Chapter 1

The day I signed the divorce papers, his first love came back.

I watched him hurry off to the airport, then tore up the cancer diagnosis in my hand.

Three years as her understudy, I gave everything, ended up with nothing, lost even my life.

After that, I disappeared from his world.

But he went mad, launching a frantic online search for his wife, and ended up weeping at my grave until he collapsed.

Later, hand in hand with my new lover, I was live-streaming sales when he dropped a million-dollar order, eyes red with desperation. "Please, just look at me one more time."

I flashed a sweet smile at the camera. "Thanks to my number one fan, but your part in my story is already over."

*****

The printer buzzed, spitting out the last page.

I picked up the divorce agreement. Bruce Dryden's signature was already scrawled in the bottom right corner. The ink was fresh, standing out starkly.

That was quick. I mentioned it this morning, and by noon, his assistant had already delivered it.

Whatever. I forced a smile as the familiar cramp twisted in my stomach, like a hand wringing it from the inside. I fished the pill bottle from my bag, shook out two white tablets, and swallowed them dry.

The bitter taste lingered in my throat.

Suddenly, my phone went wild with vibrations. The name flashing on the screen was "Athena Nelly", Bruce's forever crush, the one he could never let go, his unforgettable mark who'd vanished overseas for three years.

I swiped to answer, but before I could say anything, Athena's voice came through, shaky and tearful. "Mona? Is Bruce there? I... I'm at the airport. My luggage is gone, my phone's dead... I'm really scared."

Her voice was so delicate and helpless, practically begging for sympathy.

I replied calmly, "Hang on, I'll get him for you."

"Thank you, Mona." She sniffled, and honestly, her performance was even more Oscar-worthy than it was three years ago.

I walked toward the study, phone in hand. The door was half open, and Bruce stood by the window, his back to me, talking on the phone. His voice was gentle in a way I'd never heard before. "Yeah, I know... Don't worry, everything's sorted. Just focus on your shoot. I've got things covered here."

Anyone could tell who he was talking to.

I knocked on the door. He turned around, saw me, and his brow instantly furrowed, impatience written all over his face.

"Athena's at the airport. She's looking for you," I said, handing him the phone.

Right then, I watched the impatience in his eyes drain away like a tide, replaced by that familiar yet distant look, anxiety, concern, and a gentleness so intense it almost hurt.

He snatched the phone from me, his voice instantly switching gears. "Athena? Don't be scared, I'm coming right now. Stand somewhere visible, don't wander off, just wait for me."

He didn't even spare me a glance. He grabbed his coat and bolted out the door.

"Bruce," I called out, stopping him.

He paused, turned back, his eyes sharp as knives. "Mona, Athena needs me right now. Whatever it is, we'll talk when I get back." The reproach in his tone made it sound like I was just causing unnecessary drama.

I shook the divorce agreement in my hand. "I haven't signed it yet. Are you sure you want to leave now?"

His eyes narrowed for just a moment, barely a flicker. He glanced between me and the phone, not even pausing to think.

"Just sign it and leave it on the table. Whatever you want, it's yours," he shot out, his words fast and cold, like he was shooing away someone who didn't matter. "Car, house, money, take your pick. Mona, don't start anything right now."

Then he spun around and bolted.

He really did run. I could hear his rushed footsteps echoing down the hall, fading at the elevator.

The massive villa felt instantly hollow, so quiet I could almost hear my own heartbeat. Or maybe it was just the cancer eating away at my stomach.

I walked over to the window. In no time, Bruce's black Cullinan shot out of the driveway, splashing through the puddles, leaving without a shred of hesitation.

I glanced down at the crumpled sheet in my hand, the city hospital's diagnosis. Late-stage gastric adenocarcinoma, has metastasized. Immediate hospitalization advised.

The doctor's pitying look still lingered in my mind. "Ms. Funk, where's your family? We need to discuss treatment options as soon as possible."

Family? The person who was supposed to be my family was off chasing his first love, like even one more minute with me would be a waste.

Three years. I was nothing but a cheap copy, kept my hair long and straight, just like Athena liked, wore the white dresses she favored, spoke in her soft voice, and cooked the meals she loved.

When he was drunk, he'd hold me and call me by her name. And when he was sober, he'd look at me, as if searching for traces of someone else in my eyes.

I thought if I tried hard enough, did everything right, and waited long enough, even a stone would eventually warm up.