Chapter 1

During the finals, my husband Ryan Carter, the hotshot athlete, gave up a sure win with the finish line right in front of him.

He tore off his number, jumped into the stands, scooped me up after I'd collapsed from acute appendicitis, and rushed me to the hospital without hesitation.

The first thing I said when I woke up after surgery was, "Ryan, let's get a divorce."

He stepped back, stunned, his eyes filled with tears. "I threw away my entire career just to get you to the hospital!"

For years, he poured everything he had into the sport, chasing after that championship.

But with one decision to quit, all his efforts went straight down the drain.

But I kept my voice flat.

I said, "That's true. That's exactly why I'm divorcing you. I don't want to spend my life with a loser who even gave up on his dream."

Honestly, our marriage was a mistake from the very start.

*****

My words hit Ryan like a ton of bricks.

His legs went weak and he sank to the ground, mumbling, "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

His coach, Greg Lewis, and his teammates saw this and started shouting at me.

Greg said, "Do you even have a heart? He gave up the gold medal everyone in the sports world had their eyes on, all for you!"

I ignored their yelling and just looked at Ryan, then poured a glass of water straight onto his head.

"What's, can't even stand up now?" I said.

My move made everyone furious.

"Fine, go ahead and get a divorce. He'll find someone who truly values him. Don't come crawling back to him later!" one said.

"Stella, don't blame Ryan, and don't get too worked up, either. He cares about you, you know? To him, you're way more important than any gold medal. That's just the kind of man he is," another said.

I pulled a bitter smile, clutching at the incision on my stomach, now aching as the anesthesia faded.

"Alex," I asked weakly, "how much do you think a gold medal at a world-class event is worth, including all the endorsements that come after? Tell me honestly."

Alex Walker was stunned, stammering, but in the end couldn't come up with an answer.

Just then, Greg got a call. His face turned ashen as he stormed over to me.

He said, "Stella, Ryan dropped out of the finals, and now the internet's going crazy! The sponsors are blowing up our phones, demanding answers. Come with me. We need to do a quick press conference and tell everyone you suddenly got sick, and Ryan only quit because he had to rush you to the hospital. We can't let this turn into a PR disaster."

I rested against the headboard, the pain in my stomach so sharp that I could barely sit up.

"Mr. Lewis," I said weakly, "I just came out of surgery. The doctor ordered me to stay in bed. I never asked him to throw away his shot for me. This was his decision, all the way. Why should I have to explain anything for him?"

"Stella!" Greg was so furious that he actually grabbed the collar of my hospital gown.

He went on, "You're nothing but bad luck! Ryan sacrificed four years for this, and you destroyed it in one night. And you can still talk like you don't care at all?"

"Let go," I said coldly. "Keep your filthy hands off me."

"Stella, please, don't be angry. I'm begging you," Ryan's mother, Erica Carter, said.

She threw herself beside my bed and collapsed, bawling with tears and snot running down her face.

She begged, "Just show Ryan some mercy and spare a thought for an old woman like me, begging here. If you'll just say a few words out there for him and save his career, I swear I'll hand over our house back home to you, right this minute. Please, I'm desperate. I'm begging you!"

Honestly, I couldn't care less about her little house back in the sticks.

When I kept silent, Erica's cries grew even more heartbreaking.

She said, "Stella, how can you be so heartless? Did you forget how Ryan has treated you these past five years? No matter how packed his training was, he'd always find time to call you. He sweet-talked the cafeteria chef just to learn your favorite dishes. Whenever you had bad cramps, he'd wake up in the middle of the night to make you hot chocolate. Tell me, where did he ever go wrong? Why are you trying to ruin him like this?"

Just then, a woman in a white coat walked in. It was the team doctor, Grace Miller.

She spoke in a gentle, soothing voice, "Mrs. Carter, please don't get too worked up. Stella just had surgery, and she's still pretty emotional right now."

Then she said to me, "Stella, I know you're hurting too. Ryan loves you so much. You're just worried about him, aren't you? Don't say things you don't mean. Whatever's bothering you, let's talk about it once you're feeling better."

Erica snapped, "Ungrateful, that's what she is."

"Of course not, Mrs. Carter. Stella isn't like that," Grace said, reaching over to steady me, only for her elbow to bump hard against my wound by accident.

A sharp, tearing pain shot through my wound, and I let out a muffled groan, cold sweat soaking through my back.

Ryan had collapsed on the ground, completely drained, and finally looked up at me.

His eyes were shot through with red, his voice cracked with desperation.

He said, "Hon, I'm so sorry. This is all on me. I put you through hell.

"I shouldn't have been so focused on training that I neglected you. I promise, from now on you'll be with me at every single competition. Can we just go home together? Please?"

I shook my head, pulled the divorce papers from under my pillow, and threw them in his face. "Ryan, I'm done with this. I want a divorce."

Ryan's face turned pale as a sheet.

Erica's sobs stopped cold, and she let out a piercing scream.

She shouted, "You vicious woman! What did my son ever do to deserve this? Why do you have to wreck his life?"