Chapter 1

My wife gave away the life-saving cancer medication I had moved heaven and earth to secure to her childhood sweetheart.

While my mother was in the ICU battling terminal cancer as it metastasized, my wife posted on Instagram:

"So grateful you're still breathing!"

Meanwhile, my mother drew her very last breath.

When I called her to come home and help arrange the funeral, she said:

"The living matter more than the dead, Nathan. Chase is still in critical recovery."

Sensing she had crossed a line, she quickly added:

"Haven't you always wanted a baby? Once I'm back, we can finally have one."

I replied flatly, "No need. Go have one with Chase instead."

By the time Serena came home, my mother was already reduced to a small wooden urn.

She cast a careless glance at my mother's portrait and actually bragged:

"Babe, I saved a young life today!"

I stood there in silence, my eyes freezing cold.

In the past, whenever she returned from a night shift at the hospital and said those words, I would kiss her forehead with pride and tenderness, whispering how amazing she was.

But this time, the life she saved was bought with my mother's death.

During the days I spent handling the funeral alone, I asked myself over and over:

I had devoted my entire life to Serena, but what had my mother ever received from me?

Seeing my dead silence, she pouted.

"Nathan! Aren't you proud of me? Don't you love me anymore?"

My voice was chilled. "Where did you get that life-saving medicine, Dr. Foster?"

Guilt flickered across her face for a split second before she replied self-righteously:

"Looking at the bigger picture, saving a young life makes more sense than prolonging an elderly one!"

My eyes burned red instantly.

My mother had slaved away taking care of her for years, enduring excruciating agony in her final days, only to be reduced to a cold cost-benefit analysis!

I slammed my hand against the table and roared, "Serena, that was my mother! There are dozens of patients and children in that hospital—why didn't you go save them instead?"

Serena froze. She had never seen me lose my temper like this.

Flustered, she stepped forward and tried to wrap her arms around me.

I recoiled instinctively. Her hands were stained with my mother's blood.

Her expression shifted slightly.

"Babe, I know you're grieving. I understand family members who lose loved ones. But Mom was already sixty. Why waste a two-hundred-thousand-dollar targeted therapy on a lost cause?"

Hearing her words, I realized just how callous this woman truly was.

She was comforting me like any random patient's family member.

My mother's death didn't cause a ripple in her heart. In her mind, Chase was the only one who truly mattered.

Seeing how agitated I was, her voice finally softened.

"Alright, alright. Haven't you always wanted a baby? I agree. Let's do it."

Looking at her dismissive, patronizing attitude, my heart ached with disgust.

"No need. I accepted an offer from a press agency. I'm leaving for a long-term field assignment soon."

Serena's brow furrowed, irritation creeping back into her voice.

"Nathan, what do you mean? When we got married, we agreed you would fully support my career! If you go on long trips, what happens to this home?"

Home? Back when I won the most prestigious national photography award, job offers flooded in so fast my peers were green with envy.

Yet, for Serena, I gave up a soaring career to become a stay-at-home husband, catering to her every need. And what did I get in return?

Seeing that I wasn't responding, her voice grew louder.

"The dead are gone! Do you really have to torment the living like this?"

I fought down the rage clawing at my throat and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag.

"Dr. Foster, the medication Chase used was paid for with my money. Two hundred thousand dollars. When are you paying me back?"

Serena looked at me in utter disbelief.

"Nathan, you're talking to me about money? Now I see it. Money matters more to you than I do!"

I kept smoking, staring right through her.

Tears welled up in her eyes at last.

"Babe, I was wrong this time, okay? I apologize."