My skin burned. The thermometer on the nightstand read 103 degrees.
Small footsteps approached the bed. My seven-year-old son, Leo, stopped at the edge of the mattress. He stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes.
"Mom, are you dying?" he asked.
I forced a dry smile, ignoring the ache in my throat. "Why? Are you going to miss me?"
Leo shook his head. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He smoothed it out on the blanket right over my chest.
*Property Transfer Agreement.*
"Before you die, transfer the house to Aunt Serena," Leo said.
The smile froze on my face. "What did you say?"
"Dad didn't have a house back then, so they separated," Leo explained. He pointed a small finger at the dotted line at the bottom of the page. "If you give her the house, Dad can marry Aunt Serena after you're gone. Then she can be my new mom."
My chest tightened. I stared at the boy I had carried for nine months. The boy I stayed up with through countless fevers, rocking him until my arms went numb. Ten years of marriage to Julian Mercer. Ten years trapped in this hollow mansion, sacrificing my youth to raise his child.
And my son wanted me dead to make room for his father's first love.
Serena never disciplined him. She bought him expensive toys and fed him candy before dinner. I was the one who forced him to do his homework. To Leo, the strict mother was a nuisance. The pretty aunt was perfect.
"Did your father tell you to bring this to me?" I asked.
"No. I want Aunt Serena to live here," Leo replied. He pushed a pen toward my hand. "Sign it."
The fever raged through my veins, but my heart turned to ice. Every ounce of love, patience, and devotion I held for this family vanished in an instant.
I closed my eyes. "Get out."
Leo huffed. "You're always so mean."
He snatched the paper and stomped out of the room, leaving the door wide open.
Hours later, the front entrance clicked unlocked.
I dragged myself out of bed. My legs trembled as I walked into the kitchen. I boiled water and cooked a bowl of chicken noodles, setting it on the marble counter just as Julian walked in.
"I made dinner," I said.
Julian didn't even glance at the bowl. He pulled at his tie, loosening the silk knot. "I ate already."
He walked past me. A strong wave of gardenia perfume hit my nose. Serena's signature scent.
"Who did you see tonight?" I asked.
Julian stopped. He turned around, his jaw rigid. "You're overstepping your boundaries, Clara."
"I'm your wife. You smell like her."
"Don't start this tonight," he snapped. "I have work to do."
He marched down the hall and slammed the study door shut. He never looked at my pale face. He never noticed I was sick.
Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and bitter. I stared at the steaming bowl of chicken noodles. Ten years. A completely dead marriage.
Two weeks later, the Mercer corporate anniversary banquet was in full swing.
I stood near the champagne tower, a glass untouched in my hand. Across the room, Julian leaned against a marble pillar. Serena stood right beside him, her hand resting intimately on his forearm. They laughed, leaning close, sharing a private world that I was never allowed to enter.
I set my glass down and walked straight toward them.
Before I could reach Julian, a small body blocked my path. Leo glared up at me, his fists clenched.
"Don't yell at her!" Leo shouted.
The music played on, but nearby guests turned their heads.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"You don't understand Dad at all," Leo declared loudly. "You're not gentle like Aunt Serena. You just make everyone miserable!"
Whispers erupted around us. Julian frowned, finally noticing my presence. Serena offered a fake, apologetic smile, stepping slightly behind Julian as if I were a threat.
"Clara, don't make a scene," Julian warned. He placed a protective hand on Leo's shoulder. "He is just a kid."
I looked at my son, fiercely protecting another woman. I looked at my husband, shielding his former lover.
The last thread snapped. No anger. No tears. Just absolute clarity.
"Let's get a divorce, Julian," I said.
Julian stared at me, his eyes narrowing. "What did you just say?"
"I want a divorce."
Julian scoffed. He adjusted his cuffs, entirely unbothered. "Fine. If you want to throw a fit and embarrass us in public, we'll divorce. Don't expect me to beg you to stay."
"I don't," I replied.
The lawyer's office was quiet the next morning.
I signed the final page and pushed the heavy folder across the mahogany desk.
"Mrs. Mercer, are you sure?" the lawyer asked, adjusting his glasses. "You are leaving almost all the marital assets. You're only taking your personal accounts."
"I'm sure," I said.
Julian sat across from me, his expression unreadable. "You're playing a dangerous game, Clara. You won't last a month without my money."
"Keep the money, Julian. Keep the house." I stood up and grabbed the handle of my single suitcase.
Leo sat in the waiting room outside the office doors. He watched me roll the luggage across the carpet.
"Are you leaving?" Leo asked.
"Yes."
"Good," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't come back and bother our family of three."
I paused. I looked down at the boy I once loved more than life itself. There was no warmth left in my chest for him.
"I won't," I told him.
I walked out the glass doors and stepped into the bright afternoon sun. For the first time in a decade, I could breathe.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. An unknown number flashed on the screen.
I swiped to answer. "Hello?"
"Clara," a deep, unfamiliar voice said. "I hear you're finally free. We need to talk about what Julian is really hiding."
