Chapter 3

3

That was the night something inside me finally snapped.

It's funny how you can love someone for years and then suddenly feel absolutely nothing.

But I still finished that dinner for him.

Gavin had paid for Jace's care for a long time, and I viewed this as my final payment to him.

Once this was done, we would be even. I wouldn't owe him a thing.

Halfway through the night, Luna walked in.

She was supposedly there to deliver some files, but the drunk executives immediately zeroed in on her.

"Mr. Miller, if your pretty little secretary has a few drinks with me tonight, I'll sign the contract right now," one of them leered.

I looked at Gavin, waiting for his reaction.

I honestly thought he'd agree. He'd done it to me a hundred times before.

But Gavin grabbed Luna's hand and pulled her behind his back.

"I'll drink as much as you want," he said, his voice firm. "But she's never touched alcohol. Don't push her."

The executive's face darkened. "Does that mean you don't want the deal, Miller?"

Gavin didn't flinch. "If the deal requires harassing my staff, then keep it. Don't think so highly of yourself."

I stared at him, my heart feeling heavy in my chest.

He was willing to throw away a multi-million dollar project just to save Luna from a single glass of wine.

But what about me?

He knew my stomach was a ticking time bomb, and yet he had dragged me here to be his sacrificial lamb.

Was I just a joke to him?

The room went cold. The deal was dead, and everyone knew it.

I couldn't help it. A short, sharp laugh escaped my lips.

Every head in the room turned toward me.

I stood up, glass in hand, and walked over to Luna. But my eyes were locked on Gavin.

"Mr. Miller, she's your secretary. Drinking is part of the job description, isn't it? After all, your wife has already had five rounds."

Gavin's face turned thunderous. "Jada, that's enough. Don't be a bitch."

Luna looked like she was about to faint.

She stepped out from behind him, her hands shaking as she took the glass from me.

"Mrs. Miller is right. It's my job. I'll do it."

She tilted her head back and downed the wine in one gulp.

Gavin immediately snatched the empty glass away, his face etched with worry.

He grabbed her hand right in front of everyone.

"I don't need you to sell your soul for a contract," he growled.

Then, he walked out of the room with her, leaving me standing there alone in the silence.

I felt like a clown.

I could hear the muffled snickers from the other guests as they looked at me with pity.

I wiped a stray tear from my face and made my decision.

I drained my own glass, slammed it onto the table, and walked out into the night.

The cold wind hit me, but I didn't know where to go.

As I walked, a sharp, searing pain exploded in my abdomen.

Then came the metallic taste of blood in the back of my throat.

I collapsed against a wall, coughing violently. Blood splattered onto the sidewalk.

It was late, and the street was deserted.

With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

At the hospital, after a battery of tests, the doctor gave me the news.

It was gastric cancer.

The only silver lining was that we caught it early.

"We need to operate immediately," the surgeon said. "The cost will be around thirty thousand dollars."

Gavin gave me a credit card, but he tracked every cent.

If I spent too much, he'd interrogate me like a criminal.

I had no choice but to call him.

The phone rang and rang. Finally, someone picked up.

It was Luna's voice. "Mrs. Miller? Gavin and I are in Bora Bora on a business trip. Is there something I should tell him?"

I froze.

A business trip to Bora Bora? Give me a break.

I had begged Gavin to take me there for years, but he was always "too busy."

He wasn't busy. He just didn't want to go with me.

"Tell Gavin I have early-stage cancer," I said, my voice hollow. "I need thirty thousand for the surgery. I'm taking it from the account. I'll pay him back."

Luna gasped and started rambling about how worried she was.

I hung up. I couldn't listen to her fake concern.

Three days later, I went under the knife.

The surgery was a success. As long as I managed my health, I'd be okay.

During my entire recovery, Gavin didn't call once.

A neighbor sent me a photo while I was still in the ward.

It was Gavin, carrying a young woman's suitcases into our house. It was Luna.

I expected to feel a crushing weight in my chest.

But there was nothing.

The fire had finally burned out.