Cancer Couldn’t Kill Me But You Did

"Ava? Where are you? What happened?"

On the other end of the line, his usually calm and composed voice was laced with panic for the first time.

I heard the rustle of fabric and the sound of a chair being pushed back abruptly. "Get my private jet ready for a flight to New York. Immediately."

I fainted again. When I woke up, Liam was sitting by my bedside, holding a container of food.

"The doctor said you fainted from malnutrition," he said, handing me a paper bag. "It's from your favorite place. I went and got it myself."

For the first time, he had set aside his pride for me. He even had fresh blisters on his fingers from a burn.

"Go and apologize to Chloe. Because of what you did this morning, she thinks you hate her and hasn't been able to rest for days," he said, seeing my expression soften.

The hand holding the paper bag trembled, and the food fell to the floor.

He shot to his feet. "Ava, I haven't said a word and you're already throwing a fit? There's a limit!"

I stared at the spilled food, my mouth open to retort, but I said nothing. I just turned my head away.

Liam took two deep breaths, trying to calm himself. "Are you determined to fight me on everything? The doctors mentioned your anemia. If you'd just show a little remorse, I could get you a spot in the clinical trial."

They were the ones who had brought me to this point, yet now they spoke of life-saving medicine as if they were granting me some great charity.

I said, "Liam, if I could, I truly wish I had never saved you in Aspen."

Liam's face turned ashen in an instant. After a moment of silence, he slammed the door and left.

I gripped the sheets, large tears rolling onto the bedspread. After drying my eyes, I saw a doctor walking toward me. "Your condition is very poor, and you're also experiencing vaginal bleeding. While you were unconscious, we ran some tests. The results show you're three months pregnant."

I froze. Three months. It happened on our wedding day. That one time... and it resulted in this.

My first instinct was to tell the baby's father, but as my gaunt fingers touched my lower abdomen, I remembered his heartlessness.

The doctor asked, "Should we notify the father?"

I shook my head, my voice hoarse. "I want to have an abortion. Doctor, please schedule the surgery for me."

The doctor looked troubled. After consulting with her colleagues, she told me, "Your physical condition is extremely poor. The procedure carries a high risk of major hemorrhage. If you insist on going through with it, we need the father's signature."

They said, "Please don't make things difficult for us."

I lowered my head. "I understand."

I opened my contacts, hesitated for a long time, and finally put my phone down.

I struggled out of bed, changed my hairstyle, and put on an intern's white coat and a mask. I took a cab to the Kingston Group headquarters.

Security at the Kingston Group was notoriously strict, yet they waved me through the moment I claimed to be an architectural intern delivering designs for a charity project.

Liam was in the middle of an international conference call and didn't even look up at me.

I held a stack of contracts disguised as architectural blueprints and said, "Mr. Kingston, these are the designs for the new charity project. They require your signature."

Liam gave them a cursory glance and started signing.

"I remember you like Bouchon Bakery next to Central Park. Buy yourself some pastries on your way back."

The pastries there were expensive, but during Liam's amnesia, I often spent a month's salary to treat him there because he seemed to have a natural fondness for the taste. I once thought it would be our special memory.

I never imagined the place was important to him only because Chloe liked it too.

I murmured my agreement.

The last "design" was the surgical consent form. He was about to open it for a closer look when his name was called on the conference call.

His gaze shifted to the screen as his hand signed his name on the consent line.