My Terminal Diagnosis, His Cruel Divorce

Adaline pushed open the heavy walnut door of the Manhattan penthouse. The freezing rain from the street still clung to her trench coat, seeping through the fabric and chilling her skin. A sudden, violent cramp seized her stomach. She bent forward, her breath hitching as a wave of nausea washed over her. She desperately clutched the damp piece of paper hidden deep in her coat pocket. The paper that confirmed she had six months left to live.

She raised her head, fighting the acid burning her throat. The penthouse was mostly dark, illuminated only by the city lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Gerard stood there. His back was to her. His tailored suit was immaculate, completely untouched by the storm outside.

Adaline parted her dry lips. She wanted to tell him about the hospital. She wanted him to turn around and hold her.

Before she could form a single word, Gerard turned. His eyes were flat, devoid of any warmth. He did not ask why she was soaked. He did not ask why she was pale and trembling. He simply picked up a thick file from the Italian leather coffee table and tossed it.

The heavy stack of papers slid across the smooth surface and fell off the edge, landing right at Adaline's wet boots.

The bold black letters on the crisp white paper glared up at her. Divorce Agreement.

An invisible hand wrapped around Adaline's throat, squeezing until her lungs burned for air. Her breathing stopped entirely.

Gerard reached up and loosened his tie. His voice was steady, a stark contrast to the roaring thunder outside. "Kena is back. Her condition is worsening. I do not have time to play this game with you anymore. We are ending this marriage."

The room spun. The floor beneath Adaline felt like it was giving way. Thirteen years. She had loved this man in secret for thirteen years, long before the marriage contract, long before he became the CEO of the Crosby empire. Now, all of it was reduced to a joke. She dug her fingernails into her palms, welcoming the sharp sting of her own skin breaking. It was the only way to stay standing.

She found her voice, though it sounded like broken glass. "We made a promise to your grandfather. You cannot just end this."

Gerard let out a low, mocking laugh. "Do not use my grandfather as a shield. We both know why you signed that contract two years ago. You wanted the Crosby wealth. You got what you wanted. Now it is time to leave."

His words hit her like a bucket of ice water poured directly over her head. The accusation of greed shattered her remaining pride. The terminal diagnosis in her pocket was crushed into a tight ball under her trembling fingers. She would rather die than show him that piece of paper now.

Gerard took a step forward. He pulled a silver Montblanc pen from his inner pocket and held it out to her. The cold metal gleamed in the dim light.

Adaline looked at the pen, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She did not take it. She tilted her head up, searching his dark eyes for a single trace of the warmth they had shared over the last two years. She looked for the man who sometimes covered her with a blanket when she fell asleep on the sofa. She found nothing but pure annoyance.

Gerard pulled his hand back. He lifted his wrist and checked his Patek Philippe watch. "I need to be at the hospital. Kena is waiting for me. I am not going to waste my night arguing with you."

The name hit Adaline right in the chest. Kena. The woman he thought he owed his life to. Adaline took a sudden step backward, her heel catching the edge of the entryway rug. She lost her balance and crashed into the tall ceramic vase resting against the wall.

The vase tipped over and shattered against the marble floor. The loud crash echoed through the empty living room.

Gerard frowned. A flash of deep disgust crossed his face.

Adaline dropped to her knees. Her vision blurred with unshed tears. She reached out to gather the broken pieces. A sharp edge sliced deep into her index finger. Dark red blood welled up instantly, dripping down and staining the pristine white rug beneath her.

Gerard shifted his weight. His body moved forward on pure instinct, his hand reaching out toward her bleeding finger.

Then, his phone rang.

It was a soft, melodic tune. The custom ringtone he had set exclusively for Kena.

Gerard froze. He pulled his hand back as if he had been burned. He reached into his pocket and answered the call without a second of hesitation.

His voice changed completely. The coldness vanished, replaced by a gentle, soothing tone that Adaline had never heard directed at her. "I am on my way. Do not cry. I will be right there."

Adaline stayed on her knees. She listened to him comfort another woman while her blood soaked into the carpet. Her heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice. The tears she had been fighting finally broke free, falling hot and heavy onto the back of her bleeding hand.

Gerard ended the call. He glanced down at the blood on the floor with a blank expression. "Tell the housekeeper to clean this up tomorrow morning."

He grabbed his dark wool coat from the chair and walked toward the door. He brushed past Adaline's shoulder without slowing down, bringing a rush of cold air with him.

Adaline stood up. Her legs shook, but she forced herself to turn around. "Gerard."

He stopped with his hand on the brass doorknob. He did not look back.

"In the thirteen years you have known me," she asked, her voice raw and completely broken. "Did you ever love me? Even for a single second?"

The silence in the room was deafening. Gerard stood perfectly still for a moment. Then, he spoke to the door.

"It was a transaction, Adaline. Do not entertain unrealistic fantasies."

The heavy door slammed shut. The vibration rattled the walls and drained the last ounce of strength from Adaline's body. She collapsed onto the floor, sitting right in the middle of the broken porcelain.

She pulled her hand out of her pocket. The crumpled hospital diagnosis was stained with her own blood. She stared at the words. Advanced Stomach Cancer. A low, agonizing sob tore out of her throat. She pressed her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle the sound of her own despair in the empty apartment.

Another violent cramp ripped through her stomach. The pain was blinding. She curled into a tight ball on the rug, gasping for air. Cold sweat soaked through her clothes, making her shiver violently. There was no one here to help her. There was no one to call.

Her phone vibrated on the floor. The screen lit up the dark space. It was a text from her best friend, Clara. "Did you get the test results back? Is everything okay?"

Adaline stared at the glowing screen. Her fingers were stiff and covered in dried blood. She typed slowly. "Everything is completely normal."

She dropped the phone. She grabbed the edge of the heavy sofa and pulled herself up. Her joints ached, but she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. She walked into the bathroom and flipped the light switch.

She looked at the mirror. Her face was as pale as a ghost. Dark circles bruised the skin under her eyes. She looked like a woman who was already dead.

She turned on the faucet. She scooped up handfuls of freezing water and splashed them violently against her face. The shocking cold numbed her skin and cleared the fog in her head. She needed to stay awake. She needed to keep whatever dignity she had left.

Adaline turned off the water. She grabbed a towel and dried her face. She walked back out into the living room and picked up the divorce agreement from the floor.

She flipped to the last page. Gerard had already signed it. His signature was bold, aggressive, and final.

Adaline took a deep breath. The despair in her eyes slowly hardened into a layer of solid ice. She did not reach for a pen. Instead, she walked over to the console table, opened the top drawer, and threw the papers inside. She slammed the drawer shut. She was not going to let him dictate the end of her life. She would finish this on her own terms.