Chapter 1
My husband Clayton Grant's confidante, Iris Lowell, was struck by kidney failure.
He went straight to get tested for a match without any hesitation.
And like that, he turned out to be a perfect match.
On the day he signed the surgery consent form, he didn't even look back at me. "You're not going to stop me, are you?"
I smiled and shook my head.
He let out a sigh of relief, as if he'd expected me to cave all along.
The day after the surgery, he lay in his hospital bed, weakly reached for his phone to call me.
The door to his room swung open.
It wasn't me. It was a delivery guy. "Sign here, please. It's your divorce papers, officially stamped by the court."
*****
The hospital hallway was blindingly white.
The smell of disinfectant filled the air, chilling me to the bone with its cold sense of finality.
Clayton stood at the surgery consent table, his back turned to me.
He wore a blue-and-white striped hospital gown. His build was a bit frail, but his posture was perfectly straight.
It felt like he was about to step onto an altar, not an operating table.
"Yvonne, you're not going to stop me, are you?" He tilted his head. His voice was cautious, almost testing me, but deep down, he was sure I wouldn't stand in his way.
I looked at him, the man I'd spent eight years loving.
There wasn't a hint of guilt on his face, only a kind of tragic, fearless resolve, like he was about to lay it all on the line for love.
But that love wasn't for me.
It was for his confidante, Iris Lowell, lying in the ICU, needing a new kidney.
I smiled. There was no drama, no tears, and no accusations.
I shook my head softly.
Clayton let out a deep breath, and all the tension drained from his shoulders in an instant.
He turned back, grabbed the pen, and signed his name with a flourish in the Family Member section.
The nurse glanced at us, her tone professional and detached. "Donating a kidney is a mature procedure, but it still affects the donor's health. Have you really thought it through?"
Clayton cut in, "We've thought it through. We're both on board."
He said we were both on board. What a joke.
From Iris's kidney failure diagnosis, to Clayton rushing to get tested, to the match coming back positive and him deciding to donate, I was always the last to find out.
He wasn't informing me. He was commanding me to go along with it.
Because in his world, I, Yvonne Sullivan, was always the submissive wife who put him and his family above everything else.
I didn't say another word. I quietly watched him.
I watched as he handed the signed consent form to the nurse.
I watched as a look of relief finally spread across his face.
He walked over, reaching for my hand out of habit, but I casually pulled away before he could touch me.
His hand hung awkwardly in the air for a moment, then he acted like it was no big deal and withdrew it.
He said, "Yvonne, I know this isn't easy for you. But Iris is my closest friend. I can't turn my back on her when she's fighting for her life.
"We've been together since we were kids. That kind of bond is everything to me. You understand, don't you?"
I got it.
How could I not?
I got how they would talk on the phone late at night, calling it their so-called soul-searching sessions.
I got how they would take those yearly trips together, claiming it was all about finding their original spark.
I got how every gift he gave me, Iris got one, too, because good friends always shared the best things.
Now, he was about to share half his kidney.
And that was the last thing keeping our family from falling apart.
"I get it." I stared right into his eyes, my tone calm as ever.
A flicker of relief crossed his face, and he started laying out his usual sweet talk, like he'd done it a thousand times before.
"Once the surgery's over, I'll make it up to you. We'll take a trip to Uritonali, and I'll buy you that bag you've been eyeing. How about it?
"And Jasper nailed his finals this time. I'll get him the latest gaming console as a reward."
He always did this.
He always tried to patch up the damage with a few trivial gifts, as if that could erase all the emotional wounds he'd inflicted on me, time and again.
But this time, I wasn't buying it.
"Okay." I nodded, with the same gentle smile on my face.
He finally relaxed, even reached out and ruffled my hair, his tone doting as ever. "I knew it. You are so generous."
The operating room lights came on.
A nurse pushed out a gurney and called, "Clayton."
He climbed on, gave me one last look, a silent reassurance in his eyes.
I waved at him.
He was wheeled through the heavy doors.
The doors slowly closed, cutting off our last glimpse of each other.
The hallway fell silent in an instant.
Inch by inch, the smile vanished from my face, leaving nothing but an icy numbness that cut straight through me.
I didn't stay.
I turned, pulled out my phone, and called my lawyer. "Ms. Brooks, he's in."
A calm, professional voice came through the line. "Got it, Ms. Sullivan. All the paperwork's ready, and the court's been taken care of. The expedited divorce decree should be ready as soon as tomorrow."
"Thank you." I hung up and walked out the front doors of the hospital.
The sunlight washed over me, but there was no warmth in it at all.
Clayton thought I didn't have the guts to leave him.
He thought I'd fall apart without him.
But he was dead wrong.
Nothing hurt worse than when one's heart finally went numb.
The moment he chose to go under the knife for another woman, all that was left between us was settling the score.