Chapter 5 Getting A Fake Report

Rosanna's eyes filled with tears.

Her hands by her sides were clenched into fists, and her nails dug into her palms.

She had always known Oliver wasn't fond of her, but she had never imagined just how heartless he could truly be toward her.

Not long ago, there was a story online about a street cleaner who sold his only home and started selling blood every week on the black market just to afford treatment for his wife, who had uremia.

Compared to that, her condition was barely anything-a tiny 2.5-millimeter nodule, not even confirmed to be cancerous. Yet Oliver already seemed desperate to get rid of her.

"Forget Klenridge. I'll book a local doctor right away. Getting a biopsy in Qegan tomorrow will be quicker," Rosanna said, blinking back tears and struggling to keep her voice steady despite the emotions she felt inside.

Oliver grabbed her chin, his eyes sharp and cutting. "You're that desperate to be free of me, huh?"

"Isn't that what you want?" Rosanna shot back, biting down hard on her lip.

The sharp taste of blood touched her tongue, and the sudden pain made it hard for her to even breathe.

Oliver's glare darkened with venom as he shoved her against the wall. "After three years of sharing my bed, do you think that man would still take you back?" He sneered.

His cruel words ripped open wounds Rosanna had tried so hard to forget.

He continued, "You won't even look at me because you know you're guilty. You've been fantasizing about cheating on me all this time! He betrayed you three years ago, and you're still hung up on him? Pathetic!"

Rosanna didn't say a word at that.

She felt as if someone had snuffed out every last bit of feeling inside her.

Oliver's lips moved from her earlobe to her cheek and finally pressed against her cold, pale lips.

His breath was warm and far too close, clouding her already overwhelmed senses.

After three years of being with Oliver, she could read his intentions all too well.

Before, she would either respond to his advances or quietly let him do what he wanted.

But tonight, she firmly brushed his hand away from her waist and walked off to the master bedroom without a word.

Oliver was left alone, and the fog of desire faded just as fast as it had come.

He walked past the master bedroom without even sparing it a glance.

He went straight to the study, locked the door behind him, and sank into the chair near the window.

After sitting in silence with his eyes closed for a while, he opened the safe and retrieved three identical, elegant boxes.

Each one was palm-sized, crafted from rare materials, and decorated with delicately carved patterns.

He placed them neatly in a row on the desk.

On the back of each box-one from two years ago, one from last year, and one from just yesterday-a date was engraved.

The dates all ended the same way-December 6th, Rosanna's birthday, which was tomorrow.

Inside each box was a white pearl, about the size of a thumb, clearly of high quality.

For the past three years since Rosanna had married him, a mysterious package like this had always arrived exactly two days before her birthday.

What puzzled Oliver was that although each parcel was addressed to Rosanna, it was his phone number listed as the contact.

The first year, it held a single pearl nestled in a dainty box, along with a handwritten card with the words "Happy Birthday". There was no name written on it.

The writing was so elegant that it almost looked like it had been printed by a machine.

Oliver had had a strong hunch about the sender right away the first time receiving the package, but even so, he had asked Karl to look into it.

The exact same thing had happened again the following year, and now once more this year.

Rosanna hadn't set foot in Jiford for three years, and that man had sent her three valuable pearls-from Jiford to Ekadence, and then to Qegan.

The only word Oliver could come up with to explain it all was "love".

Rosanna didn't know anything about the pearls or the messages, and Oliver had no plans to ever let her find out.

He should've discarded the first one the moment it arrived, but for some reason, he didn't. Now, the sight of them just annoyed him.

While Oliver isolated himself in the study, Rosanna tossed and turned in bed before finally getting up and heading to the station ahead of schedule.

Thoughts of the lump, the possibility of a grave illness, and divorce overwhelmed her, and she nearly ran two red lights on the way.

When she thought about how cold Oliver was to her, her feelings for him felt like a sad joke.

Since her feelings were clearly one-sided, she figured it was best to keep them to herself and let them die quietly.

She had already made up her mind-file for divorce first, then go for a follow-up examination in a month as Gregg had suggested.

After parking her car in the parking lot, she didn't head into the station right away. Instead, she called Leah.

When Rosanna mentioned wanting a fake cancer report for a breast lump, Leah was taken aback.

"You really want to go to such lengths just to divorce Oliver?"

Rosanna let out a quiet sigh. "I've made up my mind to get a fake report from the black market. Honestly, I might be the first person to ever do something like this. So, I'll need your help providing the numbers of a cancer diagnosis."

Leah hesitated, then said, "If it'll help you get away from that bastard, I'll figure something out. Just wait for my update."

Rosanna quickly said, "Even if I'm stuck with Oliver forever, I don't want you doing anything illegal for me-"

But before she could finish, Leah had already hung up.

The idea of her marriage to Oliver coming to an end left Rosanna feeling breathless.

She scolded herself repeatedly for being so weak.

With the year drawing to a close, the media industry was in full swing, and her workload had tripled.

Online media had gradually eclipsed traditional platforms, and Qegan Television was doing everything it could to stay relevant, shifting its focus to bringing in more revenue.

For many big companies, getting Rosanna-the station's top anchor-as the host of their year-end event was a status symbol.

With ad sponsorships dwindling each year, the station saw these gigs as gold and quickly rolled out a revenue-sharing model.

Anchors got to keep 60% of their emcee fees, while the station took the remaining 40%.

No sooner had Rosanna settled at her desk than Kyle sent over a jam-packed schedule.

The station had signed her up for seven year-end events without even asking her.

Her head began to ache the moment she saw the first gig was this afternoon-for the Marshall Group's year-end party.

Quite a few Marshalls worked at the Marshall Group, and with Millie also there, Rosanna had zero desire to do this.

She called Kyle and tried to express her reluctance to do this as tactfully as she could.

But Kyle, with his years of experience, quickly took control of the conversation and dismissed her, leaving her no room to argue.

From twelve to half past twelve, Rosanna hosted "Financial News" live. Her voice nearly faltered while reporting on the Marshall Group's acquisition of Galaxy Media because Oliver's name was right there in the script.

In that instant, Oliver's cold words came back to her-how he said they'd divorce if she had a serious illness.

At one, a sleek minibus from the Marshall Group arrived to pick up Rosanna and a few of her coworkers, heading straight to the company's headquarters.

Millie was waiting in the lot for Rosanna and the others.

Now that Oliver was the Marshall Group's vice president, having Millie, his right-hand woman, greet them personally was meant as a sign of respect.

Millie's gentle demeanor was a deliberate act meant to impress Oliver; when Oliver wasn't around, she was aloof to everyone.

After she briefly greeted the event's director with a serious expression, her gaze fell on Rosanna.