Chapter 1

(Rebecca’s POV)

“I want a divorce, Rebecca.”

The words landed like a bombshell, ripping through the air and stealing the breath from my lungs.

I froze.

Surely, I had misheard him.

“Sorry… what?”

He didn't even bother sparing me a glance, as he focused on loosening his tie, like he hadn’t just said the unthinkable.

He had just returned home after spending the night out with no explanation, and when I demanded one, this was his response.

“J…Jason?”

He looked up at me sharply, irritation clouding his face.

“You heard me clearly. This marriage is not working, so I want out.”

Oh my God. He was serious.

My stomach hollowed. For a second, the floor felt unsteady beneath my feet. I clutched my handbag tighter, the folded papers inside rustling faintly against my fingers.

“Jason… you can’t be serious.” The words tumbled out in a desperate rush. “Is this because I asked where you spent the night? I’m sorry. I know I sounded like I was nagging. You’ve been under so much pressure at the company, and I just…I worried when you didn’t come home. But it’s fine. Forget I asked. I’ll make your tea right now, okay? Just… Please don’t say things like that.”

God, I hated myself for how small and pathetic I sounded. But this was the man I had rebuilt my entire life around. The man I had given pieces of myself, literally, to keep. Pride had no place here.

His expression hardened with even more irritation. “Can you just stop?” He snapped. “It’s not about last night. It’s not about your nagging or my stress or any of the excuses you’re scrambling to make. Last time I checked, you don't even nag. I already made this decision a while ago.”

He reached for the leather briefcase he’d dropped by the couch, yanked it open, and pulled out a thick manila envelope. Without warning, he tossed it across the room. It landed on the couch beside me with a heavy slap. I snapped it up on reflex, my fingers holding it at the edge like it might burn me.

“There. Sign it. I had it drafted yesterday.”

My fingers trembled as I stared at the envelope. The words “Petition for Dissolution of Marriage” stared back at me in cold black ink. This wasn’t a nightmare, this was real.

Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, more to have something to do with my hands than anything else. The screen lit up with a push notification from one of those gossip blogs that always seemed to know about the elites.

“Former fashion model Arabella Vince RETURNS after three years—spotted with ex-lover CEO Jason Wellspring last night.”

The photo loaded beneath the headline. Arabella, stunning as ever, was laughing beside him outside some five start lounge. His hand was resting possessively on the top of her back.

I looked up slowly. My gaze swept across his collar, and there it was; a faint smear of bright red lipstick near the second button. A mark I hadn’t even noticed before now.

Everything inside me went cold and hot at the same time.

“Jason,” I whispered, my voice shaking slightly. “Are you cheating on me?”

He let out a harsh breath and rubbed a hand over his jaw, looking more annoyed than guilty. “Oh, come on, Rebecca. My grandmother’s gone now. We both know this marriage isn’t working. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced the next words out.

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” I whispered. “Arabella. Your ex. She’s back, isn’t she?”

He froze for a second, surprise flashing across his face before it hardened again. But this time, he dropped the pretence.

“Fine. Now you know.” His voice sounded unremorseful as he rolled his eyes. “Yes, she’s back. And I want her back. This marriage never would’ve happened if she had been in the picture. You know that. My grandmother interfered, pushed us together after the accident, and I went along with it. Now sign the goddamn papers and stop asking questions.”

The room tilted, as tears burned my eyes. The pain was so sharp, it stole my breath. This was the man I had loved so fiercely I gave up my real identity for him. The man I had saved with my own body. And he was standing there, telling me calmly that our entire marriage had been nothing but a reluctant favor to his late grandmother.

Absent-mindedly, my free hand slipped into my handbag, fingers brushing the folded medical report I’d carried home like a secret.

The diagnosis the doctor had delivered only hours earlier. The words still rang in my ears: “advanced liver cancer… late-stage… a month, Rebecca. I’m so sorry.”

I have been feeling off for months now. Fatigue, waves of nausea and dizzy spells, but I kept brushing them off as stress or not getting enough sleep.

But the past week has been brutal. This morning, after another sleepless night waiting for Jason to come home, the doctor’s office had called insisting I come in immediately. I’d almost canceled because Jason hadn’t returned and he liked his tea prepared and waiting every morning. But something in the nurse’s voice made me go anyway.

The diagnosis had been announced to me, shattering my heart to pieces.

Years after donating part of my liver to save Jason, the damage had never fully healed. I’d skipped follow up appointments to focus on being the perfect wife.

The constant emotional stress, the long nights supporting his career in silence, and years of hormonal contraceptives had pushed my compromised liver into advanced cancer, late-stage.

Treatment options were limited. The doctor had looked at me with pity and said I had just a month left.

On the drive home, I had decided I would finally tell Jason everything. My real name, my powerful family, the empire I had walked away from. If I was going to die, I wanted him to know the truth. I wanted to leave him protected and backed by my family.

But now…

I pulled my hand out of the bag empty.

Instead, I looked at the man I had sacrificed everything for, and forced a small, bitter smile through the tears.

“I.. I have something to tell you, Jason,” I began softly, my eyes wetting with tears.

Jason blinked, his features scrunching into a scowl. “What?”

“I-I’m dying, Jason.” I said. “I’ve been keeping it for so long but baby I'm.. I'm sick.”

He looked at me like I was being dramatic. “What is the meaning of this, Rebecca? What stupid stunt are you trying to pull now?” he let out a long exhale.

“I see what this is about. You think you're not getting a settlement, right? Do you want this house or the one in the country yard?” He paused, his face growing tight into a serious frown before he continued firmly. “Be rest assured I'm not giving you the penthouse or…”

His words trailed off as I looked on in disbelief. “Y-you think I'm making this up?” I gasped in shock, my eyes blurry with tears as I struggled to grapple with the reality I was faced with.