Chapter 4

Jenna watched Edward and Emily walk away, clearly indignant on my behalf.

She said, "Ms. Nolan, Mr. Grant is way out of line.

"He cheated on you. You should fight for more of the assets."

I pressed my lips together, feeling a little dazed.

What good was money when I was about to die?

I was practically all alone in the world, with no parents, but an eighty-year-old grandma left.

It felt like something was stabbing into my brain; everything went black, and I almost hit the floor.

Jenna immediately reached out to steady me.

I rushed to the trash can and coughed up a mouthful of blood.

She was stunned, her voice shaky. "Ms. Nolan, why are you..."

I took a tissue and wiped my mouth. "It's nothing. I'm feeling a bit off. Don't worry about it."

She fell silent.

I glanced over, finding that her eyes were red, and she was quietly wiping away tears.

I never imagined what it would be like when I was running out of time.

Now here I was, watching my husband with his other family.

And the only person who cared enough to cry for me was my assistant.

I never thought much about it before, but now I felt a wave of sadness.

My head and stomach hurt so badly. I barely managed a few steps before I dropped to the floor.

Everything was fuzzy, but I saw someone rushing over to me.

He lifted me into his arms, his voice urgent. "Sarah, hang in there. Don't fall asleep."

I was so out of it from the pain that I couldn't tell who he was.

All I could think about was Edward, so I reached out and wrapped my arms around his neck.

I was shaking uncontrollably, my head pressed against his chest. "It hurts so much," I whispered.

Even though everything was a blur, I could feel a cold, piercing gaze stabbing into my back.

*****

When I came to, I was in the hospital. Samuel was standing by my bed, dressed in his white coat.

He looked at me, dead serious. "Are you kidding me? You're in this condition and still refusing to stay in the hospital?

"I rushed you into the ER. You were this close to dying."

I pushed myself up, bracing on the bed. "Staying here won't change anything. I don't want to put myself through all that for nothing."

Samuel stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Don't tell me you still haven't told Edward."

I was getting annoyed, slipped on my shoes, and headed for the door. "Why should he care? I'm divorcing him anyway."

Samuel didn't hold back. "So he's got another woman now?

"Your assistant said he's got a kid with her, too."

I paused at the door, not bothering to answer.

I skipped the studio and headed straight home.

It didn't feel like home anymore. Once the divorce was final, I'd be out of there.

When I got back, Edward was lounging on the living room couch again.

He'd been acting so strangely lately. The man who used to be too busy to come home was suddenly always around.

As soon as he saw me, his face turned cold, and he shot me a sarcastic look. "Wow, I never realized you were so frail and needed someone to carry you around."

That was when it finally clicked. Samuel must've been the one who carried me out of the Cloverfield Hotel.

I smiled, "I was acting. Wasn't it obvious?"

Edward looked stunned for a second. Then his anger burned hotter.

Seriously, who did he think he was fooling? He already had a son with Emily.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Isn't that what men like?

"Someone like Emily, all soft and frail, makes you want to play the hero."

Edward gritted his teeth. "What exactly is going on between you and Samuel?"

I couldn't help but smirk, enjoying the way his face changed. "What do you think? It's mutual."

Edward lost control. In a flash, he raised his hand and slapped me right across the face.

The slap echoed, crisp and loud. I was stunned, and so was he.

We had been married for over seven years and been together for more than nine.

Even during our worst fights, he never once laid a hand on me.

I never imagined that after seven years of marriage, when my time was running out, he'd slap me.

It took Edward a long moment to snap out of it. He reached out, trying to touch my face.

He asked, "Does it hurt? Why can't you talk to me like a normal person?"

I shoved his hand away and hurried upstairs, flustered and trying to hold myself together.

I stayed in the bathroom for a long time.

This time, I kept popping painkillers like candy, but the pain wouldn't let up.

Even though it was liver cancer, the pain wasn't where my liver was supposed to be.

The pills stuck in my throat, making me gag and cry uncontrollably.

Edward kept knocking on the door. "Are you coming out?"

I wiped my face and shot back, "I'm steaming my face, so stop bothering me."

He knew I always liked to soak in the tub and do my facial steam, sometimes for more than half an hour.

The knocking outside finally stopped.

When I came out, he was already asleep in bed.

He was sprawled out on his side of the bed, one arm stretched out, palm up, right where I usually slept.

Suddenly, I remembered how he used to notice every little thing about me.

Even if I had a headache or a fever, he'd catch it right away, like he had some kind of sixth sense.

But now, when I had little time left, how come he couldn't see it at all?