diagnosis in my hand.

It was still raining outside, and I was holding my mud-splattered delivery uniform.

If he'd stopped to think for even a second, he wouldn't have said something so stupid.

I opened my mouth to explain, even to show him the diagnosis.

Just then, Gladys hobbled over on her crutch.

She glanced at me and started explaining.

"Paulie, please don't get the wrong idea."

"I was bringing some documents to Mr. Dickerson when I slipped and fell and twisted my ankle."

She paused, then choked up.

"I know I shouldn't have let you misunderstand."

"But you should trust Mr. Dickerson too. He's your boss, after all, and he has his pride. How could you follow him around?"

Gladys was Tristram's junior from school.

She'd only been at the company five months and had already climbed to the secretary's post, so she clearly had some skill.

I looked up and watched Gladys standing up for Tristram.

And suddenly I laughed out loud.

I said nothing and turned to leave the emergency wing.

But Tristram was furious and came chasing after me.

"Gladys is talking to you, and this is how you treat her?"

"Don't you know she's injured? A bad mood will slow the healing of her wound."

"Come on, go apologize to Gladys."

He seized my hand and dragged me back in front of her.

"Apologize!"

I looked at Gladys, and the tears came dripping down her face.

I really couldn't stand to watch anymore and turned to go.

"I told you to apologize. Did you not hear me?"

Crack!

A sharp slap landed across my face.

My right cheek swelled up fast.

My body shuddered, my hand went slack, and a sheet of paper drifted lightly down in front of Tristram.

The paper lay on the ground, soaking up the rain.

The word "stomach" was half smeared away, but the three words "late-stage cancer" still stung the eyes.

One glance and Tristram's face went white.

He stared at the spot where the water had blurred the ink, fury surging up in him.

Seeing that something was off, Gladys quickly snatched the paper up.

"Where did you get this?"

The words had barely left her mouth.

Tristram grabbed the diagnosis out of her hand.

Seeing his expression turn ugly, Gladys said hurriedly,

"Paulie, this diagnosis is fake. How could you lie to Tristram like this?"

On the strength of one piece of paper, Gladys had pinned a crime on me.

And Tristram, without bothering to verify anything, believed her.

He raised his hand and slapped me, glaring at me hard.

"Paulette!"

"You'd better give me a reasonable explanation, or we're getting a divorce!"

Divorce!

In the past.

Those were the two words I dreaded hearing most.

Every time we argued, he'd hang the word "divorce" over my head.

And every time it ended with me caving and trying to please him.

Now, hearing the word again, I felt nothing at all.

"Fine, let's divorce!"

It came out before I could stop it.

Behind me, Tristram let out a furious roar.