Until Death, Then Divorce.

#AvelineI didn’t leave the foyer right away. My feet felt glued to the cold marble floor, while the echo of the heavy oak door to Rhett’s study slamming shut still vibrated through the grand hallway. The medical report in my hand felt like a sick, twisted joke. Six months to live, my diagnosis was an absolute death sentence, and yet the man I had given my youth to was already executing a plan to replace me.A sudden, sharp spasm of pain bloomed deep within my abdomen, a cruel reminder of the war being fought inside me. I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing a trembling hand against my stomach, forcing myself to draw a slow, ragged breath through my nose. I couldn't break down here. Not in the open. I couldn't let the staff see me crumble, and I certainly couldn't give Rhett the satisfaction of seeing me look weak.Before the pain could completely subside, a burst of bright laughter echoed from the grand parlor down the hall, cutting through the suffocating silence of the ground floor.It

#AvelineThe heavy oak doors of the parlor clicked shut behind me, and with that single sound, the final thread of my old life snapped. I stood alone in the dim, cavernous hallway of the Calloway mansion, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my cardigan to hide the violent shaking of my fingers. Inside that room, Celine was still cradling her stomach, whispering to Rhett about the son she was carrying, the perfect heir I could never give him. Inside that room, Lyra, the girl I had raised from an infant, was cheering for my replacement. A sudden, sharp spike of pain clawed at my abdomen, so intense that my vision instantly went white at the edges. I stumbled forward, my shoulder slamming hard against the cold wallpapered wall of the corridor. I gasped, a ragged, desperate sound, as the aggressive terminal illness inside me flared up. *Six months,* the doctor had said. But under the suffocating weight of this house, it felt like my body was trying to give up right now. “No.” I g

#AvelineThe first thing that came back to me was the smell. It was a sharp, burning smell of hospital bleach that hurt the back of my nose. Right under it was a soft, heavy scent of expensive lavender oil. It was a clean smell, but it was so strong it made it hard to breathe. I tried to open my eyes. My eyelids felt like they were made of heavy stone, glued shut by a deep sleep. When I finally forced them open, everything was a soft, blurry cream color. The lights were low and warm. There were no harsh, buzzing hospital tubes on the ceiling. I was looking up at a massive, beautiful ceiling with costly wood trim. I tried to turn my neck to see where I was. A sudden, sharp bolt of pain shot straight down my spine. It felt like the bones in my neck had turned to solid rock. A tiny gasp left my dry lips. My throat felt like rough sand. Slowly, trying to fight the pain, I tried to lift my body to sit up. The moment I shifted my weight, a wave of sickness hit my stomach. My arms and legs