Willa stared at the divorce filing receipt, a flicker of disbelief on her face.

They had been best friends for over a decade, and for most of that time, Willa had watched Daniela pour everything into her obsession with William. It had been almost frightening to witness.

Back then, Daniela truly would have given her life for him.

When they'd finally married a year ago, Willa had felt a mix of resignation and genuine happiness. At least her best friend had finally gotten the man she'd always dreamed of.

But now...

What had happened?

"I don't love him anymore," Daniela said before Willa could even ask.

She met Willa's gaze, the corner of her mouth lifting into a small, almost convincing smile.

In that smile, Willa caught a glimpse of the old Daniela—the one from before the Sutton family fell apart, before her father died, before life had worn her down. It was a shadow of the elegant, untouched Daniela she once was.

The sight brought Willa a wave of relief.

"William doesn't know I'm pregnant," Daniela continued. "There's a thirty-day cooling-off period for the divorce. I don't want any complications, so it's better if he doesn't know."

The thirty-day period meant either of them could withdraw the petition, effectively canceling the divorce.

Willa understood then. Daniela was serious about this. She was really leaving him.

After getting the full story, Willa ordered the necessary tests before turning back to her friend. "Daniela, you'll have to wait a few days for the procedure."

"Is something wrong?" Daniela asked, a little puzzled.

Willa explained, "It's your blood type. You're Rh-negative, which is rare. I need to have a reserve supply on hand just in case. I've already contacted the blood bank, and the supply should arrive in about a week."

Daniela paused, a shadow of sadness crossing her face.

She'd inherited her blood type from her father.

A fresh wave of longing for him washed over her.

If only he were still here...

She managed a soft, "Okay." Swallowing down the lump in her throat, Daniela nodded, her eyes rimmed with red despite the faint smile on her lips.

"One more thing," Willa added. "You're showing some signs of a threatened miscarriage. Be extra careful over the next few days."

Willa's expression softened, her gaze full of concern.

They had grown up together, and Willa understood the depth of Daniela's sadness.

"Wait for me," she said, taking Daniela's hand. "My shift ends soon. We can go home together."

Daniela nodded and waited for Willa in the corridor outside.

She looked down at her stomach.

Signs of a threatened miscarriage.

Did this baby somehow sense her decision? Was it trying to leave on its own?

Daniela pressed her lips together, picked up the forms, and went to complete the remaining tests.

Buzz.

Her phone vibrated—a bank balance alert.

She'd opened this new account specifically for the divorce's cooling-off period, a clean break from William's finances.

From now on, all her income would go here.

A moment later, another message followed.

"Your commission just came through. Finance sent it over. Can you confirm you got it?"

Before her marriage, Daniela had made a living as a musician, working behind the scenes.

She'd loved music since she was a child. Back when her father was alive and she was still a wealthy girl, she'd had every resource to nurture that talent.

The turmoil that followed—the instability and loss—had given her a much deeper perspective on life.

Her father had only ever wanted to nurture her hobby. He could never have imagined it would one day become the only thing she had to live on.

After a moment, Daniela typed back, "Got it. Thanks."

The reply was instant. "You earned it. Seriously, you've written some massive hits over the years. Ever think about making a comeback? There's a new show that would be perfect for you. I just sent the details to your email. Check it out. I'm holding a contestant slot for you, just in case."

Daniela opened her email and scanned the attachment. It was a music competition show. The format was straightforward, similar to other singing contests, but with a heavy emphasis on original compositions.

Daniela replied, "Let me think about it."

After sending the reply, she put her phone down. A dull ache pulsed in her lower abdomen.

And just like that, she was thinking of her father again.

That was the second time she had missed him today.

...

Meanwhile, the internet was buzzing. Trending topics, all marked with a fiery "Hot" icon, were climbing the charts—

#ValerieCampbellStomachCancer

#FamousFloristValerieCampbellLifeCountdown

#LastSixMonthsofValerieCampbell

The top post included a video.

"Our sources have confirmed that renowned florist Valerie Campbell has been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer and has only six months to live. But in a show of incredible strength, she refuses to be defeated. Campbell plans to share her final months with her followers online—a real-time diary of her final journey."

Valerie faced the camera, her smile brave and tragic. "In these last six months, I want to share my journey with all of you. I have no other goal. I just hope to offer some comfort to others who are fighting this same battle. I hope we can all find a way to heal."

The reporter reappeared on screen. "Sources have long rumored a close relationship between Ms. Campbell and Harrison Group CEO William. But Mr. Harrison is a married man. Could this tragedy spark a real-life drama of love and loss?"

As if just noticing the reporter, Valerie walked over with a gentle smile, politely cutting in to take control of the narrative.

She looked straight into the camera.

"I admit I've always had feelings for William—there's no point denying it. He's an outstanding man. I'm sure I'm not the only woman who admires him. But I want to make one thing clear: I would never interfere in someone else's marriage. That's not me. Thank you."

With that, Valerie stepped out of the camera's view, leaving the reporter to wrap up.

She navigated through the crowd and slipped into her car. The moment the door closed, the pained smile vanished, replaced by a triumphant one.

The private caregiver, hired from a discreet Valorian agency, handed her a cup of warm water, her expression hesitant.

"Spit it out," Valerie said coolly. "The driver is one of ours."

The caregiver lowered her voice. "Ms. Campbell, your real diagnosis is a gastric ulcer. It was risky enough for my facility to fabricate a stomach cancer diagnosis for you. Why are you going public with it like this?"

Valerie's smile was pure disdain, and it clearly confused the caregiver.

"Your facility is a medical institution, correct?" she began.

The caregiver nodded.

"And my medical records are managed by your hospital, correct?"

The caregiver nodded again.

"And do those records state that I have advanced stomach cancer with six months to live?" she pressed.

The caregiver hesitated, but finally nodded.

Valerie's smile widened. "Then that's the truth. It's a truth that will hold up under any scrutiny."

"But you don't actually have cancer," the caregiver whispered, horrified.

"I see two possible outcomes," Valerie said, her eyes glinting with a warning.

"Option one: I undergo 'treatment' at your facility, and by some miracle of love and modern medicine, I recover. Option two: It's revealed that your hospital made a catastrophic diagnostic error. A massive malpractice suit for treating a healthy woman for a terminal illness."

Her expression hardened. "Which of those sounds better to you?"

The caregiver's face went pale. "I... I'm sorry, Ms. Campbell," she stammered. "I spoke out of turn. You've clearly thought this through."

Valerie gave a cold laugh.

Trying to break the tense silence, the caregiver asked, "Where to now, Ms. Campbell?"

Valerie glanced at her phone casually. "Cresthaven Grand Medical Center."

The caregiver grew anxious. "But..."

"I'm just using the diagnosis to get a prescription for painkillers," Valerie said dismissively. "Relax."

Valerie then sent a text to William, asking him to pick her up from the hospital.

His reply was almost instant. "Sure."

Meanwhile, in a hospital restroom, a heavy, dull ache seized Daniela's lower abdomen. She looked down at the tissue in her hand. It was streaked with blood.

A threatened miscarriage.