He Chose The Mistress, She Signed Her Own Death Certificate

Following a night of intense passion, Olivia Stewart sank back onto the mattress, her strength spent. Dizziness suddenly overwhelmed her, causing the warm color in her cheeks to drain away into a ghostly, sickly pallor. This wasn't the typical post-intimacy fatigue; it was a profound, nauseating ache that churned deep within her gut. She gritted her teeth, her fingers surreptitiously clenching the medical report she had stashed beneath her pillow. "One year to live." The doctor's voice, chillingly clinical and detached, continued to ring in her ears. Callum Jackson, her husband, stepped away from her side. After showering and changing, he returned to the bedside composed once more, his usual aura of cool detachment restored—radiating the quiet authority of someone accustomed to being in command. Olivia bit down on her lip, pausing for a long moment as she struggled to find the right words to say. "I want a divorce." His voice broke the silence first, delivered in a flat, monotone voice devoid of any feeling. "What did you say?" Olivia stared at his striking features, her mind reeling as she wondered if she had heard him correctly. Callum's brow furrowed as he watched her. The heat of their earlier passion had vanished, replaced by an icy indifference that made her blood run cold. "Kaylee is terminally ill. She has one year left, and she wants to spend it with me." He paused, and then added, "I gave her my word." The room became heavy with a stifling silence. In the low light, their shadows stretched across the floor, driving a wedge between them. An agonizing sensation, as if her very heart were being shredded, tore through Olivia's chest. A terminal illness. The irony was suffocating; Olivia had also been given exactly twelve months to live. She had intended to confess tonight, clinging to the naive hope that her diagnosis might finally win her some of his affection or pity. Instead, her husband was ending their marriage to go and care for a different woman who was also dying. "And where does that leave me?" Olivia asked, her voice cracking with shock. "Callum, have I ever crossed your mind at all?" His brow pinched even tighter with mounting irritation. "I'm only honoring her dying request. We can just remarry in a year, so you aren't losing out. Olivia, you've got it all—the status, the money, and me. For once, just be the bigger person and let her have this." Each syllable he uttered felt like a blade twisting in Olivia's chest. The terminally ill woman Callum was referring to was Kaylee Taylor, who used to be Olivia's student. Olivia had personally sponsored the underprivileged girl through four years of college, moved by her fragile appearance and brilliant mind for medical research. Wanting to ensure Kaylee's potential wasn't squandered, Olivia mentored her at school and even set up her internship at Callum's firm, believing she had hand-picked a top-tier talent to help her husband's business. It had never crossed Olivia's mind that her husband would so quickly demand a divorce just to be with Kaylee. Olivia's heart throbbed with such intensity that she struggled for air. Her chest rose and fell sharply as she sank her teeth into her lip, desperate to maintain her composure. Images from a month ago flashed in her mind: Kaylee had sent a smug private message featuring a cozy photo of her and Callum on a business trip. In the shot, Kaylee looked glowing and perfectly healthy. Steeling herself, Olivia decided to push the issue. "Are you absolutely certain Kaylee is dying? Is it possible she might be..." "Olivia!" Callum's tone turned frigid. "If you're refusing the divorce, that's one thing, but don't you dare trash her name. Kaylee is a sweet and innocent girl; besides, who on earth would lie about having a terminal illness?" A stifling, somber tension filled the room. His face was a mask of pure annoyance. "I've laid it all out for you. Quit being so difficult and throwing around these nasty accusations." The shock hit her—had he really just accused that she was being nasty? Olivia gazed at Callum from just inches away—the man who had held her heart for eight years now looked like a complete, icy stranger. They had five years of history and three years of marriage between them. She had poured her entire soul into loving him. Even her own health issues were a direct result of the sacrifices she had made to support Callum's goals. Having lost his mother to a rare ailment as a boy, Callum had been haunted by the tragedy ever since; discovering a cure had eventually become his life's singular obsession. Ignoring the constant protests from the company's shareholders, he had sunk a massive fortune into finding a cure for that very disease. After two years of failure, he was completely at the end of his rope. To bring his ambition to fruition, Olivia—who had already stepped down from her university professorship—quietly made her way back to the institute's research lab. Immersing herself in the hazardous work, she ultimately succeeded in creating the cure and sent it anonymously to his company's laboratory. This line of drug research was incredibly hazardous. Despite her caution, she ended up being infected by the virus, yet she didn't feel any regret for her sacrifice. The bitter irony was that after giving everything up for his sake, she was now being handed a divorce. When he had to choose from Kaylee and his own wife, he had picked Kaylee without a second thought. Olivia shut her eyes in pain, her spirit completely crushed. "Fine. I'll give you the divorce. Just go ahead and draw up the papers."