In the darkest year of his life, Alexander Thorne was forced to abandon his first love and marry me in a strategic alliance. For seven years, we fought. For seven years, he despised me. He would often curse, “Why don’t you just die already, you wicked woman?” As he wished, I was finally dying. It was the start of winter when a terrible headache sent me to the hospital. The results came back, but the doctor held the papers tight, refusing to hand them over. Inside the office, the middle-aged head doctor, dressed in a white coat, spoke again, his expression complex and troubled. “Miss, it’s best if you bring a family member.” I wasn’t stupid. My fingers tangled together, and for a fleeting moment, a chill spread through my limbs. But I pushed through it, my voice steady. “My family can’t make it right now.” “Doctor, please, just tell me. I can handle it.” A flicker of pity passed through the doctor’s eyes behind his glasses. After a brief, heavy silence, he repeated, “Still, it’s better if a family member comes.” It seemed my psychological fortitude, no matter how strong, wouldn’t be enough for this. I glanced at the stack of suppressed test results. Behind me, outside the door, other patients waited. I had no choice but to stand up and step out to make a call. Nearly half an hour later, he finally answered. Alex’s voice, cold and impatient, crackled through the phone. “What kind of stunt are you pulling now?”
My fingers, clutching the phone, tightened for a second, stiff and cold. I forced a smile, a light laugh bubbling out. “I have some good news. Meet me at the city hospital, and I’ll tell you.” He muttered, “Crazy,” and was about to hang up. My voice sharpened with urgency. “I’m not lying. The doctor asked me to call a family member.” Alex seemed to find it amusing. “What, a terminal illness? Scarlett Hayes, has fate finally decided to claim you?” A sharp pang, sudden and brutal, pierced through my heart. Seven years of arguing with Alex, and I still hadn’t learned to be numb to his words. I truly had no other choice but to soften my voice. “Why don’t you just come? After all these years as husband and wife…” He cut me off, his voice laced with utter disgust. “Scarlett Hayes, don’t you dare try to disgust me!” Standing in the biting wind outside the clinic building, a sudden chill enveloped my entire body. He hung up after throwing out, “Call me when you’re dead, I’ll send a hearse.” I waited until five in the afternoon, but Alex, predictably, never showed. I had no one else to call. My mom wasn’t well. She’d been rushed to the ER a few days ago and only discharged yesterday. After racking my brain, I found a young woman online, doing odd jobs, just before the hospital closed. I asked her to pretend to be my sister and retrieve the test results from the doctor. When she finally emerged with the papers, her eyes were red. Her voice thick with tears, she choked out, “Sis, maybe you really should get a family member to come.” I took the papers from her, a wry smile touching my lips. “Then why do you think I called you?” Her tears spilled over, tracing paths down her cheeks. I paid her, then spent a long time comforting her before finally sending her off. It was only after she left that the realization truly hit me. The brain cancer diagnosis on the paper, “less than six months to live,” was about me. Human emotions are strange. Slow to arrive, yet overwhelmingly intense. On the taxi ride home, I sat in the backseat. Through the window, I watched the yellow leaves swirl and drift across the ground. Tears suddenly streamed down my face. With less than six months left to live, I was only just realizing. How incredibly wasteful these seven years spent on Alex had been.
I took a taxi home, fumbling in the dark for the light switch. Just as I’d settled on the couch with a bowl of instant noodles, the front door creaked open. I froze, surprised, and looked towards the entrance. Genevieve had finally returned after seven years abroad, and I’d assumed Alex wouldn’t bother coming home tonight. But quickly, the surprise faded from my face. Alex strode in, his expression dark and thunderous. Clutching his hand, her fingers intertwined with his, was Genevieve, her face streaked with tears, looking utterly heartbroken. I eyed his clearly accusatory stance and wracked my brain. I was certain I hadn’t done anything to upset his beloved childhood sweetheart. The moment Genevieve saw me, she burst into fresh tears, looking even more wronged. “Scarlett, I know you don’t like me, but my sister is innocent.” I had no idea what she was talking about. I stirred my noodles, about to pick up my forks. Alex, still holding Genevieve’s hand, took a few steps forward, snatched the bowl from me, and tossed it straight into the nearby trash can. His face was contorted with fury. “Genevieve is talking to you! Are you deaf?” I shot up, furious, forcing down a searing pain in my head. “You two are insane! Get help!” Alex let out a few cold, mocking laughs. “Couldn’t trick me into coming, so you went after Genevieve’s sister? You can even invent a terminal illness. Scarlett Hayes, don’t you ever get tired?” My head throbbed fiercely, making my reactions sluggish. But I still understood. The young woman I’d casually hired for a part-time job that afternoon was Genevieve’s sister. An unbelievably cruel coincidence. I wasn’t sure if it was extreme anger or sheer hunger, but a sudden spell hit me. My vision blurred, and cold sweat beaded on my back. My body felt unwell, and my emotions surged with sudden irritation. So I decided to just give up, letting out a sneer. “No, not tired at all.” “As long as I can make you and Genevieve miserable, nothing’s too much effort.” A vein pulsed visibly on Alex’s forehead. He flung the terminal illness diagnosis sheet, brought back from the hospital, right in front of my face. His voice was a low, guttural snarl. “A despicable woman like you truly deserves a terminal illness! You should just die already!” The edge of the paper grazed my cheek, leaving a sharp sting. Alex tightened his grip on Genevieve’s hand and turned to leave. I watched the diagnostic sheet flutter past my eyes, then slowly drift to the floor. A violent dizziness hit me without warning. My body swayed, and I crashed to the ground. My instincts made me reach out for something, anything, but I only managed to knock a delicate porcelain set off the coffee table. The ceramics shattered, leaving a mess across the floor. Alex paused at the doorway, turning back. Perhaps the sight of me collapsing from being hit by an A4 paper was just too comically fake. His eyes full of revulsion, he spat out “Disgusting,” then slammed the door shut, taking his first love with him. I watched his retreating figure vanish outside the door, without a single flicker of hesitation or regret. I slipped into unconsciousness, my awareness completely fading.
Alex and I were, to put it simply, an arranged marriage. Seven years ago, he came to my family with his father, asking for my hand. I’d been secretly in love with him since childhood. That day, seeing the deep affection in his eyes as he said he loved me, it felt like a dream. We were happy for about six months after the wedding. Then, on his birthday, six months later. I’d painstakingly prepared a table full of his favorite dishes, waiting for him to come home. I waited until deep into the night. He finally stumbled in, drunk. His expression was one of despair and profound sorrow, a look I’d never seen on him before. He staggered over, then, with a sweep of his arm, violently knocked all the dishes onto the floor. I stood frozen by the table, my face aghast. It wasn’t until Alex, in a drunken daze, his face contorted, reached out and grabbed my neck. His voice was full of hatred and resentment. “I married you! Why did you still force Genevieve to go abroad?!” “Why aren’t you satisfied? Why aren’t any of you satisfied?!” I stared at the man who had always been so gentle, now behaving like a madman. My expression was blank. “Alex, what are you talking about?” His face was tormented, his eyes, brimming with hatred, seemed to want to flay me alive. “You conspired with my family to kick me out of Thorne Industries, caused my mom to suffer a heart attack and be hospitalized!” “Then you cut off all our cards, just to make me abandon Genevieve and marry you, didn’t you?!” I didn’t understand a single word, yet I felt like I understood everything. “So, Genevieve is the one you love?” Alex tightened his grip on my throat, not uttering another word. My burning love, little by little, plunged into an icy abyss. I looked at the man before me, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “So, you never loved me, and you never wanted to marry me?” Alex stared at me. Under the stark white light, he spoke, word by agonizing word. “Love you? No. I wish you were dead. I wish all of you were dead!” It felt like a lightning bolt had struck me. After a long while, I slowly calmed down, accepting the absurd truth. I looked at him, then, after a long pause, spoke calmly. “Alex, I wouldn’t stoop to such things.” “And my mother, she would never.” I did love him. I had loved him for so many years. But I wasn’t stupid. I wouldn’t demean myself. My mother had taught me since childhood that you can’t force love. Alex violently shoved me away, then stormed out, slamming the door. After that, we never knew peace again.
When I woke from unconsciousness, I was already in a hospital bed. Outside, the sky was bright. My mom, Evelyn, sat by my bed, her eyes red and swollen, with dark circles beneath them. She’d always been a powerful businesswoman. Her usually meticulously sharp makeup was now smudged and worn. Seeing me awake, she gripped my hand tightly. “Scarlett, did Alex hurt you?” My eyes welled up instantly, but I forced a smile and shook my head. “No, Mom, of course not.” My mom’s expression was agitated and furious. “You’re still lying to me.” “If I hadn’t gone to your place yesterday, no one would have known you collapsed. The cups were shattered everywhere. Were you two fighting?” I remembered the scene from last night, and the diagnostic sheet lying on the floor. My heart suddenly sank, overwhelmed with panic. My mom and I had only each other for so many years. If she knew about my illness, she wouldn’t be able to bear it. But I quickly calmed down. From her appearance, it seemed she’d rushed me to the hospital last night and hadn’t noticed the paper. My soaring anxiety subtly eased. I forced another smile. “Mom, I really just had a bad cold and a headache.” “I got dizzy when I got back and accidentally knocked over the tea set myself.” As I spoke, I pulled out my phone and showed her old cold diagnosis reports. My mom glanced at them, then stared at my face for a long time in silence. My conscience pricked, and I had to force myself to maintain a calm facade. Time ticked by, second by second. I had a bad feeling, sensing my mom had discovered something. But then, her phone rang. It seemed to be something urgent. My mom stood up after the call, her expression anxious. “Something’s come up at the company, Scarlett, you here…” She’d managed the company alone for so many years, constantly busy, it wasn’t easy for her. I immediately spoke up. “Mom, go. I’m not critically ill, and there are doctors and nurses here to look after me.” My mom hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll come back to see you later, then. Call me if anything happens.” I watched my mom leave in a hurry. For some reason, I just felt like something wasn’t right. My brain cancer was already advanced. How much longer I had to live, no one could say. After much thought, it seemed many things needed to be planned for sooner rather than later. I pulled out my phone and called Julian Vance, my childhood friend, asking him to help me draft my will. He was a lawyer, after all, and more professional in these matters. Less than half an hour later, he arrived at my hospital room, looking disheveled. The moment he stepped in and saw me in the hospital bed, his expression froze. His voice was filled with shock. “Scarlett, what… what happened to you?”
I knew I’d lost a lot of weight recently. In just half a month, I must have dropped over ten pounds. Julian sat down by my bed, sighing. “Scarlett, why do you put yourself through this? Staying with him, you’re only hurting yourself.” He knew about the discord in my marriage with Alex. His expression was filled with pity. “Get a divorce. I’ll represent you.” This time, I didn’t refuse. I nodded. “Okay.” Julian’s face froze. He hadn’t expected me to agree so readily. He was right. I used to deliberately drag things out. Alex and I had long lost any affection for each other, and neither of us wanted to continue. But it was a matter of pride; neither wanted to be the first to suggest divorce or concede. We’d discussed it during our worst arguments. But Alex had always claimed it was my wicked schemes that tore him and his first love apart. Therefore, I should walk away with nothing. All the business dealings between Thorne Industries and Hayes Corp. should also end with Hayes Corp. bearing all the losses. I could never agree to that. I, on the other hand, believed he should leave empty-handed. He should return all the advantages he gained by marrying me. Including his position as CEO of Thorne Industries. Then he could go live a romantic but hard life with his first love. Naturally, our arguments never reached a consensus. So for all these years, we’d both been dragging each other down. But now, I didn’t want to die still carrying the title of “Mrs. Thorne.” It was frankly sickening. I told Julian my thoughts. “Thorne Industries is a huge corporation. It’ll be hard for me to gain much by suing Alex.” “But Alex’s father and grandfather are reasonable enough.” “So I’d like your help to gather evidence of Alex’s infidelity.” Julian nodded. “With that evidence, you’ll have a stronger case for fighting for assets.” I agreed. “I don’t really care about the assets.” “My mom already has plenty of assets; she wouldn’t even be able to spend more money if she had it.” “I just want the Thornes to know that Alex is at fault.” “So they won’t make trouble for my mom in the future.” Julian frowned. “Your mom might not need the assets, but you do, Scarlett. You’re still young, you have a long life ahead of you. Can you really have too much money?” I gave a bitter laugh. My lips were cracked, and I tasted blood. “I won’t be around to spend it,” I whispered. “I don’t have that kind of luck.” Seven years of constant conflict. Now, I just wanted a clean break from Alex.
I didn’t want to keep it from Julian. The divorce and the will, I was entrusting to him. My illness, naturally, I had to tell him. I pulled out my phone and showed him the photo of my diagnostic report. “I have late-stage brain cancer.” “So I want to finalize the divorce and the will as quickly as possible.” Julian took my phone. As he saw the photo, his hand trembled violently, and the phone clattered to the floor. After a long moment, when he finally picked up the phone, I saw his face turn ashen. He even had tears in his eyes. To be honest, his reaction scared me. He was a grown man; the last time he’d cried was probably when he was four or five. His lips trembled. “You’re only in your twenties, how is this possible?” I handed him a tissue, a little tearful and bewildered. “Don’t be like that. I haven’t even cried yet.” Julian’s throat was tight with emotion. He couldn’t compose himself for a long time. Seeing him cry, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad myself. I sighed. “I’m actually okay. I just feel bad for my mom.” “She raised me alone for so many years, it wasn’t easy. I always hoped I’d take good care of her and give her some grandkids.” Alex, of course, would never have children with me. Because Julian was so emotional, we spent the entire morning on the will and discussing the divorce. Before he left, I cautiously reminded him again. “The most important thing is still finding proof of Alex’s relationship with Genevieve.” “The more intimate, the better. I’ll take it to Arthur and Silas Thorne then.” Julian’s face was dark, his eyes still red. He poured me warm water and bought me some food. Seemingly on the verge of breaking down, he left the items, called a nurse, and then departed. I ate a small portion of the food in front of him. But as soon as he left, I put down my forks. My head hurt, and my stomach was upset; I really couldn’t eat. The food I’d forced down made me nauseous, and I ended up throwing it all back up. I think I even cried while throwing up. Completely drained, I lay back, trying to catch my breath. The moment my back touched the bed, I heard a loud, sudden crash. It was followed by a scream from the nurse who had just come in to watch over me, startled. Alex burst through the door, pushing it open with furious force. His face was murderous. He stormed over, grabbed my arm, and yanked me up from the bed. Every word he uttered was laced with raging hatred. “Scarlett Hayes, are you really going to force my hand?!”
I was forced to sit up. My vision blurred, and my stomach churned violently. I managed to hold it in, barely avoiding throwing up on Alex. Alex seemed to have gone mad with rage. He sent the nurse away, his grip on my arm painfully tight. “You sent your mother to make a scene at my house! Aren’t you just upset Genevieve came back?” “I don’t love you. After all these years, this is the first time I wanted Genevieve to come back and see her. Is that so wrong?!” My heart plummeted. My mom had found out, as expected. She would never let me suffer. I desperately tried to push Alex away, wanting to rush to the Thornes’ house to find my mom. But Alex held me tightly, refusing to let go. His eyes looked like they wanted to devour me whole. “Genevieve has been abroad for seven years.” “Are you so evil that you demand I never see her again?” A sharp, piercing pain started in my head. The pain intensified rapidly, as if my skull were being torn apart. I was trembling uncontrollably, my voice shaky. “Let go. I need to find my mom.” Alex’s grip didn’t soften in the slightest. He sneered. “What, you think your mom didn’t make a big enough scene? Scarlett Hayes, you didn’t marry me for love back then either.” “All these years, haven’t you and your mother gotten everything you wanted? Why won’t you let me go?!” I froze for a second, not understanding his words. He, Alex Thorne, could marry me without loving me. But I, if I hadn’t loved him, would never have married him. He met my gaze, then suddenly, viciously, threw a stack of photos in front of me. “Do you really think I’m a fool?” “Less than six months into our marriage, you were already consulting Julian Vance about how to divorce me and take a share of the Thorne family assets.” I looked, disbelievingly, at the photos scattered across the bed. They chronicled almost every interaction Julian and I had shared over the past seven years. The earliest of those photos were, just as Alex said, from less than six months into our marriage. I racked my brain for a long moment, finally managing to recall that incident.
It was over six years ago. Julian and I did discuss divorce that day. But it wasn’t my divorce. It was Julian who wanted to divorce his wife. At the time, Julian’s law firm was in trouble, and he didn’t want to burden his wife. He planned to divorce her and give her what little assets he had. But his wife wouldn’t accept it. So, at the coffee shop, he told me he wanted to create evidence of the husband’s infidelity to ensure his wife received a larger share of assets, while he, the husband, would legally walk away with nothing. This way, his wife wouldn’t feel guilty. I felt a degree of sympathy for Julian’s predicament. So, after our conversation, I handed him a bank card, offering it as a temporary loan. It was only afterward that I realized I’d given him the wrong card – Alex’s paycheck card. Alex had given it to me on our wedding night. After intimacies and a few drinks, a half-drunk Alex had held me and said, “My money should be with my wife.” He was the CEO of his family’s company, but he still received a monthly salary. After giving me the card, many of his other income streams, like investments, would also be directed by his assistant straight to the card I held. After realizing my mistake, I contacted Julian the next day and swapped the cards back. Now, looking back, it occurred to me that Alex might have known everything – our conversation in the coffee shop, and perhaps even the card I’d handed over. Because Julian’s wife was an actress, they had kept their marriage secret. Alex, unaware Julian was married, had completely misunderstood. For a moment, I even had the absurd thought that Alex, speaking of those things with such fury, and tracking my interactions with Julian for seven years… Could it be that he loved me a little, that he cared? But then, the man before me spoke, shattering my utterly ridiculous fantasy. Alex’s voice was laced with sarcasm. “Scarlett Hayes, before you go to all that trouble digging up dirt on me and Genevieve.” “Maybe you should think about how you’ll explain yourself if these photos go public.” My heart plummeted instantly. So, it was a threat. I wanted to explain, but then I thought, what’s the point? It was laughable. He wouldn’t care about the so-called truth anyway. The words died on my lips, replaced by a cold sneer. I said flatly, “Think what you want.” Alex looked down at me, then suddenly reached out, harshly wiping his thumb across my lower eyelid. He snarled, almost gnashing his teeth, “You only cry in front of him. Scarlett Hayes, you disgust me.” After Alex stormed off in a rage, I immediately rushed to the Thorne family estate to find my mom. When I arrived, Alex had just pulled up too. He held Genevieve’s hand tightly, cast a cold glance at me, then entered the house, with me following closely behind.
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