Phil's POV
Hazel looked at me with sincerity in her eyes.
But seeing the cake in her hands, a bitter smile crept into my lips.
It was the one in Glenn’s hospital room I had seen earlier.
So much for a specially bought gift—it was just his leftovers.
So much for a happy marriage—it was nothing but a lie.
While I was lost in thought, Hazel reached for my hand and rested her head gently on my shoulder.
“Phil, you don’t know how happy I am,” she murmured. “Once you’ve fully recovered, let’s have a baby. I promise I’ll be good to you and our child for the rest of my life.”
Hearing that, I could figure out if that was out of love or guilt and some kind of compensation for what she did and would still do to me.
As I no longer knew what to say, I just muttered something about being tired and subtly moved her away.
Later that day, as soon as we got home, she received a text message and rushed out in a hurry.
Seizing that chance, I went into her study.
The bookshelves, her computer—everything was filled with research on kidney failure treatments.
Didn't ever cross in my mind that this proud, untouchable woman would have humbled herself, begged, and pleaded just for a man’s survival.
And unfortunately, it wasn’t me.
After her table, I moved to the safe. But instead of holding company secrets, it held notebooks filled with details about Glenn.
[Glenn has a weak stomach. Meals should be light on oil and salt. No spice.]
[Glenn loves roses. The Rose Manor in the countryside will be finished by the end of the year. I hope he’ll like it.]
[Sweet food makes people happy. Since Glenn studied in France before, French pastries should suit his taste.]
Reading the notebook, I learned she had spent millions to buy him a luxury watch and poured her heart into building him a dream estate.
Page after page—everything was about him.
Not a single word about me.
The love I’d cherished so much wasn’t even a fraction of what she felt for him.
I sat in silence for a long time, and then, tears streaming down my face, I made a call.
“Hello, I need to arrange a staged death. A car accident. Three days from now. Make it as brutal as possible.”
After discussing the details, I sent them the hospital footage I’d recorded, which they'd released after my fake death.
Following that, I printed out a divorce agreement and waited for Hazel to come home.
However, she didn’t. Even by noon the next day, I still hadn’t seen her.
Just as I was about to call her, I saw her on TV.
[Miss Hazel Trivett of the Trivett Corporation walked the aisle of Washington National Cathedral on her knees to pray for the safety of a loved one.]
The camera then zoomed in on her grazed knees.
Despite people trying to stop her, she kept going—murmuring her prayer with every step, her devotion unwavering. She even bought a lucky charm, which was exclusively obtained from the church.
When a reporter interviewed her, she smiled through the pain and stated, "As long as the person I love is safe and happy, I’m willing to give up everything.”
The moment the broadcast aired, my phone exploded with messages.
[Damn, you’ve only been married a short time, and she’s already doing this for you? If you two have a kid, she’ll probably worship the ground you walk on.]
[I heard she invested tens of millions into the hospital to make sure you got the best treatment. She really loves you, man.]
[Phil, you lucky bastard. You might just be the happiest man alive.]
Staring at my screen, I only felt nothing but disgust.
Once, I might’ve thought I was the happiest man alive too.
But now?
I finally understood everything.
That love—her devotion, her sacrifice—it had never belonged to me.
I was just a pathetic tool, decorating the grand love story of Hazel and Glenn.
Deleting the messages, I grabbed the divorce papers and headed to the hospital.
