The day I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer, intimate photos of Xavier Spencer and that woman went viral again.

The Spencer family heir’s affair caused chaos in the stock market overnight.

Shareholders urged me to make a statement, and the media demanded an immediate response—just like countless times before.

Xavier called, his tone cold and arrogant.

“I’m busy taking Lily to the play. Handle it yourself—you’re used to it anyway.”

Then he added, “And if you dare say a single bad word about her, the Williams family won’t just go bankrupt.”

This time, I didn’t argue or lose control.

I simply looked at the two urns on the table and said quietly, “I understand.”

I told the PR department to prepare for a press conference, but tore up the speech they wrote for me.

They say people nearing death make a bucket list to avoid regrets.

But mine had only one thing—divorcing Xavier.

——

…The press conference had barely ended when Xavier called, furious.

“I told you to clarify the rumors. Who said you could mention divorce?”

“What’s the difference between that and calling Lily a mistress in public?!”

I froze, a wave of absurdity washing over me.

How could I have mistaken him for someone afraid of losing our marriage?

Pressing my aching stomach, I replied calmly, “Since you love her so much, shouldn’t you give her a proper place?”

“This position never truly belonged to me. I’m just returning it to its rightful owner.”

There was silence, then a mocking laugh.

“Do you think Lily is as selfish as you? She only ever cared about me.”

“Nina Williams, you really think you can play the victim and I’ll sign the papers? Not that easy.”

“You stole the title of Mrs. Spencer—now you’ll sit there and cry. Unless I get tired of you, don’t even think about leaving.”

He hung up abruptly.

He must have been disappointed not to see my usual humiliated and submissive self.

The video of me announcing my divorce was quickly erased from the internet.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

I no longer had the time or strength to keep playing this cruel marriage game. I didn’t even need his signature.

When I arrived at the old house, my grandpa, Charles Spencer, was waiting for his studies.

Hearing that I wanted a divorce, he frowned. “Nina, I know you’ve suffered these past years. Xavier just lost his way for a while. Marriage isn’t a game. You can’t divorce out of anger—especially with your parents…”

Before he could finish, I shook my head gently.

“Grandpa, my parents are gone. Letting me divorce is their last wish—and mine.”

When he saw the two urns beside me and the cancer diagnosis, Grandpa Charles fell silent, shocked.

“Before I die, I just want a few peaceful days. Please, help me—for the sake of the child you watched grow up.”

Xavier might be the head of the Spencer family now, but I knew Grandpa Charles could still make it happen.

After a long silence, he finally sighed.

“Go, then. It’s the Spencer family that wronged you. That boy… he truly failed you.”

He had watched both of us grow up—and he had witnessed how I slowly withered in this marriage.

As he was leaving, he called me back, his eyes filled with sorrow.

“Nina, wherever you go, tell Grandpa. If that day truly comes, Grandpa will come to see you off on your final journey…” My nose burned, and tears welled up.

I wiped my eyes and nodded with a faint smile.

After burying my parents, I packed up all my belongings, preparing to donate them to charity.

The marriage certificate slipped to the floor. In the photo, Xavier held me close, his gaze tender and full of love.

Five years later, that same face looked at me only with contempt.

Sometimes, even I couldn’t understand—how could I, who prided myself on my judgment, have made such a mistake?

If only I had asked one more question back then, maybe things would be different now.

Maybe I was just too greedy.

For as long as I could remember, Xavier had been the most dazzling figure among New York’s elite.

Handsome, brilliant, and effortlessly charming, he exuded a noble confidence that drew everyone in.

Wherever he went, admirers followed.

Unlike the other heiresses, I didn’t wear heavy makeup, wasn’t skilled at socializing, and preferred to keep to myself.

I only dared to steal glances at him from afar—over a book, across a crowded banquet hall.

When he was twenty, an earthquake struck while he was watching a play. The theater collapsed, and he was injured, slipping into a coma.

I was the doctor assigned to care for him.

Fortunately, his injuries weren’t serious, though he lost all memory of the events before the quake.

When he woke up, the first person he saw was me.

He pulled me into a sudden embrace. “You saved me, didn’t you? Without you, I would’ve died…”

I froze, flustered, and quickly waved my hands, insisting it wasn’t that serious—it was my duty as a doctor.

But the very next day, Xavier announced to everyone that he would marry me.

People struggled just to catch a glimpse of him, yet he wanted to see me eight times a day.

He despised waiting and early mornings, yet he insisted on driving me to and from the hospital daily, even preparing my meals himself.

We skied in the Alps and watched the Northern Lights in Iceland.

He flew to Switzerland, spent a billion dollars to buy a rough pink diamond, and spent months designing an engagement ring for me.

My long-hidden crush suddenly returned, and I felt as if I were living in a dream.

Our families had already planned a marriage alliance, and since we were in love, we quickly held a grand wedding.

We became the golden couple of New York’s social circles.

Every time he looked at me with that deep affection, I felt God had blessed me—allowing true love to blossom in a marriage of convenience.

But dreams always end.

On our second wedding anniversary, our friends booked a hotel to celebrate.

Xavier arrived late. When everyone urged him to drink the nuptial wine, he sat still, his face dark.

I squeezed his hand, asking softly what was wrong.

The next second, he shoved me away, splashing red wine all over my face.

“Nina, are you comfortable sitting in this stolen seat as Mrs. Spencer? How dare you celebrate here?!”

His voice was colder than the wine, his eyes brimming with mockery and loathing.

Gasps filled the room. My face burned painfully, my eyes swelling shut.

My carefully chosen gown was drenched in red. I stared at him in confusion and disbelief.

How could Xavier, who once knew me so well, forget my severe allergy to alcohol?

He showed no remorse—only threw a stack of photos at my face.

“The person who saved me that day wasn’t you. You played me for a fool. All this—just to marry into the Spencer family and lift your own.”

"If you hadn’t taken the credit and made me mistake you for someone else, Lily wouldn’t have missed her best chance to treat her legs because of poverty—and she wouldn’t be in a wheelchair now!"

"So what if you had an allergic reaction? You deserved it for ruining your own face!"

I stared blankly at the photos of the delicate girl in the wheelchair.

A faint unease crept into my chest. I felt that I had truly made a mistake.

I lay in the hospital for two days, and Xavier never appeared.

Eventually, I learned everything from a private investigator.

On the day of the theater collapse, a massive crystal chandelier had fallen toward Xavier, who was there as a sponsor.

A ballet dancer named Lily Parker pushed him out of the way, breaking both her legs in the process.

If not for her, he would have died on the spot.

I heard she was his junior in school and had secretly admired him for years, too insecure to confess her feelings.

Until a recent encounter, they rekindled their bond—and they finally confessed to each other.

Everything became clear.

He had never been looking for me.

For the first time, I thought of divorce.

But fate mocked me—because the doctor said I was two months pregnant.

Grandpa Charles and my parents were overjoyed.

They told me that all couples fight, that I should think of the child and give him a complete family.

Grandpa Charles even planned a family banquet to celebrate and ease the tension between us.

For the child’s sake—and for the love I couldn’t let go of—I agreed.

But Xavier didn’t care.

He brought Lily, both dressed in matching designer outfits, and boldly sat in my seat.

Ignoring his grandfather’s furious expression, he only asked Lily gently what she wanted to eat.

Lily looked at me nervously and whispered, “Xavier, can I really sit here? Won’t it upset your wife…?”

“Heh, a thief has no right to be upset.”

The words hit harder than a slap.

Ignoring the awkward glances around me, I forced a smile, said I wasn’t feeling well, and hurried upstairs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him kiss Lily’s forehead, and my heart clenched painfully.

Then came Grandpa Charles’s angry shout—and I fell down the stairs.

Blood pooled beneath me. I tried to scream, but no sound came out.

Before I lost consciousness, I saw Xavier rushing toward me.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in the hospital.

Xavier sat beside my bed, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, as though he hadn’t slept.

Remembering the fall, a fragile hope flickered inside me.

Was he worried about me?

But his next words shattered that illusion.

“The child is gone—but it’s for the best. A bastard born of lies shouldn’t have existed anyway.”

Once, during our honeymoon, he whispered sweetly in my ear, begging me to give him a daughter just like me.

Now, with his indifference and cruelty, something inside me broke completely.

Tears streamed down my face as I shouted hoarsely, “Why did you do this to me?”

Xavier calmly straightened his collar, his tone dripping with mockery.

“Isn’t this your own fault? The moment you stole someone else’s credit, you should’ve expected this.”

I collapsed back onto the bed, watching helplessly as Lily’s call pulled him away.

Touching my empty belly, I wept uncontrollably.

But I truly didn’t know anything.

As a doctor, I had only done my duty to save my patient.