Chapter 1

Sarah Miller stared at the single cupcake on the marble island.

A pink frosting swirl, one candle.

Happy 28th Birthday to me, she thought.

The mansion was silent, vast and cold like always.

Three years she' d lived here with Ethan Hayes.

Three years of this opulent emptiness.

Her phone hadn't buzzed once with his name.

Not a call, not a text.

She knew he was busy, a big merger was happening.

But a birthday.

Her last birthday, maybe.

The thought sat heavy, a stone in her chest. Oligodendroglioma.

The doctor' s words echoed, quiet and final. Aggressive. Limited time.

She blew out the candle. The smoke curled upwards, disappearing into the high ceiling.

She wouldn' t eat the cupcake. Her appetite was gone, had been for weeks.

The sound of the front door opening made her jump.

Ethan.

He walked into the kitchen, briefcase in hand, tie loosened.

He looked tired, stressed.

"You' re still up," he said, not a question, just an observation.

He didn' t see the cupcake. Or if he did, he didn' t comment.

"I saved you some dinner," Sarah said, her voice soft. "It' s in the warmer."

He shook his head, already moving towards the stairs.

"Ate at the office. Long night."

He paused, halfway up. "Is the coffee ready for the morning? Early start."

"Yes, Ethan. Timed for six."

He nodded, then continued up without another word.

No "goodnight." No "how was your day."

Just the expectation of service.

She cleaned up the cupcake, throwing it in the trash.

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached into her purse on the counter.

She pulled out a thick envelope. Divorce papers.

Her lawyer had drawn them up last week.

She' d signed them this morning, her signature small but firm.

This was her decision. To free him. To spare him the burden of her illness.

He wouldn' t want to care for a dying wife he never loved.

She waited until she heard the shower running in the master suite upstairs.

Then she walked up, her heart a dull ache.

He was at his desk in their bedroom, already on his laptop, a towel around his waist.

His phone lay beside him, screen lit up with a notification.

A message from Jessica Vance. Sarah saw the name clearly.

Jessica, his college girlfriend, recently divorced, planning her return from London.

Sarah knew Ethan still thought about her. Maybe hoped for her.

This made her decision easier, cleaner.

She placed the envelope on his desk, next to his phone.

"What' s this?" he asked, eyes still on his screen, annoyed by the interruption.

"Divorce papers, Ethan."

He finally looked up, a frown creasing his brow.

"What are you talking about? Is this some kind of joke?"

His voice was sharp, dismissive.

"No joke," Sarah said, keeping her voice steady. "I want a divorce."

He scoffed, leaning back in his chair.

"Don' t be ridiculous, Sarah. You' re being emotional."

He gestured vaguely. "My father would have a fit. This merger is critical. We can' t have any scandal."

"This isn' t about your father or the merger," she said. "This is about us. Or the lack of us. I want to release you, Ethan. You can be with whoever you want."

She thought of Jessica.

His eyes narrowed. "Release me? What is this, some kind of power play? You think this will make me what? Pay more attention to you?"

He stood up, the towel shifting. His anger was a cold, familiar thing.

"You know this marriage was an arrangement. My father bailed out your family' s newspaper, 'The Clarion.' This was the deal. You seemed happy enough with it."

Sarah flinched internally. Yes, her family had been on the brink of ruin. Yes, Arthur Hayes Sr. had orchestrated the bailout, conditional on her marrying Ethan.

And yes, a foolish, younger version of herself had a quiet, long-standing crush on him. She' d hoped, naively, that he might grow to care for her.

A bitter hope, long dead now.

"I' m not playing games, Ethan," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, yet firm. "I' ve thought about this. It' s what I want."

He stared at her, his expression unreadable for a moment, then hardening into impatience.

"Fine. Whatever. Talk to my lawyer. I don' t have time for this drama."

He turned back to his laptop, dismissing her.

Sarah stood there for a moment, the unspoken verdict of her illness pressing down on her.

He didn' t ask why. He didn' t care.

That was all the confirmation she needed.

She turned and walked out of the room, leaving him to his work and his future with Jessica.

Her own future was a shrinking, fading horizon. But this first step, at least, felt right.