The Last Tulip Blooms Alone

The day I found out I was dying, I ran into my ex-husband—yeah, the richest guy in the country—and his three-months-pregnant wife.

He asked if I regretted leaving him when he got sick.

I just asked for twenty grand.

He told me I didn't deserve to live.

What he never knew?

Back then, when he was fighting leukemia, the only bone marrow match he had...

was me.

"Ms. Alden, without $50,000 and a marrow match, you've got maybe two weeks."

I clutched the paper Dr. Carter handed me—my death warrant in black ink.

Then I saw him.

Hemi Spencer. My ex-husband. Ten years gone. Now top of the Forbes list.

He was holding Julia Crook. She gripped an ultrasound like it meant something sacred.

The second he saw me, he froze. Then came that look—cold and cutting.

"What are you doing here?"

Same face. Just sharper. Like success had polished him clean.

"What, you forget how to talk?"

I hid the report behind my back. "What a coincidence. You're rich now. Spot me twenty grand?"

His stare didn't even twitch. "Elise Alden. You haven't changed. Still rotten to the core."

Julia leaned in, eyes full of fake sympathy. "So you're the ex-wife who bailed when he had leukemia? Twenty grand? That's not even one of my earrings."

He held her tighter, voice soft. "Glad I found you. And now we have our baby."

I smiled, barely, and turned before the tears could slip.

Then his hand grabbed my arm. "Don't you have anything to say to me?"

The needle marks on my arm pulsed. My body broke into sweat. I tried to pull away.

He let go. I dropped. Cracked my head on the floor.

Julia gasped. A bracelet slipped off her wrist.

My file hit the floor too. I snatched it before he could.

Blood ran down my face. I wiped it away. "Mr. Spencer, you made me fall. Asking for another ten grand doesn't sound crazy."

His rage snapped. He threw a card in my face. "Ten years and you're still the same. Faking a fall for money. There's thirty grand on that card. Should cover a grave. You don't deserve to live."

Then he turned gentle again, brushing Julia's hair like she was breakable. "Let's go pick out that million-dollar bracelet you wanted."

She nodded sweetly—then stepped on my hand as I reached for the card.

I bit back the pain and held on.

Then came the blood. Thick. From my throat.

Right. A grave.

Ten years ago, I gave Hemi my bone marrow.

But I couldn't afford the aftercare. The infection started there.

Now I'm counting days.

We knew each other from childhood. When his parents kicked him out, I took him in. Cooked for him. Kept him warm.

He used to blush when he said he'd never marry anyone but me.

He worked so hard for that promise. Four years, top of his class. Built a business from scratch.

The day he launched it, he proposed.