My Terminal Diagnosis, His Cruel Divorce

Adaline pushed open the heavy walnut door of the Manhattan penthouse. The freezing rain from the street still clung to her trench coat, seeping through the fabric and chilling her skin. A sudden, violent cramp seized her stomach. She bent forward, her breath hitching as a wave of nausea washed over her. She desperately clutched the damp piece of paper hidden deep in her coat pocket. The paper that confirmed she had six months left to live.

She raised her head, fighting the acid burning her throat. The penthouse was mostly dark, illuminated only by the city lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Gerard stood there. His back was to her. His tailored suit was immaculate, completely untouched by the storm outside.

Adaline parted her dry lips. She wanted to tell him about the hospital. She wanted him to turn around and hold her.

Before she could form a single word, Gerard turned. His eyes were flat, devoid of any warmth. He did not ask why she was soaked. He did not ask why she was pale and trembling. He simply picked up a thick file from the Italian leather coffee table and tossed it.

The heavy stack of papers slid across the smooth surface and fell off the edge, landing right at Adaline's wet boots.

The bold black letters on the crisp white paper glared up at her. Divorce Agreement.

An invisible hand wrapped around Adaline's throat, squeezing until her lungs burned for air. Her breathing stopped entirely.

Gerard reached up and loosened his tie. His voice was steady, a stark contrast to the roaring thunder outside. "Kena is back. Her condition is worsening. I do not have time to play this game with you anymore. We are ending this marriage."

The room spun. The floor beneath Adaline felt like it was giving way. Thirteen years. She had loved this man in secret for thirteen years, long before the marriage contract, long before he became the CEO of the Crosby empire. Now, all of it was reduced to a joke. She dug her fingernails into her palms, welcoming the sharp sting of her own skin breaking. It was the only way to stay standing.

She found her voice, though it sounded like broken glass. "We made a promise to your grandfather. You cannot just end this."

Gerard let out a low, mocking laugh. "Do not use my grandfather as a shield. We both know why you signed that contract two years ago. You wanted the Crosby wealth. You got what you wanted. Now it is time to leave."

His words hit her like a bucket of ice water poured directly over her head. The accusation of greed shattered her remaining pride. The terminal diagnosis in her pocket was crushed into a tight ball under her trembling fingers. She would rather die than show him that piece of paper now.

Gerard took a step forward. He pulled a silver Montblanc pen from his inner pocket and held it out to her. The cold metal gleamed in the dim light.

Adaline looked at the pen, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She did not take it. She tilted her head up, searching his dark eyes for a single trace of the warmth they had shared over the last two years. She looked for the man who sometimes covered her with a blanket when she fell asleep on the sofa. She found nothing but pure annoyance.

Gerard pulled his hand back. He lifted his wrist and checked his Patek Philippe watch. "I need to be at the hospital. Kena is waiting for me. I am not going to waste my night arguing with you."

The name hit Adaline right in the chest. Kena. The woman he thought he owed his life to. Adaline took a sudden step backward, her heel catching the edge of the entryway rug. She lost her balance and crashed into the tall ceramic vase resting against the wall.

The vase tipped over and shattered against the marble floor. The loud crash echoed through the empty living room.

Gerard frowned. A flash of deep disgust crossed his face.

Adaline dropped to her knees. Her vision blurred with unshed tears. She reached out to gather the broken pieces. A sharp edge sliced deep into her index finger. Dark red blood welled up instantly, dripping down and staining the pristine white rug beneath her.

Gerard shifted his weight. His body moved forward on pure instinct, his hand reaching out toward her bleeding finger.

Then, his phone rang.

It was a soft, melodic tune. The custom ringtone he had set exclusively for Kena.

Gerard froze. He pulled his hand back as if he had been burned. He reached into his pocket and answered the call without a second of hesitation.

His voice changed completely. The coldness vanished, replaced by a gentle, soothing tone that Adaline had never heard directed at her. "I am on my way. Do not cry. I will be right there."

Adaline stayed on her knees. She listened to him comfort another woman while her blood soaked into the carpet. Her heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice. The tears she had been fighting finally broke free, falling hot and heavy onto the back of her bleeding hand.

Gerard ended the call. He glanced down at the blood on the floor with a blank expression. "Tell the housekeeper to clean this up tomorrow morning."

He grabbed his dark wool coat from the chair and walked toward the door. He brushed past Adaline's shoulder without slowing down, bringing a rush of cold air with him.

Adaline stood up. Her legs shook, but she forced herself to turn around. "Gerard."

He stopped with his hand on the brass doorknob. He did not look back.

"In the thirteen years you have known me," she asked, her voice raw and completely broken. "Did you ever love me? Even for a single second?"

The silence in the room was deafening. Gerard stood perfectly still for a moment. Then, he spoke to the door.

"It was a transaction, Adaline. Do not entertain unrealistic fantasies."

The heavy door slammed shut. The vibration rattled the walls and drained the last ounce of strength from Adaline's body. She collapsed onto the floor, sitting right in the middle of the broken porcelain.

She pulled her hand out of her pocket. The crumpled hospital diagnosis was stained with her own blood. She stared at the words. Advanced Stomach Cancer. A low, agonizing sob tore out of her throat. She pressed her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle the sound of her own despair in the empty apartment.

Another violent cramp ripped through her stomach. The pain was blinding. She curled into a tight ball on the rug, gasping for air. Cold sweat soaked through her clothes, making her shiver violently. There was no one here to help her. There was no one to call.

Her phone vibrated on the floor. The screen lit up the dark space. It was a text from her best friend, Clara. "Did you get the test results back? Is everything okay?"

Adaline stared at the glowing screen. Her fingers were stiff and covered in dried blood. She typed slowly. "Everything is completely normal."

She dropped the phone. She grabbed the edge of the heavy sofa and pulled herself up. Her joints ached, but she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. She walked into the bathroom and flipped the light switch.

She looked at the mirror. Her face was as pale as a ghost. Dark circles bruised the skin under her eyes. She looked like a woman who was already dead.

She turned on the faucet. She scooped up handfuls of freezing water and splashed them violently against her face. The shocking cold numbed her skin and cleared the fog in her head. She needed to stay awake. She needed to keep whatever dignity she had left.

Adaline turned off the water. She grabbed a towel and dried her face. She walked back out into the living room and picked up the divorce agreement from the floor.

She flipped to the last page. Gerard had already signed it. His signature was bold, aggressive, and final.

Adaline took a deep breath. The despair in her eyes slowly hardened into a layer of solid ice. She did not reach for a pen. Instead, she walked over to the console table, opened the top drawer, and threw the papers inside. She slammed the drawer shut. She was not going to let him dictate the end of her life. She would finish this on her own terms.

The next morning, the penthouse smelled like stale rain and cold marble. Adaline stood in front of the bathroom mirror, applying a third layer of thick concealer under her eyes. The pale, sickly hue of her skin was completely hidden beneath the expensive makeup. She slipped into a sharp Chanel suit, the structured shoulders giving her a false sense of armor.

She walked out of the bedroom holding a cup of black coffee. The front door clicked open. Gerard walked in. The crisp morning air clung to his coat. He had not come home last night.

He stopped in the entryway. He saw the coffee in her hand and his brow furrowed. It was a signature look of his, a habit he formed whenever something was out of place. "You should not drink black coffee on an empty stomach."

Adaline let out a dry laugh. She stepped back, avoiding his reaching hand as he tried to take the cup from her. "People getting a divorce do not need fake concern, Gerard."

Gerard's hand froze in midair. The air in the room instantly dropped ten degrees. He was not used to her speaking to him with such sharp edges. His eyes darkened.

He pulled off his tie and threw it onto the sofa. "Have you thought about what I said last night? My lawyers are waiting at the Wall Street office."

Adaline walked over to the console table. She opened the drawer, pulled out the divorce agreement, and dropped it onto the glass coffee table. She flipped it open to the last page right in front of him.

Gerard watched her. The corner of his mouth lifted into a cold smirk. He assumed she was finally giving in. "I will have my assistant transfer the compensation funds to your account by noon."

Adaline picked up the silver pen resting on the table. She held it for a second, then tossed it aside. The metal clattered loudly against the glass. "The compensation is too low. It is not enough to buy out two years of my youth."

The disgust in Gerard's eyes deepened. He crossed his arms over his chest. "So you finally show your true colors. You are just as greedy as I always thought."

A sharp, gnawing ache chewed at the lining of Adaline's stomach. She swallowed hard, forcing the pain down. She lifted her chin and looked him dead in the eye. "I am agreeing to this divorce because the man I truly love has returned to the country."

Gerard's pupils contracted violently. His tall frame suddenly stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a second. A massive wave of pressure rolled off him.

He stared down at her, his eyes searching her face for any sign of a lie. "Who is he?" His voice was dangerously low.

Adaline did not back down. She held her ground, looking right back at him. "He is a senior executive at a Wall Street investment bank. And he knows how to love someone much better than you ever could."

Gerard's jaw locked. A muscle ticked in his cheek. A sudden, unexplainable rage erupted in his chest. He reached out and grabbed Adaline's wrist. His grip was brutal, his fingers digging into her skin like iron clamps. "Do not play these pathetic games with me, Adaline."

Adaline winced at the pain. She twisted her arm, ripping her wrist out of his grasp. "Why? Are you the only one allowed to have a precious first love? Am I not allowed to have someone waiting for me?"

Gerard lost his temper completely. He lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders and shoving her hard against the cold wall. His chest heaved. His heavy breathing hit her cheek.

They were inches apart. Adaline could smell his cologne, but beneath it, she smelled the sharp, sterile scent of hospital disinfectant. The smell of Kena.

Her stomach tied into a violent knot. A wave of intense nausea hit her so fast she could not breathe.

She shoved both hands against his chest, pushing him away with all her strength. She ran across the room, threw open the bathroom door, and fell to her knees in front of the toilet. She violently dry-heaved, her body shaking as acid burned her throat.

Gerard stood in the doorway. The anger in his eyes froze. He watched her thin shoulders tremble with every heave. A brief flash of panic crossed his face.

He took a step forward and reached out to pat her back.

Adaline slapped his hand away without looking at him. "Get out."

Gerard stood frozen. Adaline reached up and flushed the toilet. She stood up slowly and walked over to the sink. She rinsed her mouth and looked up. In the mirror, she saw Gerard staring at her pale face. His eyes were calculating.

She knew he was suspicious. She had to hide the cancer. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and let out a cold laugh. "Do not flatter yourself. I am throwing up because looking at you makes me sick."

The words hit their mark. The brief moment of concern in Gerard's eyes vanished instantly. His face turned to stone.

"Be at the law firm at three o'clock," he said, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

He turned around and walked out. The heavy front door slammed shut behind him.

Adaline's knees gave out. She slid down the cold bathroom tiles and hit the floor. She pressed her hands against her stomach, trying to stop the agonizing cramps. She pulled a small orange pill bottle from her pocket, shook out two painkillers, and swallowed them dry.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. It was a text message from the manager of an underground private club. "Your VIP booth is confirmed for tonight, Mrs. Crosby."

Adaline stared at the message. She was going to sign the papers today. She was going to end thirteen years of a stupid, one-sided love. She needed a drink. She needed to bury her feelings in a place where no one knew her name.

The underground private club in Manhattan was a sensory overload of heavy bass and expensive perfume. Adaline sat at the dimly lit bar, wearing a black velvet dress that exposed her shoulder blades. She lifted a shot of tequila and swallowed it in one go. The spicy liquid burned a path down her throat, irritating her fragile stomach lining, but the physical burn was a welcome distraction.

A few young Asian executives from Wall Street whispered nearby, their eyes scanning her like prey. Adaline ignored them. A man in a tailored suit approached and offered to buy her next drink. She gave him a cold look and shook her head. She stood up, her head spinning slightly, and walked toward the hallway leading to the restrooms.

As she passed the staircase, a muffled crash of glass from a VIP room on the second floor stopped her in her tracks. A low curse followed.

Adaline's heart slammed against her ribs. It was Gerard's voice.

She crept up the stairs and moved quietly down the carpeted hallway. She stopped outside the heavy door of the VIP room. It was slightly cracked open. She peeked through the narrow gap.

Gerard was slumped against a leather sofa. He was pulling at his tie, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. His face was flushed red, and sweat dripped down his temples.

Sitting across from him was Frederick Whitney, his biggest rival in the corporate sector. Frederick was smiling. "That whiskey should hit your bloodstream any second now, Gerard. Let us see how the board reacts when the photos of you and the girls get leaked tomorrow morning."

Adaline's blood ran cold. Gerard had been drugged. Frederick was setting up a trap to ruin his reputation and steal the upcoming merger deal.

Her first instinct was to call the police. But she stopped. If the police raided this club, the scandal would still hit the news. The Crosby family stock would plummet at the opening bell.

Frederick stood up and walked toward the door. "I will go get the entertainment ready."

Adaline quickly stepped back and pressed herself into the dark shadows of an alcove. Frederick walked past her without noticing, heading toward the back stairs.

The second he was gone, Adaline rushed to the VIP room door, slipped inside, and locked it behind her.

Gerard's eyes were bloodshot. He could not focus his vision. He let out a low, furious growl like a trapped animal. "Get the hell out of here."

Adaline ran to him. She clamped her hand over his mouth. "Be quiet. I am getting you out of here."

Gerard struggled, but then he stopped. He inhaled deeply. The familiar scent of cedar mixed with tequila filled his senses. The violent rage in his body quieted for a fraction of a second.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. High heels clicking against the floorboards. Frederick was coming back with the women.

Adaline grabbed Gerard's arm and pulled him up. He was incredibly heavy. She dragged him toward the back of the room and pushed open the concealed staff door that she knew led to the service corridors.

They stumbled into the narrow, unlit hallway. Gerard's body heat was terrifying. He felt like he was burning alive from the inside out. He leaned heavily against Adaline, almost crushing her against the concrete wall.

The drug took full control. Gerard lost all sense of reality. He slammed Adaline against the cold wall, pinning her in place.

His hot mouth crashed down against her neck. His kisses were frantic, messy, and driven by pure chemical need. He let out a ragged, painful breath against her skin.

Adaline's heart hammered in her chest. She pushed against his solid chest. "Gerard, stop. Wake up."

He did not hear her. His strength was overwhelming. He grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. His eyes were completely dark, filled with a primal need to consume.

He reached for the neckline of her dress. Just as his fingers hooked into the fabric, the heavy metal security door at the end of the hall groaned open. A beam from a flashlight swept across the floor.

Adaline panicked. She leaned forward and bit down hard on Gerard's shoulder.

Gerard flinched. The sharp pain pierced through the fog in his brain just enough to make him loosen his grip.

Adaline grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the exit door before the security guard could spot them. They burst out into the underground parking garage that connected the club to The Obsidian Hotel next door.

She pulled out her keys, planning to shove him into her Porsche. But Gerard suddenly collapsed against the hood of a parked car. He curled into a tight ball, clutching his chest. The drug was pushing his heart rate to a dangerous limit.

She could not drive him like this. He needed to lie down immediately. Adaline dragged him toward the private elevator reserved for hotel VIPs. The Obsidian was a flagship property under the Crosby empire, and as the CEO's wife, her black card granted her emergency access to any vacant room. She pulled it out and swiped it. The doors opened, and she hauled him inside. She pressed the button for the penthouse suite, knowing it was kept strictly off the public registry for their family's private use.

The elevator shot upward. The sudden shift in gravity made Gerard sicker. He wrapped his arms around Adaline, burying his face in her neck, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

The doors dinged open. Adaline dragged him down the silent hallway and pushed open the door to the massive Obsidian suite. She kicked the door shut behind them.

Before she could even reach for the light switch, Gerard moved. He spun her around and pushed her hard against the thick carpet. The drug completely erased the last of his restraint. The room was pitch black, and there was no escape.