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The Story of Wendy Yaeger

Wendy Yaeger is battling terminal liver cancer, yet her husband remains heartlessly devoted to his manipulative secretary. After being forced to endure physical agony and coerced into a dangerous blood transfusion for his mistress, Wendy demands a steep financial price for her suffering. Amidst false accusations of causing a car accident and constant disdain from her spouse, she seeks a divorce to find peace before she dies. However, her husband refuses to let her go, mistaking her terminal illness for a desperate plea for attention.
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Chapter 4

Luke choked up slightly. He coldly scrutinized me from head to toe before letting out a chuckle. "Wendy, have you gotten addicted to faking your illness? Was he the one helping you forge your records?

"Quit messing around. I don't have time for your performances. You're not convincing at all. Who would check into the hospital with dyed hair and a pink cat-ear hat?"

He seemed convinced that I was just putting on an act to make Cassidy jealous. His smug smile was full of certainty as he warned, saying, "Don't use something as low as a divorce to get my attention. You're in no position to negotiate with me."

Matt's face flushed. He was about to speak up when I quickly intervened, saying, "Exactly. I'm faking it!"

Luke nodded in satisfaction. Then, he walked off with his arm wrapped around Cassidy. "Enough with the drama and go home. I'll get you a gift for our anniversary."

Baffled, Matt looked at me. "That was Luke? I'm not seeing things, right? Why did he treat you like that?"

Back in university, our relationship had been loud and proud. Naturally, everyone in our faculty knew of our story.

I shook my head and simply said, "Matt, I'm tired. I want to nap."

Before leaving, Matt gently ruffled my hair. "Alright."

When I got into the bed, I pulled the blanket over my head and cried my heart out.

I had to admit that Cassidy's words had genuinely hurt my heart.

She said I looked like a witch—she wasn't wrong. After all, people with late-stage liver cancer did get dull, yellowish skin.

I was totally shattered. I just wanted to grab her hair and give her a huge slap.

After I cried myself to sleep, I soon woke up again to go to the toilet. When I got out of bed, my legs were still quite weak. I touched my forehead—the temperature had gone up again.

Dazed and groggy, I wandered out toward the bathroom. As I turned a corner, I bumped into someone and collapsed onto the floor.

I had lost ten pounds after just a week of being hospitalized, and the fall had knocked the wind out of me. Even my wig shifted out of place.

As I adjusted it, I heard a trembling voice in front of me, saying, "Wendy…"

I looked up, and my eyes instantly reddened. "Sasha."

Sasha coldly stared at me. She wanted to ignore me, but she couldn't bring herself to walk away either. In the end, she said, "I didn't expect our reunion to be like this—with you looking like a mess."

I gave her a gentle smile. I didn't blame her—after all, I had said some pretty harsh words before I'd left the country.

"How have you been, Sasha?" I asked.

"Pretty good," she replied. Then, she jeered, "I thought you would live the life after ditching us poor peasants. Turns out… Hah!"

As I observed Sasha's expression, my tears instantly welled up. Aggrieved, I pouted and said, "Sasha, I haven't been doing well at all over these years. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" I couldn't stop sobbing as I mumbled my apologies.

Startled, Sasha rushed to my side and helped me up. As she wiped away my tears, her own eyes turned red too. "Don't cry, Wendy. Slowly tell me everything."