Dying, I Left His Ruthless Bed

The Cameron family clinic smelled like lemon polish and impending death. For three years, I'd been a vessel in a cold, forced marriage to Underboss Kade Cameron. But today, the doctor's words would shatter everything.

"No heartbeat," Dr. Finch declared, then, "Stage IV gastric cancer. Terminal." A double death sentence. As the world tilted, a news alert flashed: Kade, my husband, parading his mistress, Carla Shaw, across Europe-"a love that defies family lines."

Dying and carrying his dead child, I overheard nurses gossip Kade wanted me gone for his "true love." I chose to feel the D&C agony, cleansing him from my soul. Stumbling out, Kade accused me of killing his child, then rushed Carla, feigning illness, to OB/GYN, ignoring my bleeding and dying state.

Back at the mansion, I vomited blood, my body failing. Kade watched with disgust, dismissing my terminal diagnosis as a "performance." He called me "collateral," a "debt payment," then left me for his mistress. The last shred of loyalty shattered, replaced by chilling clarity.

I signed the divorce papers he dismissed as a "tantrum," leaving his ring. No longer a Cameron, no longer his possession. With Fluffy, I made one call, choosing to die on my own terms, finally free.