“Smack!”
I backhanded Malcolm across the face.
“My real mistake was believing your promises. Seven wasted years.”
“It's over, Malcolm. I want a divorce.”
I swallowed the swarming ache in my chest and turned to leave.
Without warning, a shove from behind sent me crashing stomach-first into the edge of the wall.
The old wound, the one I'd gotten shielding his mother from a knife, screamed to life. The pain buckled my legs and I crumpled to the floor, cold sweat soaking through the back of my shirt.
“Seems I've spoiled you too much. That's why you act like a lunatic, slapping me and my woman. You——”
His tirade cut off the moment he saw the state I was in. He crouched down, something uncertain flickering across his face.
“I just wanted you to get on your knees. I didn't mean to hurt you. Is it your stomach?”
His palm settled over my abdomen on instinct, fingers kneading with a gentleness that was practiced, familiar.
Every time the weather turned gray and wet, the scar that had once cut down to bone would throb without mercy.
Malcolm had taught himself massage therapy just to ease my pain, because he couldn't stand to watch me suffer.
The same tenderness that once gave me warmth now made my skin crawl.
I shoved his hand away：“Worry about yourself first. I'd suggest you get a blood test too, because there's a good chance you're already infected.”
“Enough!”
Malcolm's gaze went dark：“Whether Vivian is clean or not, I know better than anyone. Shut your mouth.”
“Ugh, babe, don't waste your breath on that old hag.” Vivian clung to his arm, all doe-eyed and pouting. “If she wants a divorce, let her have it. She's the one who can't have kids. She's the one at fault. Make her leave the marriage with nothing!”
I caught the greedy spark lighting up Vivian's eyes and let out a cold laugh.
“Oh, someone's leaving with nothing, alright. According to the prenuptial agreement, the party at fault is the one who cheated. That's Malcolm. And he's the one who walks away empty-handed.”
“You wouldn't dare.”
Malcolm glared at me.
I glared right back：“Try me.”
His answer was a kick driven by pure rage.
I hit the floor, arms curling around my stomach, face drained of color. Not a trace of pity remained on his. He only snarled：“I never knew you were this calculating. Have you been scheming to take my assets this whole time?”
A bitter, broken laugh scraped out of my throat：“You're the one who insisted on signing the prenup. You said it was my safety net. If you hadn't cheated, who could have used it against you?”
Time really was a cruel magician, twisting love beyond recognition.
Vivian seized the moment, stepping forward and raising her stiletto over my lower abdomen, ready to bring it down.
At the last possible second, a figure threw herself toward me.
A sharp voice rang out：“All of you, stop! Nobody lays a hand on a member of the Farley family!”
It was my mother-in-law. The woman who had loved me like her own daughter.
Vivian yanked her foot back in fright.
The wire-taut tension inside me snapped, and the tears I'd been holding back for so long finally fell.
But Rosalie Farley didn't so much as glance at me. She stepped right over my body, took Vivian's hands in hers.
“Vivian, sweetheart, you texted me that someone was bullying you, so I rushed right over to back you up. Now, who's the one with a death wish?”
Vivian's smugness returned in an instant. She pointed down at me, crumpled on the floor：“Her!”
I lifted my head, a wrecked mess, and through the blur of tears met my mother-in-law's ice-cold stare.
That was when it hit me. Malcolm's affair. She'd known all along.
The "Farley family member" she meant was Vivian.
It felt like cotton had been stuffed down my throat. When I finally spoke, my voice was barely a rasp：“……Why?”
I had saved Rosalie's life twice.
The first time, it was late-stage recurrent ovarian cancer. The surgery was so high-risk that I was the only surgeon in the world who could perform it. I stood at that operating table for sixteen straight hours before I pulled her back from the brink.
