Dying In Silence: The Unwanted Heiress

Kaia sat on the cold leather sofa. Her eyes were locked on the piece of paper resting on the mahogany desk. The logo of the Manhattan Medical Center was printed at the top, but her focus was on the heavy black ink at the bottom of the page.

Dr. Finch pushed open the frosted glass door. He walked in, his face tight, and sat in the swivel chair across from her.

He slid the biopsy report across the desk. He pointed a pen at the final line.

"Late-stage malignant tumor," Dr. Finch said. His voice was low, heavy in the quiet room.

Kaia's lungs stopped working. She tried to inhale, but her chest remained completely still. Her fingers reached out, stiff and uncoordinated. She flipped the page. The tips of her fingers turned completely white from how hard she pressed them against the paper.

"The cancer cells have metastasized to your bones," Dr. Finch continued. "Based on the aggressive nature of the spread, your life expectancy is approximately three months."

Kaia forced the corners of her mouth upward. She tried to form a polite smile to hide the violent trembling in her hands, but her lower lip twitched uncontrollably.

She took a sharp, jagged breath. "Are there any targeted drugs? Something that could give me half a year?"

Dr. Finch shook his head. "I am sorry, Kaia. I highly recommend you contact your lawyer to arrange a trust fund and look into hospice care."

Kaia stared at him for three seconds. She picked up the report. Her movements were robotic, jerky. She folded the thick paper twice and shoved it deep into the bottom zipper compartment of her Hermes Birkin bag.

She stood up. "Thank you, Doctor."

The moment her weight shifted to her feet, her knees buckled. The strength vanished from her legs, and she swayed toward the Persian rug.

Dr. Finch shot out of his chair. He grabbed her forearm to steady her. His eyes were full of raw, unfiltered pity.

Kaia felt her stomach churn at the sight of that pity. She pulled her arm out of his grip. She forced her spine completely straight, locking her shoulders into place. She was a Woodward. She would not collapse in a clinic.

She walked out the door and stepped onto the sidewalk. The freezing early winter wind of Manhattan slammed into her, filling her khaki trench coat and chilling her skin until goosebumps erupted on her arms.

Kaia walked to the curb on her seven-inch heels. A black Maybach pulled up. The bodyguard opened the rear door, and she slid into the leather seat.

"Back to the penthouse, Mrs. Downs?" the driver asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

Kaia stared at the blurry taillights in the traffic. "No. Take me to the Downs Plaza Hotel."

The interior of the car was dead silent. She opened her bag and pulled out a compact mirror. She turned on the reading light. The face staring back at her was the color of chalk.

She grabbed a tube of concealer. She applied thick layers under her eyes, pressing hard into her skin to cover the dark, bruised-looking circles. She finished by dragging a tube of aggressive, bright red lipstick across her lips.

The Maybach slowed to a halt in front of the hotel's red carpet. Camera flashes exploded against the tinted windows, a rapid, blinding strobe light.

The bodyguard opened the door. Kaia pasted a flawless, practiced smile on her face and stepped out into the freezing air.

She walked through the revolving doors and entered the massive, gold-plated banquet hall. The Downs Group anniversary gala was deafening. She scanned the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, searching for him.

She found Gerrit Downs standing near a towering champagne pyramid. He was surrounded by Wall Street executives.

He wore a custom Armani suit. His jaw was clenched tight. He was looking down at his phone screen. Kaia caught a glimpse of the text message. It was from Seraphina.

Kaia walked up to him. "Gerrit," she said softly. She reached out her hand, aiming to loop her arm through his to present a united front to the cameras.

Gerrit stepped back. It was a fast, reflexive movement. He avoided her touch completely. His eyebrows slammed together, and his eyes darkened with intense irritation.

The executives around them stopped talking. They exchanged glances. The women nearby whispered, their eyes full of mockery as they stared at the trophy wife being publicly rejected.

Gerrit leaned in. He lowered his voice so only she could hear. "Do not play these pathetic attention-seeking games in public."

A violent cramp ripped through Kaia's stomach. She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to double over. "Gerrit, please. I have something very important to tell you tonight."

Gerrit let out a harsh, cold laugh. "What is it this time? Are you going to use the Woodward family's board seats to threaten me into coming home?"

He didn't wait for her to answer. He turned his back on her and walked straight toward the VIP lounge.

Kaia stood completely still. The music pounded in her ears. The weight of the Birkin bag on her arm felt like a hundred pounds of lead. The death sentence hidden inside it crushed whatever courage she had left.

Kaia turned away from the crowded banquet hall. Her legs felt like they were made of wood as she walked across the marble lobby.

She got into the back of the Maybach. "Take me back to the penthouse by Central Park. Now."

The car descended into the underground garage. She stepped into the private elevator and rode it directly to the top floor.

She pushed open the heavy front door. The apartment was pitch black. The air inside was stale and freezing, smelling like a place no one actually lived in.

She didn't turn on the main chandelier. She flicked on a single floor lamp. She dropped her Birkin bag onto the white sofa.

Kaia walked to the kitchen island. She poured a glass of lukewarm water, shook two heavy painkillers out of a bottle, and swallowed them dry to suppress the sharp, stabbing pain in her abdomen.

She kicked off her high heels. Her bare feet hit the freezing marble floor. She walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared down at the glowing grid of Manhattan.

An hour passed. The electronic lock on the front door beeped loudly.

Gerrit walked in. He brought the smell of cold night wind and a faint trace of expensive whiskey with him.

He reached up and yanked his tie loose. He saw Kaia standing by the window. The irritation instantly returned to his face, hardening his features.

He ignored her entirely. He walked straight to the bar and poured himself a glass of amber liquid.

Kaia turned around. She took a deep breath, feeling the air scrape against her throat. "I need to talk to you."

Gerrit took a sip of his drink, keeping his back to her. "Make it fast. I have zero patience for you tonight."

Kaia took two steps toward his back. "I will sign over complete control of the Woodward family trust fund to you."

Gerrit's hand froze. He slowly turned around. His sharp eyes locked onto her face, scanning her for the trap.

Kaia stared directly into his eyes. "On one condition. For the next three months, you will stay here and play the role of a perfect, loving husband."

The air in the room stopped moving. The suspicion in Gerrit's eyes morphed into absolute disgust.

He slammed his glass down on the marble counter. The sharp crack echoed in the empty room.

He closed the distance between them in three long strides. He towered over her.

He raised his hand and clamped his fingers around her jaw. He squeezed hard, forcing her head up to look at him.

"Do you honestly think," Gerrit sneered, his breath hitting her face, "that the heir to the Downs family can be bought to act as your male escort?"

The pressure on her jaw sent a sharp pain shooting into her skull. Her eyes burned. "Please, Gerrit. I just need three months."

Gerrit yanked his hand away like her skin burned him. He wiped his fingers on his slacks.

"Even if you handed me the entire Woodward family on a silver platter, I wouldn't feel a single ounce of affection for you," he said, his voice dripping with venom.

He stepped closer, making sure every word hit her. "I only love Seraphina. This three-year marriage to you makes me physically sick."

The words hit her chest like a physical blow. Kaia swayed on her feet. Her hand shot to her stomach, pressing hard against the sudden, violent cramp.

Gerrit looked at her hand. He let out a harsh scoff. "Save the cheap acting. It won't work."

He grabbed his suit jacket from the stool. He turned and walked down the long hallway toward the guest bedroom. "I don't want to see your face for the rest of the night."

The heavy oak door of the guest room slammed shut. The sound vibrated through the floorboards.

Kaia stood alone in the center of the massive living room. A single tear broke free and slid down her cheek. The last shred of hope in her chest died, leaving behind a cold, hollow emptiness.

The harsh morning sunlight pierced through the floor-to-ceiling windows, burning Kaia's eyes. She pushed herself up from the thick carpet of the master bedroom, her joints aching and stiff.

She walked into the bathroom. She stared at her hollow cheeks in the mirror. She turned on the faucet and slapped freezing water against her face until her skin turned red and her mind cleared.

Kaia changed into a structured beige Chanel suit. She pulled her hair back into a tight, severe bun. The desperate, begging woman from last night was gone.

She walked past the guest room. The door was wide open. The bed was perfectly made. Gerrit had already left for the office.

She rode the elevator down and got into the Maybach. "Take me to the Downs Estate in Long Island."

The car drove down the tree-lined avenue, passed through the massive iron gates, and stopped in front of the main mansion.

The butler led her straight into the study. The room smelled heavily of cigar smoke and aged mahogany.

Cornelius Downs, the patriarch of the family, sat behind a massive desk, reading the Wall Street Journal.

Kaia sat in the leather chair across from him. She didn't offer a greeting. "I am divorcing Gerrit."

Cornelius stopped turning the page. His thick eyebrows pulled together. He looked at her, shocked that the usually compliant daughter-in-law was speaking to him this way.

"Absolutely not," Cornelius snapped. "A divorce right now will cause a massive drop in the Downs Group's stock price."

Kaia opened her bag. She pulled out a document and slid it across the desk. "I am voluntarily transferring all my shares in the Woodward family to Gerrit as compensation."

Cornelius looked down at the paper. A flash of greed crossed his eyes, quickly replaced by intense suspicion. "What is your real angle here, Kaia? Is this a new tactic from your father?"

"I am just tired," Kaia said, her voice completely flat. "I want to end this meaningless marriage."

Cornelius stared at her for a long time. The financial gain was too massive to ignore. He slowly nodded, giving his silent approval.

Kaia stood up. She gave a stiff, polite bow to the man who had once pretended to care for her.

She turned and walked out of the study. Her footsteps were heavy, but her chest felt lighter than it had in three years.

She got back into the car. "Drive to the Adler Law Firm in Midtown Manhattan."

When she arrived, the receptionist escorted her immediately into the private conference room of Julian Adler, the senior partner.

Julian took one look at her pale face and frowned. "Kaia, are you alright? You look terrible."

Kaia didn't answer. She reached into her bag, pulled out the medical report, and handed it to him.

Julian read the paper. The color drained from his face. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Keep this completely confidential," Kaia said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I need you to draft a divorce agreement immediately. And my final will."

She pointed to her legal file on his desk. "Transfer all the income rights of my premarital assets to Gerrit after my death. And if things deteriorate," Kaia added, her voice dropping to a whisper, "I have a contingency. A backup plan to disappear completely. I will let you know when it is time to initiate the final plan."

Julian shook his head violently. "You need to tell Gerrit the truth. You cannot go through this alone."

Kaia let out a dry, bitter laugh. "Gerrit gave me his answer last night. I don't need his pity."

Julian let out a heavy sigh. He opened his laptop and began typing rapidly, entering the complex legal clauses exactly as she demanded.

The printer spat out a thick stack of papers. Kaia picked up the heavy fountain pen. She signed her name on the will and the share transfer documents.

As she crossed the last 't', a violent wave of dizziness slammed into her brain. The room spun. She dropped the pen and gripped the edge of the heavy wooden table so hard her knuckles popped, fighting to stay conscious. The gears of her divorce were officially in motion.