CHAPTER ONE — The Diagnosis

When you live life like a car on a highway, you don’t think about brakes.

You just keep driving fast, focusing on your dreams and the things you’ve always wanted. Until the big crash.

Mine came on my tenth wedding anniversary.

The flowers were still in my car. I was supposed to meet my husband for dinner.

Instead, I was sitting in a cold hospital room while a doctor tried not to look me in the eye.

“It’s pancreatic cancer,” he said.

So casually that, for a second, I thought I’d misheard him.

He cleared his throat. “It’s been there for a while. You’ve been having stomach pain, right? Not eating well? You’ve also been self-medicating—”

“N…no.” I shook my head, my words rushing out faster than I can think. “My sister’s a doctor. She gave me something for it. She said it’s just an ulcer. I fainted because I forgot to eat at work, that’s—”

“No, Mrs. Dawson.” His voice softened, his eyes full of pity. “It’s not an ulcer. It’s cancer. And it’s already at a late stage. The pain you’re feeling…” he paused, trying to think of which words to use. “…it’s spreading.”

My mouth went dry.

“You have one month to live,” he said quietly. “Two, if we’re lucky.”

“No.” I laughed. Shaking my head. This had to be a joke, a sick unfunny joke. “You can’t be serious, this has got to be a prank…”

I pressed a hand over my chest and closed my eyes, trying to breathe. It was something I always did when the world felt like it was falling apart.

But this time it didn’t work.

I wasn’t supposed to feel fear.

I was the woman who built Dawson Industries from nothing. A fierce CEO. A woman who never blinked, never cracked, always worked hard for her goals.

I’d worked for everything I had,

For myself, for the love of my life, Malcolm, for my parents and my younger sister, Rosie.

I thought I had a good life.

No— the best life.

A multimillion-dollar company.

A husband who was also my partner in business and in everything else.

There was nothing I wanted that I didn’t get.

And now… none of it mattered.

One month.

How was I supposed to live an entire life in one month?

The doctor kept talking, but I couldn’t really hear what he was saying. I heard bits and pieces, about treatment options, pain management, and spending time with my family. Words that sounded more and more like a death sentence.

“Mrs. Dawson, you should call your husband,” he said gently. “He needs to know.”

I nodded, though my fingers were shaking so hard the phone almost slipped from my hand. I dialed Malcolm’s number but it went to voice mail.

I tried again but it went to voice mail again.

A cold laugh slipped from my lips as my left hand pressed against my stomach, where it felt like a fire was burning my insides. The pain was sharp and gut wrenching but I gritted my teeth and decided to try another number.

Rosie, my sister. She was my safe place.

She’d answer. She always did but when I tried the number, it also went to voicemail.

My chest started aching as my heart beat so fast it felt like my ribs were going to shatter there and then. I gasped out covering my mouth as I tried not to cry out in pain.

“Mrs. Dawson, please,” the doctor stood up. “You shouldn’t go home alone. We can admit you tonight, start pain management, prepare your body for—”

I shook my head. “No. Not tonight.”

“You need someone with you.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “With my husband. He’ll come.”

I didn’t wait for him to argue. I picked up my bag and walked out before the tears could fall.

Outside, the evening air made it even harder for me to breathe. Everywhere I looked it was like it was going to be my last time. My driver saw me coming and quickly stepped out to open the car door.

“Mrs. Dawson—”

“I’m fine,” I said, even though I wasn’t. My voice cracked as I wiped my tears.

I was about to get in when my phone started ringing. The sound made me freeze.

For one insane second, I hoped it was Malcolm.

But it wasn’t. It was the last person I’d wanted to hear from at that moment.

My mother.

I swallowed hard before answering.

“Hello—”

“Patricia Dawson!” My mother screamed so loud, I pulled the phone away as I felt my head ring. “Do you know what time it is?”

I blinked, feeling confused. “Mom, I—”

“Don’t you ‘Mom’ me! Everyone is here waiting for you! Your husband, your sister, your father…everyone! And where are you? Working again? Of course! Because that’s all you ever do!”

“I wasn’t—”

“You think you’re better than the rest of us, don’t you?” my mother snapped through the phone. “Always hiding behind that company, always acting like you’re too important to show up on time! Do you know how much work your husband and sister put into this party for you? Do you know how many of your husband’s friends are here? When will you stop being so selfish? Do you think the world revolves around you?”

Her words slammed into me like a ton of bricks.

I sank into the back seat of my car and gasped, pressing a hand against my stomach as another sharp pain tore into me.

“Mom, I… I didn’t know there was going to be a party,” I gasped out, blinking back hot tears. “I thought it was just dinner, and I went to—”

“Oh, shut up!” she cut in. “You’re so selfish, Patricia. Everyone is always doing things for you. But you never appreciate anyone’s effort. Especially your sister’s. Do you think she doesn’t have important things to do besides planning your anniversary party? Which, by the way, is something you should’ve done!”

I squeezed my eyes shut as the pain in my stomach twisted deeper. “Mom, please, I’m not feeling well, I…”

“Don’t inconvenience everyone else because you’re a terrible wife!”

My throat tightened. The phone trembled in my hand. “Mom, please, stop.”

“I don’t want excuses!” she snapped. “Your sister planned this entire anniversary party for you! Your husband helped her! They’ve gone out of their way, and you can’t even bother to show up? For once in your life, stop thinking about work and think about your family!”

Something broke inside me.

“Mom,” I whispered, “I went to the hospital—”

“Enough!” she yelled. “Don’t you dare ruin this night for us. You’ll come here now, Patricia. And you’ll smile, and you’ll act like the loving wife everyone thinks you are. Do you understand me?”

The line went dead before I could answer.

I stared at the phone, staring at myself on my dark phone screen.

One month to live.

God, what have I done to deserve this? Was it because I didn’t pray enough, or donate to the needy enough. How could this happen to me?

I leaned back against the car seat, feeling weak all over my body when I felt a burning taste in my throat. I covered my mouth to cough but when I pulled away I froze.

I saw red. I had coughed blood on my palm.

My heart stopped. For a second, I felt like screaming.

The driver glanced at me through the mirror. “Mrs. Dawson, are you—”

“I’m fine,” I cut him off, wiping my hand on a tissue and hiding the stain. “Just drive. Take me home.”

The car pulled away from the hospital.

I looked out of the window watching the city blur as I felt a burning pain in my chest. This is the story of my life on the highway. And how I crashed and burned.