Chapter Two

Lucia lay motionless in the hospital bed, staring at the white ceiling as the doctor’s words echoed in her head.

‘Stage IV.’ ‘Cancer.’ ‘Less than a year.’

Everything felt unreal. Just hours ago, she had been standing in front of their investors, about to announce the upcoming initial public offering: the moment they had worked toward for years. Logan’s dream was finally within reach. 

And now…cancer?

Tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them.

Logan sat beside her, gripping her hand tightly. His eyes were red and teary, his shoulders slumped down in defeat. 

“Lucia… baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. 

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. “We’ll fight this. I don’t care what it takes. Treatments, specialists, anything. I’m not losing you.”

His words wrapped around her aching heart. Even in this nightmare, Logan was here, breaking down for her. She squeezed his hand back weakly.

“I know,” she murmured. “We’ve come too far to give up now.”

The door opened, and Marielle rushed in, her face pale and eyes already wet with tears. She dropped her bag and hurried to the other side of the bed.

“Lucia!” Marielle’s voice broke as she took her best friend’s other hand. “I came as soon as Logan called me. Oh God, this can’t be happening…”

The two women who had grown up together in the orphanage looked at each other in tears.

“I’m not dead yet,” Lucia said, forcing a small smile. “I still have work to do. The IPO paperwork isn’t going to finish itself.”

Marielle shook her head. “You need to rest. The company can wait.”

“No,” Lucia said firmly, looking between Marielle and Logan. “I’ve poured five years into Hale Fashion. I’m not letting cancer stop me from securing our future. I want to be discharged.”

Logan frowned. “Lucia-”

She turned to the doctor. “I want to be discharged as soon as possible.”

“But-”

“I'm not asking.” 

Dr. Howard exchanged a glance with Logan. Then he nodded once and left with the nurse. 

“Lucia, this shouldn't be your priority,” Marielle said. “Right now, you should be resting-” 

“I’ll rest better at home,” she interrupted. “Please. I need to do this. For me. For Logan.”

Both of them protested, but Lucia remained unmoved. In the end, they reluctantly agreed.

—-

The next afternoon, Lucia sat in her home office despite the persistent pain in her abdomen. She had taken strong painkillers and refused to stay in bed. The penthouse was quiet except for the occasional sound of Marielle moving around in the guest room.

Lucia stared at the stacks of documents spread across her desk: equity structures, shareholder agreements, final IPO filings. 

She worked slowly but steadily, reviewing every clause she had helped create.

‘If I’m not going to be here much longer, I need to make sure Logan is protected,’ she thought. ‘He deserves this success after everything.’

She highlighted a few sections and made careful notes. Every signature, every detail had to be perfect. This company was her legacy to the man she loved.

Logan appeared in the doorway carrying a tray. 

“You promised you’d rest,” he said softly, setting down a bowl of soup and some herbal tea. “Marielle made this for you.”

Lucia looked up and smiled tiredly. “Thank you. Both of you. I’ll rest soon. I just need to finish reviewing these.”

Logan walked behind her chair and gently massaged her shoulders. She closed her eyes, thinking randomly of the number of times they had sex on this very spot. A wave of sadness washed over her again. 

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he said. “Even now, you’re still fighting for us.” 

He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Lucia.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, leaning back into his touch for a moment before returning to the documents.

That night, Lucia was still working in the study when she heard soft voices and quiet laughter coming from the living room. She paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

It was Logan and Marielle.

She couldn’t make out the words clearly, but she caught the warm tone of their conversation and another soft laugh. 

For a brief second, something uncomfortable twisted in her chest.

They’re just talking, she told herself firmly. Marielle is family. Logan is probably venting about my diagnosis because he doesn’t want to burden me. Stop being paranoid.

But she still got to her feet, and walked to the door, ignoring the pains that followed her. 

They had stopped talking. Slowly, she inched her way out, and stared down the corridor. 

There was no one out there. The television was on, and a movie was on. 

“Stop being paranoid, Lucia,” she told herself. 

She shook her head and forced herself to focus on the paperwork again. There was no time for silly thoughts. She still had so much to do.

Two days later, Logan stayed out late. 

She started getting anxious when night fell and he still wasn't back. He wasn't replying to his texts or calls either. 

It was 9 PM when she heard the front door open downstairs.

A small smile touched her lips, easing her worry. 

She saved her document and stood up, moving carefully down the grand staircase.

“Logan? Where have you-?”

Lucia stopped halfway down the stairs, her hand freezing on the railing.

Logan stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her. In his arms was a baby sleeping peacefully inside, wrapped in a soft cream blanket. Behind him was Marielle. 

Lucia asked quietly. “Whose baby is that?”