Chapter 1

The day I learned I was terminally ill with stomach cancer, Kieran was in Paris attending a ballet with his old flame, Nadia.

Three years ago, he promised me with a ring, "We'll face everything together." Now, he's oblivious to the fact that I'll be gone in three months.

Or maybe he's not so unaware.

Just last night, he broke into my lab, stole the core data for the anti-cancer drug, and called Nadia with glee: "We'll own all the patents soon."

"And then, I'll ensure she's out of the picture."

At the Charity Gala, I confronted Nadia and demanded the data back. Kieran tightened his grip on my chin and warned, "Don't push me."

After I fainted, I called my lawyer: "I want to amend my will—all my assets, donate to the Cancer Center."

And I sent the FBI the surveillance footage: him stealing sensitive data and poisoning me.

If I can't survive, I’ll make sure these two scoundrels pay for it behind bars.

The word "terminal" on the diagnosis hit me like a dagger to the heart.

The doctor’s words faded into a blur, leaving only "three months" clearly imprinted in my mind.

I wiped the blood from my mouth mechanically. My phone buzzed.

It was a message from Kieran: "There's an international conference tonight, don't wait up."

His assistant’s text followed: "Mr. Kieran has arrived at the Paris Opera House with Miss Nadia."

In the photo, he was gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

The scent of Edelweiss Perfume suddenly filled the air.

I turned sharply to see his black suit jacket casually draped over the sofa.

It still carried that faint scent—the exclusive perfume, with only a hundred bottles in existence.

How absurd. For our anniversary last month, he gifted me a sample of the very same perfume.

He said, "You rarely use perfume, try this sample."

In retrospect, it feels like a mockery. Is this how he dismisses me?

A sharp pain twisted in my stomach. I staggered to the bathroom, vomiting blood mixed with bile.

When I looked up, my reflection was ghastly pale, with blood still lingering at the corners of my mouth.

Apollo was crouched at the door, his amber eyes silently watching me.

He was a birthday gift from Kieran last year, meant to keep me company when he was away.

Now I realize, it was just to make his absences more convenient.

I petted the scar behind its ear—a mark from protecting its previous owner in an accident.

Even a dog knows loyalty, what about people?

The phone buzzed again.

It was an encrypted file from the private investigator. After decompressing it, a surveillance video appeared.

Late last night, Kieran broke into my lab, used my access to log into the system, and copied the core data of the anti-cancer drug onto a USB drive.

The video froze on him saying into the phone: "Nadia, we'll soon have all the patents."

"And then, I'll ensure she's out of the picture."

A flash of lightning outside illuminated our wedding photo on the bedside table.

Once, he knelt and told me, "Meeting you was the luckiest thing in my life."

Thunder roared, I wiped the mirror clean of blood splatters, and suddenly I laughed.

"Alright," I whispered to the void, "let's see who falls in the end."