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My husband, Bowen Liddell, said I was not gentle enough. My parents called me selfish, and my daughter said she loved Yvonne Lawson more. So, I decided to spend my last 72 hours giving everything I had—my life, my legacy—to this perfect woman.

The doctor's words echoed in my ears. "It's late-stage cancer. If you don't start the special treatment immediately, you have, at most, three days."

I leaned back in the hospital bed and stared out the window. I had poured myself into this marriage for seven years as Bowen's wife until she appeared.

The door opened, and Bowen walked in. His expression was already tinged with impatience as he asked, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I answered softly.

He frowned. "The doctor said you need that experimental treatment, but—"

"But Yvonne needs it more, right?" I finished for him, curling my lips into a bitter smile.

Yvonne was the pitiful girl I convinced my parents to adopt from the orphanage when I was 12. I treated her like a real sister, never imagining she would take everything from me one day.

"You have to understand," Bowen said, his tone softening. "Yve's condition is worse. Her kidneys are close to failing, and you...you still look fine."

Yeah, I looked okay. No one knew I had been secretly taking fatal doses of painkillers just to numb the agony that the cancer was causing.

I replied calmly, "I understand. Let her have the treatment."

Relief washed over Bowen's face. "I knew you'd understand. You've changed a lot these past few years—you're not so stubborn anymore."

Stubborn? I laughed bitterly to myself. Ever since Yvonne came into our lives, every time I stood my ground, it was labeled as jealousy and pettiness.

That evening, I forced myself to go home.

"Mommy!" My daughter, Candice Liddell, saw me and immediately hid behind Yvonne.

"Hey, Candice..." I managed a smile.

"Kathleen, you're back," Yvonne said, wearing the luxury suit I had given her. She was sitting in what used to be my spot.

"Yve, I have something for you."

I walked to the study and returned with a folder. "These are the transfer papers for my art gallery. I want to give it to you."

"What?" Yvonne stood up in shock. "Kathleen, that's your beloved gallery!"

Yes, it was the gallery I had built from the ground up—my life's work. However, at that point, none of that mattered anymore.

I smiled. "You're better suited to run it than I am. Consider it an early wedding gift."

Yvonne's expression flickered, but she quickly resumed her innocent look. "Kathleen, what are you talking about?"

I stepped closer and whispered, "I know everything. It's okay—I wish you both well."

Bowen walked in just then, looking tense when he saw us together. "What are you two talking about?"

"Kathleen wants to give me the gallery," Yvonne said with tears in her eyes. "She's being so kind."

Bowen looked at me, complex emotions flashing in his eyes. "Kathleen Sullivan, you—"

"I'm tired," I said, interrupting him. "I'm going upstairs to rest. Candice, be good and listen to Aunt Yvonne."

"Okay," Candice replied flatly. Then, she turned to Yvonne. "Mommy Yvonne, let's keep playing our game."

My heart clenched when I heard her addressing her as Mommy Yvonne.

Back in the bedroom, I leaned against the door and finally collapsed. The cancer cells were devouring my life, and those drugs were accelerating the process.

Later, I began sorting through my closet. Those expensive dresses, jewelry, and handbags would all belong to Yvonne soon.

"You have 72 hours left," I whispered to my pale reflection in the mirror. "Kathleen, for these last three days, let them remember a perfect version of you."

I knew the truth would come out eventually.

Everything after my death had already been arranged, and the evidence I gathered would expose who Yvonne really was.

I knew they would regret it all, but I would already be gone by then.

That would be my revenge.