“I was just diagnosed with terminal kidney cancer. Holding the diagnostic report, I forced myself to go home and act like everything was fine. But the moment I walked in, my husband of three years threw a manila folder at me. "Sign it. Hayleigh is back, and I made her a promise." They were divorce papers. I swallowed my grief and agreed. To protect his image, I even covered for his sudden disappearance when his strict grandfather demanded his presence. But the stress triggered my illness. While I was enduring agonizing cancer cramps to rush his grandfather to the ER for a sudden heart attack, I saw my husband in the VIP ward of the same hospital. He was tenderly holding Hayleigh in his arms. When his grandfather saw them, the old man flew into a rage, beat him with a cane, and collapsed from another severe cardiac arrest. My husband didn't check on his dying grandfather. Instead, he glared at me with pure hatred. "You did this." I stared at him in disbelief. I had silently endured a loveless marriage, covered his tracks, and was literally dying of cancer, yet he thought I orchestrated a heart attack just to frame his mistress. The last shred of my love for him shattered completely. I calmly knelt down to save the old man, deciding that after signing the papers tomorrow, I would take my medical report and vanish from Jonathon's life forever.”