Chapter 3
I had no intention of keeping Charles in the dark.
After all, I was counting on him to handle both my divorce and my will.
It only made sense to tell him about my diagnosis as well.
I pulled up the photo of my medical report on my phone and showed it to him. "I have terminal brain cancer.
"I need to get this divorce finalized and my will locked down as soon as possible."
Charles took my phone from my hand.
The moment he processed what was on the screen, his hand trembled so violently that the phone slipped from his grip and clattered onto the floor.
By the time he gathered himself to pick it up, his face was completely bloodless.
Tears were spilling down his cheeks.
His reaction shocked me. He was a grown man, and I hadn't seen him shed a tear since we were kids.
"You're only in your twenties," he choked out, his lips quivering. "This can't be happening."
I offered him a tissue, amused by his reaction. "Hey, don't do this. I'm the one with the diagnosis, and I'm not crying."
Charles swallowed hard, unable to compose himself for several long minutes.
Watching him break down, I felt my own sadness creeping in.
I sighed. "I'm actually doing okay, but I feel incredibly guilty about my mom.
"She worked herself to the bone raising me on her own.
"I always planned to take care of her in her old age, and maybe give her a grandkid to keep her company."
Edward, of course, would never give me a child.
Because Charles was so distraught, it took us the entire morning to hammer out the details of the will and map out the divorce.
Before he left, I gave him one final reminder. "The main thing is finding airtight proof of Edward's affair with Grace.
"The more damning, the better. I'll show it directly to his father and grandfather."
Charles's face was dark, his eyes bloodshot and swollen.
He poured me a glass of water and bought lunch for me.
Sensing he was on the verge of a total breakdown, he quickly hired a caregiver to watch over me and slipped out.
I had forced myself to swallow a few bites while he was there, but the second he left, I put aside the food.
A splitting headache coupled with intense nausea made eating impossible.
The little food I had managed to swallow sat like lead in my stomach before churning violently.
I threw it all up, retching until tears streamed down my face.
Exhausted and weak, I lay back on the bed, desperate to catch my breath.
The moment my back hit the mattress, the door flew open with a violent crash.
The caregiver let out a startled shriek.
Edward stormed in, looking ready to commit murder.
He marched straight to my bedside, grabbed my arm, and yanked me up.
"Do you have to push me to my absolute limit, Lauren?" he roared, his voice dripping with venom.
He yanked me upright.
My vision swam, and my stomach did a violent flip.
I fought down the urge to throw up all over him.
Edward looked completely out of his mind.
He barked at the caregiver to get out, his fingers digging into my arm hard.
He hissed, "You sent your mother to my house to make a scene because you can't stand the fact that Grace is back, didn't you?
"I don't love you. I haven't seen Grace in seven years. Is it really such a crime for me to want to see her now?"
My heart sank.
My mom knew. She always had my back, and there was no way she'd let me be treated like trash.
Desperate to get to the Bennett estate to stop my mom, I tried to pry his hands off me.
But his grip was like iron, locking me in place.
He glared at me as if he wanted to tear me apart. "Grace spent seven years in exile.
"Are you really so malicious that you have to keep us apart forever?"
A sharp pain started throbbing in my head.
It escalated rapidly, feeling as though my skull was splitting in two.
My limbs began to shake, and my voice trembled through the agony. "Let me go. I have to go to my mom."
Edward scoffed, his grip tightening without a shred of mercy. "Why? Afraid your mother hasn't caused enough of a scene yet?
"Let's be real, Lauren. You didn't marry me out of some great love.
"You and your mother got exactly what you wanted from this marriage. Why won't you let me go?"
I froze for a moment, completely lost.
Edward was fully capable of marrying for convenience without a shred of affection.
But as for me? I would never have agreed to this marriage if I hadn't been head over heels in love with him.
He caught the confusion on my face, his expression hardening as he whipped out a stack of photos and hurled them at me. "You take me for an idiot?
"We weren't married six months before you were already huddling with Charles, plotting how to divorce me and take the Bennett family's money."
I stared in shock at the pictures scattering across the sheets.
They captured almost every single time Charles and I had met up over the last seven years.
The oldest shots dated back to the first six months of our marriage, like Edward said.
I racked my brain, dredging up memories from years ago until the truth finally clicked.
*****
Six years ago, Charles and I had talked about divorce, but not mine.
He was the one trying to end his marriage.
His firm was going under back then, and he didn't want to drag his wife down with him.
He planned on divorcing her and signing over what little assets he had left.
But his wife wouldn't go along with it.
While we were at a café, he confessed his plan to fake evidence of an affair.
That way, she could legally take him for everything he had without having to feel any guilt about it.
Feeling sorry for him, I pulled out a bank card and offered it to him as a loan to tide him over.
It wasn't until later that I realized I'd handed him the wrong card; it was Edward's salary card.
Edward had given it to me on our wedding night.
In the wake of our intimacy, a half-drunk Edward had held me close and murmured, "It's only right for a wife to manage her husband's finances."
He was the CEO of his family's enterprise, but he still drew a monthly paycheck.
Once he gave me that card, he had his assistant funnel his investment payouts and other extra income straight into it.
Once I realized the mistake, I met up with Charles the next day to swap the cards.
Looking back, Edward must have known about everything: my conversation with Charles at the café and the card I handed over.
Since Charles's wife was an actress, they kept their marriage under wraps.
Edward had no idea Charles was married, which led to this massive misunderstanding.
Seeing him this furious, I couldn't help wondering: had he been keeping tabs on Charles and me all through our seven years of marriage because he actually cared?
Could he have loved me, if only a little?
But Edward spoke up, shattering my ridiculous fantasy.
"Before you waste your energy digging for dirt on Grace and me, Lauren," Edward sneered, "you'd better figure out how you're going to explain yourself if these photos ever go public."
My heart dropped.
So it was a threat, plain and simple.
I wanted to set the record straight, but the thought felt pathetic.
He wouldn't care about the truth anyway.
The words died in my throat, leaving only a cold laugh.
"Believe whatever you want," I said flatly.
Edward looked down at me, then suddenly reached out, his thumb dragging roughly under my eye.
"You save your tears for him, don't you?" he hissed through clenched teeth. "You disgust me, Lauren."