My husband's childhood sweetheart is gravely ill. She says her only wish is to die in his arms. So, she boldly moves into our marital home.

I demand an explanation for this, but my husband only snaps at me. "Why are you holding this against her when she already has one foot in the grave? Can't you be more magnanimous?"

I sneer at that. Half a month later, the paparazzi catch me coming and going from Novak Group's heir's villa.

My husband demands an explanation with bloodshot eyes. I imitate his previous response. "Why are you holding this against him? Can't you be more magnanimous?"

I just returned home from a business trip. As soon as I opened the door, I was surprised to see my husband, Harlan Flores, cooking in the kitchen.

Before I could say anything, my eyes were drawn to a woman in a striking red dress on the couch. Noticing the commotion at the entrance, the woman shifted her gaze from Harlan in the kitchen to me.

The moment she saw me, she stood up, walked over, and extended her hand, smiling. "Hi, Waverly. I'm Tamsin Jones, a childhood friend of Harlan's."

Hearing her introduction, I nodded knowingly before shaking her outstretched hand.

"Hello. Please have a seat."

As I walked to the couch and sat down, something about her seemed familiar, prompting me to take a second look. In an instant, I remembered where I had seen her—on my wedding day with Harlan.

She had sat in the audience back then. Her face was as pale as snow, and she had tears in her eyes as she looked at Harlan with deep sorrow.

Before I could exchange pleasantries with her, Harlan emerged from the kitchen carrying two light dishes and placed them on the dining table.

He didn't seem to notice that I was back from my trip. Without so much as glancing at me or Tamsin on the couch, he said, "Tammy, come eat. I made light dishes that you can enjoy."

After speaking, he turned around. He wore a smile, and his gaze was fixed directly on the woman beside me.

His eyes shifted slightly the next moment and finally landed on me sitting on the couch. I could see the shock in his eyes. It was as if he hadn't expected me to return so soon from my trip.

A hint of unease flashed across his expression. "When did you get back? Why didn't you let me know?"

I waved my phone. "I sent you a message this afternoon."

He walked back into the kitchen, grabbed an extra set of tableware, and replied dismissively, "Oh, maybe I didn't notice. Come and eat."

Tamsin, beside me, stood up first and walked to the dining table. Before she could pull out a chair, Harlan quickly put down the utensils in his hands and helped her with the chair.

I felt an inexplicable sense that something was off as I watched their interaction, though I couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

As I took a seat at the dining table, I glanced at the two light dishes on the table and suddenly lost my appetite. Still, I couldn't show my displeasure with a guest present, so I forced myself to take a couple of bites.

Something suddenly occurred to me. I glanced around the room, but I didn't see who I was looking for. An uneasy feeling began to grow.

I turned to Harlan and asked, "Harlan, where's Henrietta?"

He was serving food to Tamsin and responded to my question with a hint of impatience. "I fired her."

I frowned, placing my utensils lightly on the table before asking, "Why?"

Henrietta Hall was a housekeeper I had hired through an agency. She was diligent, thorough, polite, and maintained proper boundaries. Even her cooking was excellent, and she was good at making spicy dishes that I loved.

I had invested a lot of time, effort, and money to poach her from another family. Now, Harlan had dismissed her without an explanation. Anger flared within me.

But Harlan's expression remained indifferent as he replied disdainfully and arrogantly, "She's just a housekeeper. I have the authority to handle her as I see fit."

Tamsin chimed in shyly, "Well, Waverly, it's just that I'll be staying here long-term. Having an outsider around feels inconvenient, so—"

Before she could finish, I interrupted her. "You're staying here long-term? What do you mean?"

Her eyes darted to Harlan for help. He then rose to his feet, walked to the living room, and retrieved a medical report before placing it in front of me.

The report contained the words "Late-stage stomach cancer".

Before I could take a closer look at the medical report, Tamsin suddenly covered her mouth and ran toward the bathroom, looking extremely unwell.

Harlan quickly grabbed some tissues and rushed to her side to gently pat her back.

His gaze was filled with pity as he stood beside her. "Now you know, don't you? Tamsin is in the late stages of cancer. Her only wish is to die in my arms.

"We've been close since childhood. I couldn't refuse her request."

It was only then that I realized Tamsin's intentions weren't as simple as wanting to die in Harlan's arms.

As I held the report, I looked at the messy data on it and asked, "How can you be so sure that she actually has cancer? Couldn't this report be forged?

"Even if she does have cancer, why does she need to die in your arms? Have you forgotten that you're married now?"

Perhaps my bluntness was too much, as Tamsin immediately looked aggrieved. She was on the verge of tears as she said, "Waverly, how could you say something like that? How could I joke about my own life?"

Seeing this, Harlan quickly pulled Tamsin into his arms, comforting her softly. His open display of pity for her broke my heart completely.

Then he turned to glare at me with anger. "Don't go too far! She's already on her deathbed, yet you're still holding a grudge? Can't you be more generous?"

I felt a chill run through me. My own husband was speaking to me so harshly, all for the sake of another woman.

We had been married for two years, and I had heard plenty of whispers and rumors during that time.

People said Harlan had a childhood friend overseas who had been battling illness for years. They said he had always given her the kind of love and care no one else could match.

The two were so close that they shared the same cup to drink from, slept in the same bed, and even owned countless matching outfits.

My best friend, Colleen Caddell, had once warned me, "This childhood friend of his isn't that simple. You need to be careful."

At the time, I dismissed her concerns. No matter how close they were, Harlan and I were married. I thought that even if this woman shared a deep bond with Harlan, she wouldn't dare act so blatantly in front of me.

But that day, I finally understood just how manipulative this woman could be. I had no desire to stay any longer as I watched their display of affection.

I grabbed my car keys from the table, my expression cold, and walked out the door.

Before I left, I heard Tamsin's soft, pitiful voice saying, "Waverly's upset. You should go and comfort her. I'll be fine here…"

Harlan's voice, however, was cold as he replied, "Let her be mad. Who's going to coddle her bad temper? She's just always storming off…"

As I sat in my car, I called Henrietta. She answered the call quickly, and I could hear her trying to hold back her tears even though she barely spoke.

I assured her, "As long as I'm around, no one can fire you from this house."

When I arrived at my mother-in-law, Cordelia Larsen's, home, the dishes were just being set on the table.

Seeing my red, swollen eyes as I walked in, she looked shocked and immediately pulled me to sit beside her on the couch.

"Waverly, why are you here? You're back from your trip already? Have you eaten?

"Your eyes are all red. Did Harlan bully you?"

When I heard her kind and concerned questions, the tears I had been holding back spilled over uncontrollably. She turned to the housekeeper, asked for an extra set of tableware, and had the kitchen prepare a spicy dish for me.

While the meal was being prepared in the kitchen, she sat patiently beside me. With the gentleness of a mother, she asked me what had happened.

After I explained everything that had happened, Cordelia's expression shifted. The comforting smile on her face gradually disappeared, replaced by a furrowed brow and a subtle hint of worry.

I understood, of course. After all, what mother wouldn't side with her own son?

It was only natural that she wouldn't want to intervene. Still, I had so much bottled up inside that I needed to vent to someone.

She opened her mouth as if to speak but stopped herself and shook her head instead. Just as I was about to ask for her opinion, the steaming spicy dish was brought to the table.

We sat at the dining table in silence, and an unspoken tension hung in the air. The meal was unpleasant, leaving me questioning if I had said something I shouldn't have.

Finally, just as the meal was coming to an end, Cordelia broke the silence. She began to say, "Henrietta being dismissed was indeed wrong of Harlan, but…

"Waverly, Tamsin and Harlan grew up together. Her parents entrusted her to our family before they passed away. We've always been responsible for her.

"With her current situation, I truly feel heartbroken for her. You know that your father-in-law has spent all these years abroad with her for her treatments. And besides, she's only staying for a short while.

"Why not just turn a blind eye to it? After all, she only has a few months left…"

As Cordelia spoke, my chewing slowed, and the spicy dish that had been so delicious moments ago suddenly tasted like ash.

To say I wasn't hurt would be a lie. I would have preferred her to remain silent rather than try to persuade me to be magnanimous.

I pressed my lips together tightly, suppressing my disappointment until it faded into numbness. After a long pause, I forced a weak smile to avoid looking as defeated as I felt.

"Alright," was all I could muster out.

After dinner, Cordelia asked if I wanted to stay the night. I politely declined and drove back to Harlan and my marital home.

By then, the lights on the first floor were all off. Only the light in the second-floor bedroom, which Harlan and I shared, was still on.

A sense of foreboding gripped me.

I opened the door and went straight upstairs to the bedroom without even taking off my shoes, wanting to confirm whether my suspicions were correct.

As I opened the door, I saw Harlan reaching to turn off the lamp. The wardrobe blocked most of my view of the bed, but as I stepped closer, the scene slowly came into view.

Before I reached the foot of the bed, a muffled female voice came from the bed. "Why haven't you turned off the lights yet?"

I could no longer contain my fury. I grabbed my handbag and hurled it toward the bed. "What the hell are you doing in my bed?"

The leather bag landed heavily on the bed, spilling my makeup items across the mattress.

The woman let out a muffled grunt of pain. Then she peeked her head out from under the blanket. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her face showed a pained expression.

"Waverly… You hit my stomach… It hurts…"

Harlan didn't even have time to reprimand me. He immediately turned on the bedroom's overhead light and pulled back the blanket to check on her.

After a moment, he turned to me and shouted, "Are you crazy? What if you injured her? This is a human life we're talking about!"

Blinded by rage, I grabbed whatever I could and threw it at Tamsin on the bed. "What gives you the right to sleep in my bed?

"Get off!"

Seeing my outburst, Harlan climbed off the bed and stormed toward me. He reached me in just a few steps, and he slapped me hard across the face.

"Shut up!"