I pulled my gaze away and flagged down a cab.

"Downtown General, please."

I leaned my head against the window and watched the streets blur past. Tears fell before I could stop them.

Five years. Five years I'd given him, and every single one of them had been wasted.

At the hospital, I checked myself in alone.

The attending physician studied my pale face and let out a sigh.

"Ms. Henson, your condition isn't looking good. We need to operate as soon as possible. And the follow-up medication won't be cheap."

I nodded.

"If money can buy me more time, that's all that matters. Doctor, please schedule it as soon as you can."

I transferred every penny I'd saved over the years onto my medical payment card. I may have walked away from the company, but at least I had enough to cover my treatment.

I changed into a hospital gown and lay down on the cold bed.

The woman in the next bed over had her son and daughter at her side, all of them laughing and chatting.

I had no one but myself.

A sharp cramp seized my stomach. I curled into a ball under the thin blanket, gritting my teeth through it.

I was just drifting off when the door to my room slammed open.

Wallace stood in the doorway, breathing hard.

His tie was crooked. His eyes burned with fury.

Lola trailed behind him, her face the picture of wounded innocence.

"Georgette, what the hell kind of tantrum are you throwing?"

Wallace strode to my bedside and looked down at me.

"Mr. Ward canceled the partnership. He says you're the only point of contact he'll work with!"

"Get up. Call him right now and straighten this out!"

I stared at the righteous indignation on his face and almost laughed.

"Mr. Gilbert, I've resigned."

"The company's business has nothing to do with me anymore."

Wallace's hand came down hard on the nightstand. The water glass sitting on top toppled and shattered against the floor.

"I'm handing you a way out, and you should be smart enough to take it."

"Or do you actually want to sit back and watch the whole company fall apart? Is that what gets you off?"

"I know you're upset I gave your position to Lola, but look at yourself. You're half-dead. What could you possibly do?"

"Lola's young and full of energy. She's a better fit than you ever were!"

Lola stepped forward and curled her hand around Wallace's arm, all delicate concern.

"Wallace, please don't be angry with her. This is all my fault. I was too stupid to keep Mr. Ward on board."

"Georgette probably set the passwords wrong on purpose because she's upset with me."

A cold laugh escaped my throat.

"Lola, you couldn't crack the encryption on your own, so you came running to blame me?"

"The handover documents were perfectly clear. If you couldn't understand them, that's your problem."

Wallace's face went dark.

He grabbed the edge of my blanket and ripped it off.

"Stop faking it! Get up!"

"You are going to smooth things over with Mr. Ward today, or you won't be able to afford the damages!"

The cold hit me like a wall. A vicious cramp twisted through my stomach and doubled me over. I pressed both hands against my abdomen, and cold sweat ran down my temples.

"Wallace, I'm sick. I need surgery."

"I can't help you."

Wallace didn't believe a word of it.

"Sick? With what? A case of princess syndrome?"

"Georgette, you used to down three bottles of baijiu at a client dinner with a hundred-and-three fever just to close a deal. And now you're telling me you're sick?"

"This whole playing-hard-to-get routine is pathetic!"

He pulled out his phone and dialed finance right in front of me.

"Cancel Georgette Henson's health insurance."

"And that medical expense card the company set up for her? Deactivate it. Immediately."

He hung up and fixed me with a frigid stare.

"Georgette, I'm giving you one last chance."

"Right now. This second. Call Mr. Ward."

"Or you can rot in this hospital bed alone."

I stared at the man standing over me.

He felt like a complete stranger.

Five years of love, and in his eyes, it didn't even measure up to a business deal.

I clenched my teeth against the searing pain and pointed at the door.

"Get out."

Wallace froze.

He'd never heard me use that tone before. I'd always been the one to accommodate him, to soothe him, to smooth things over.

"Fine, Georgette. You've got nerve." Wallace laughed, the kind of laugh that came from pure fury. "Let's see how long that backbone lasts!"

"When you can't pay your medical bills and they throw you out on the street, don't come crawling to me!"

He grabbed Lola's hand and walked out without looking back.

Lola turned at the doorway, her eyes gleaming with undisguised satisfaction.

The room fell quiet again.

I was shaking from the pain. I pressed the call button on the bed rail.

A nurse rushed in and gave me an injection. Only then did the agony ease enough for me to breathe.

The next morning, my attending physician came to see me. His expression was grim.

"Miss Henson, your health insurance and medical card have both been suspended."

I stared at him.

"On top of that, your condition has deteriorated. You need an imported specialty drug immediately." He paused. "It's extremely expensive, and there's only one dose available in the entire city."

I pulled out my bank card. "Use my own funds. There's two million dollars in this account."

The doctor shook his head.

"The drug is no longer available. Someone already bought it."

My mind went blank. "What do you mean?"

He let out a heavy sigh. "This morning, someone pulled strings and had the city's only dose of the drug picked up. Apparently it was for a patient with a scrape."

A scrape.

A life-saving drug, used on a scrape.

Wallace. It had to be Wallace.

In this city, only he had the resources to pull something like that, and only he had a reason to target me right now.

I forced myself upright and ripped the IV needle from the back of my hand. Blood beaded on my skin, but I didn't care.

I stumbled toward the door.

I couldn't die. Not yet. I hadn't lived enough. I hadn't watched the people who destroyed me get what they deserved.

I took a cab to Wallace's private estate.

The front gate was open.

I made it to the living room entrance and heard laughter drifting out from inside.

"Wallace, you're so sweet." Lola's voice, syrupy and adoring. "I just bumped my knee a little, and you had someone bring me the most expensive drug in the whole city."

Wallace chuckled, his tone impossibly gentle. "As long as you're okay. It's just medicine."

I pushed the door open and stared at them, my blood running cold.

Lola was perched on the sofa. On her knee was a single Band-Aid.

Wallace sat beside her, carefully peeling grapes and feeding them to her one by one.

When he saw me, his expression darkened.

"What are you doing here?"

I pointed at the Band-Aid on Lola's knee. My voice shook.

"You took my life-saving medication and used it on a scraped knee?"

Wallace scoffed. "Life-saving medication? Georgette, are you addicted to the theatrics?"

"Lola is a dancer. She can't have scars on her legs. That drug is excellent for scar prevention, so I bought it for her. What's the problem?"

I was trembling with rage. "That drug is for treating stomach cancer, not preventing scars!"

"Wallace, have you completely lost your mind?"

Lola ducked behind Wallace, putting on a frightened little act. "Georgette, please don't be so scary."

"It's just a box of medicine." She stepped out again, her fear evaporating as quickly as it had appeared. "I'll pay you for it."

She pulled a thick stack of cash from her purse and walked up to me.

"Here. This should be enough to buy you ten boxes, right?"

She opened her fingers.

The bills fluttered to the floor around my feet.

"Oops." She pressed a hand to her lips, eyes wide with mock innocence. "Butterfingers."

"You don't even have a job anymore, Georgette. Better pick those up while you can."

She covered her mouth and giggled.

I stared at the money scattered on the ground, my stomach churning violently.

A mouthful of blood surged up and out.

It splattered across Lola's white dress.

"Ahh!"

Lola shrieked and stumbled backward. "You psycho! That's disgusting!"

Wallace shot to his feet. When he saw the blood, something flickered in his eyes—panic, maybe. But it vanished just as fast, replaced by that familiar coldness.

"Georgette, you're actually coughing up blood now to guilt me into giving in?"

"You think this is going to make me feel sorry for you?"

I pressed a hand to my chest and sank to the floor, too weak to stay upright. My vision darkened at the edges.

"Wallace, give me the medicine..."

My voice came out thin, barely there.

"I'm really... I can't hold on much longer..."

Wallace walked over and stood above me, looking down.

"You want the medicine? Fine."

"Apologize to Lola. Promise me you'll go back to the office tomorrow and close the Ward deal."

"Then I'll give it to you."

I looked up at him. Tears and blood ran together down my chin. The taste was metallic and sweet.

This was the man I'd loved for five years.

He'd sacrifice my life for Lola's scraped knee.

I closed my eyes and forced out two words with everything I had left.

"In your dreams."

Wallace's composure shattered.

"Fine! Then go ahead and die!"

He grabbed me by the collar and dragged me toward the door.

"Don't stain my carpet!"

I tumbled down the front steps.

The door slammed shut in my face.

Rain hammered against my skin.

Cold. So cold.

My consciousness started to slip.

Just as I thought I was going to die in the rain, a pair of black leather shoes stopped in front of me.

I forced my eyes open. Through the blur, all I could make out was a tall silhouette.

A man, holding a black umbrella.

He crouched down. Long fingers pressed against my neck, checking my pulse.

"Still alive."

His voice was low, laced with authority.

"Take her."

I blacked out.

When I came to, I was lying in a soft bed. The room around me was lavish. I caught the faint scent of agarwood.

"Awake?"

That same low voice, right beside the bed.

I turned my head and saw the man from the rain.

He wore a tailored suit, every feature sharp and defined.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

I tried to sit up, only to realize I was hooked to an IV line.

"Dennis Delgado."

Three syllables. That was all he offered.

I froze.

Dennis Delgado. The man who controlled a multinational medical empire.

Why would he save me?

"You were dying."

Dennis tossed a medical chart onto the bed in front of me.

"Late-stage stomach cancer. Malnourished, compounded by acute physical trauma. Three days, at most."

A bitter laugh escaped me.

"I know."

"The medicine was taken. I couldn't afford more."

Dennis studied me, one brow lifting slightly.

"One vial of medicine, and you were willing to let yourself be destroyed over it?"

He snapped his fingers.

The door swung open. More than a dozen doctors in white coats filed into the room.

"This is a specialized oncology team." Dennis gestured toward them.

"From this moment on, your life is in my hands."

I stared at him, stunned.

"Why? We're strangers. You owe me nothing."

Dennis leaned in close, his lips near my ear.

"Because you have something I want."

"The core technology behind the Ward deal. That's your work."

My pupils contracted.

He even knew about that.

"Help me secure that technology, and I'll give you your life back."

Dennis straightened, looking down at me.

"It's a good deal."