The day my ex finally made it big, the doctor told me I had less than three months to live.

On TV, a reporter was interviewing James Larson.

“Mr. Larson, what drove you to success?”

James chuckled, but his eyes were misty.

“The biggest push? Probably when I was diagnosed with kidney disease eight years ago, and my ex walked out on me.”

“I’m grateful she didn’t marry me. That was the wake-up call I needed.”

After the interview, he called.

“Amelia Simmons, I made it. Do you regret it now?”

I rested a hand on the spot where my kidney used to be and let out a bitter laugh.

“I do. And I have cancer now. Happy?”

James sounded satisfied. “Serves you right.”

He never knew—I got cancer because I gave him my kidney all those years ago.

I decided to stop treatment—I couldn’t afford the crushing medical bills.

As I was checking out of the hospital, my attending doctor rushed over.

“Miss Simmons, you don’t have to leave. Someone covered your medical expenses.”

Stunned, I quickly asked who.

The doctor gestured toward the front desk. “Mr. Larson.”

I looked up and saw James Larson standing there.

The words slipped out automatically. “Hey, didn’t expect to see you here.”

I struggled to steady my emotions, my arms instinctively opening—just like every time we used to meet, reaching for a hug.

But before I could take a step, a stunning woman appeared behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Honey, who’s she?”

I froze, awkwardly lowering my arms.

James’ face twisted with disdain as he sneered, “This is my gold-digging ex, Amelia Simmons.”

The woman gave me an artificial smile and held out her hand.

“So you’re Miss Simmons? I hear James mention you all the time.”

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Lucy Miller, his wife.”

I stiffened but didn’t shake her hand. Instead, I gave James a blank nod.

Lucy grabbed my hand anyway—squeezing hard, nearly crushing my fingers.

Pain shot up my arm, my face contorting, but I didn’t make a sound.

James noticed something was off and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, biting back the pain as I glanced at my reddened fingers. “Nothing.”

Lucy finally let go, feigning innocence. “Oops, my bad. Forgot you’re sick.”

“I work out a lot—sometimes I don’t know my own strength.” She giggled, leaning into James.

James shot her an indulgent smile. “Enough. We’re in public.”

A sharp ache stabbed through my heart. I didn’t have the patience to watch them flaunt their love. Keeping my head down, I muttered, “I should go.”

“Thanks for the hospital bill. I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

Then I turned to leave, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

James, however, grabbed my arm, deliberately stopping me.

“Fifty thousand. How exactly do you plan to repay me?”

“With your barely two-thousand-a-month salary?”

I stiffened, unable to answer.

James towered over me, looking down with mockery in his eyes. “Want me to give you a way out?”

I forced a smile. “Sure.”

“Sell yourself.”

My fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms. But my lips curled into a smirk.

“Got connections, Mr. Larson?”

James was momentarily stunned. “What?”

I chuckled. “Why let money leave the family?”

His expression darkened instantly. Rage flashed across his face as he raised his hand—then slapped me.

The sharp sting spread across my cheek, but the bitterness in my heart hurt even more.

Still, I kept my tone light, almost teasing. “Of course. For the right price, I’ll do anything.”

James let out a breath, eyes filled with disappointment and contempt.

“You haven’t changed a bit. Same selfish, soulless woman from eight years ago.”

“You want to humiliate yourself? Fine. Tomorrow, come to my club. I’ll introduce you to some ‘resources.’”

I nodded without hesitation.

Lucy shot me a smug look, then clung tighter to James.

“Honey, you don’t mean that, right?” she cooed. “Why not just treat the fifty grand as charity and let her have it?”

“You spend more than that on a pair of shoes, and a single watch of yours is worth over five million.”

James didn’t even glance at her. Instead, he picked up a pen, scribbled on a piece of paper, and tossed it at me.

Then, finally, he looked at her. “That’s different.”

“You’re my wife. She’s just a heartless ex.”

I picked up the paper, my fingers tightening involuntarily.

Fifty thousand. Due in one month.

The ink was still fresh, but it might as well have been a death sentence.

How was I supposed to come up with fifty grand in such a short time?

Just as I was drowning in frustration, my friend, Susie Williams, called.

She knew I needed money and told me about a job selling liquor at a high-end club.

I skipped dinner and rushed straight to the address she sent me.

Only when I arrived did I realize—it was Rose Club, the most exclusive establishment in the city.

A place where the rich and powerful gathered.

The club sold luxury wines, some costing hundred grand per bottle. A single successful sale could earn me tens of thousands in commission. If the customers were generous, the service tips alone could be substantial.

If things went well, I’d only need to sell a few bottles to clear my debt to James.

I took a deep breath, composed myself, and stepped inside.

The manager handed me a few bottles of premium liquor and sent me to Room 5 to make a sale.

I knocked, pushed the door open—and froze.

James Larson.

He sat at the head of the table, the undeniable center of attention, surrounded by men of his status—wealthy elites, powerful figures.

Unlike the others, whose seats were occupied by glamorous escorts, he had Lucy by his side.

The moment I took in the scene, my first instinct was to turn and leave.

But Lucy spotted me first.

She strode over in her designer heels, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me inside.

“Miss Simmons, you’re here to sell liquor, aren’t you?”

I stammered, trying to pull away. “No, I— I walked into the wrong room.”

James’ cold, scrutinizing gaze swept over me.

“Wrong room?” His voice was laced with mockery. “You’re in a club uniform—how could you be mistaken?”

He leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable. “If you’re not here to sell liquor… then what? Selling yourself?”

Laughter erupted around the room.

Heat burned up my face.

I looked down, suddenly hyper-aware of my uniform—the plunging neckline, the way my skin peeked through the fabric.

I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to cover myself.

A lady eyed me, her tone dripping with mockery.

“First day on the job? If you wanna make it in this line of work, you better loosen up.”

“No one here likes a prude.”

As soon as she finished speaking, an older man suddenly walked over.

He ran a finger down my cheek, his tone sleazy.

“I like your type. You look… fresh.”

“How much for a night?”

Disgust crawled up my skin. I stepped back, dodging his touch.

“Show some respect, old man.”

His face darkened, and before I could react, a slap cracked across my cheek.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“You walk in here dressed like that and act all high and mighty?”

“And what did you just call me? Old man? You got a death wish?”

The force of the hit knocked me off balance. I stumbled and fell—right at James’ feet.

A sharp pain shot through my side, right where my kidney used to be.

I tasted blood before I saw it—a warm, metallic rush spilling from my mouth.

The man hesitated for a second. “What? You faking it? Trying to scam me?”

I gripped the edge of the couch and tried to pull myself up, waving him off.

But my body was too weak. My vision blurred, and the next thing I knew—I had collapsed into James’ lap.

Laughter rang out around the room.

“Oh, so that’s it.” The man sneered. “You’re holding out for Mr. Larson.”

“But come on, girl, take a look in the mirror. He’s rich, handsome, one of the biggest names in the city. You really think he’d pick you?”

James’ brows knitted together, his expression one of pure disgust.

“Get off me, Amelia Simmons.”

I forced myself upright, wobbling as I put space between us.

“Sorry, Mr. Larson,” I murmured. “I didn’t mean to.”

Lucy came over to steady me, but the look in her eyes was anything but kind.

“Oh, I believe you,” she cooed sweetly.

“You’re just sick. Desperate.”

“Why don’t we help her out?” She turned to James, resting a hand on his arm.

“How about we buy a bottle from her?”

“Wouldn’t even cost more than a pair of underwear you bought me.”

As she spoke, her fingers dug into my wrist—tightening like a vice.

A sharp pain shot up my wrist, and I couldn’t hold back a gasp. I struggled against her grip.

“Let go of me!”

Lucy suddenly grabbed my hand and shoved it hard against her body—then flung herself backward with a dramatic cry.

She crashed to the floor, her forehead slamming against the corner of the table.

Blood trickled down her face.

James bolted forward, catching her in his arms.

“Lucy! Are you okay? I’ll call a doctor.”

He was already dialing his assistant.

Lucy winced, playing up her injuries. But she put on a brave front. “It’s nothing… just a small cut. No need to make a fuss.”

Then, as if on cue, she glanced at me.

“Don’t blame Miss Simmons,” she added weakly. “She didn’t do it on purpose.”

James turned toward me, his expression dark and furious.

“Amelia! You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

I pressed a hand to my aching side and let out a bitter laugh.

“If I told you I didn’t, if I said Lucy set me up, would you believe me?”

His response was a slap.

The force snapped my head to the side, the taste of iron blooming in my mouth.

“I saw everything,” he spat. “You pushed her.”

“And now you have the audacity to play the victim?”

“Lucy was still kind enough to convince me to buy your liquor—she actually pitied you.” His voice dripped with disgust. “You don’t deserve an ounce of her sympathy.”

I didn’t bother explaining. What was the point? No matter what I said, he wouldn’t believe me.

I picked up the bottles and turned toward the door.

“Stop right there!”

James’ voice was sharp, commanding.

I froze, then turned back to face him. His expression was as cold as ice.

“What else, Mr. Larson?”

“Apologize to Lucy,” he ordered.

My fists clenched.

I knew that if I didn’t comply, I wasn’t walking out of this room.

A fresh wave of pain throbbed from my kidney.

What does it matter? I’m dying anyway. Why fight over my pride?

If an apology would make him happy, then fine.

I turned to Lucy, bowed, and said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

Lucy smiled in satisfaction, playing the role of a gracious host.

“Oh, Miss Simmons, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

Then she took the bottles from my hands.

“I’ll buy these.”

“I know times are tough for you, so think of it as a little help.”

“If you ever need anything, just ask us—don’t… lower yourself to this.”

I knew she was being condescending, but I still forced out a quiet thank you.

Then, without another word, I turned to leave.

But before I could take a step, James yanked me back, shoving me onto the couch.

“My wife just bought your liquor,” he said coldly. “Shouldn’t you drink with us?”

My head spun from the sudden movement. I gritted my teeth and whispered, “I’m sorry… I can’t drink.”

The doctors had been clear—if I wanted to live even a little longer, I had to avoid alcohol at all costs.

Lucy feigned concern. “James, maybe let it go? I heard she has cancer. Drinking might be bad for her.”

James let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

“Cancer? Seriously?”

“She probably just paid off some doctor to fake a diagnosis so she could scam me for money.”

Lucy sighed, pretending to be understanding. “Even if she did lie, I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“But you know, I should be grateful to her.” She turned to James with a sweet smile.

“If she hadn’t been so blind, I never would’ve had the chance to marry you.”

The room burst into jeers.

Disgusted glances turned my way.

“So you’re the gold-digging ex who dumped Mr. Larson?”

“I can’t stand people like you—heartless and shallow!”

“Come on, guys, let’s drink this scum under the table!”

The man I had rejected earlier grabbed a case of liquor and stalked toward me, his eyes dark with malice.

Egged on by his words, the others followed, forming a circle around me.

They grabbed bottles, laughing as they loomed closer.

Panic surged through me.

I turned to James, my breath hitching.

“Please—help me! I don’t want to die here!”