Diagnosed Terminal, My Fiancé Chose Her ,Now Watch Me Rise

The day I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, I submitted my resignation.

The moment the news reached the department, the apprentice I'd trained with my own two hands swooped in overnight to take my place.

"Since you can't hack it anymore, why not hand the project director seat to me? The company doesn't carry dead weight."

She flung the transfer documents in my face. My fiancé of five years, who also happened to be the boss, glanced at me once and signed off on it.

I didn't cry. I didn't make a scene. I turned in my badge.

The second I stepped out the front door, the boss's phone exploded. Ninety-nine missed calls.

He picked up the overseas call from our partner, listened for three seconds, and collapsed to the floor.

……

The day I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer, I submitted my resignation.

The moment the news reached the department, the apprentice I'd mentored, Lola Fox, stepped right into my chair.

She hurled the transfer documents at my face.

The edge of the paper sliced across my cheek, leaving a thin red line.

I ignored her and looked past the desk at Wallace Gilbert.

He was my fiancé of five years and the owner of this company.

Wallace didn't even lift his head. He picked up his pen and scrawled his signature with a flourish.

"Georgette Henson, I can tell your head hasn't been in the project lately. If you're tired, go home and rest."

"The title of Mrs. Gilbert will always be waiting for you. One or two director titles don't matter."

He slid the resignation letter back toward me.

"Lola's still young. A high-pressure project like this is good training for her."

"You've walked beside me for five years. It's time you stepped behind me and enjoyed the easy life."

"Be good. Don't fight with me over something this small."

I stared at that familiar face, and a sharp pain twisted through my stomach.

The diagnosis report sat quietly in my bag. The words malignant tumor printed across it burned like a knife through my chest.

I had planned to tell him.

I had wanted to fall into his arms and cry until I had nothing left.

But now, I couldn't even summon the strength to open my mouth.

Five years.

I had walked with him from a basement startup to a hundred-million-dollar empire. I had pulled more all-nighters than I could count. I had drunk myself into gastric hemorrhages.

And all I got in return was the company doesn't carry dead weight.

I didn't cry. I didn't make a scene. I unclipped the badge from around my neck and set it on the desk.

"Fine. I'll go."

Lola let out a smug laugh.

"Take care now, mentor. If you ever run out of money, come back and beg Mr. Gilbert. Maybe he'll set you up with a nice janitorial position."

Wallace frowned slightly but didn't reprimand her.

He just waved his hand, irritated.

"Georgette, enough."

"Leave your passwords with Lola. Finance has already approved double severance. That's enough for a vacation abroad."

"Don't make me think you're the kind of woman who can't separate personal feelings from business."

I looked at him coldly.

"The passwords are in the transfer files. Find them yourself."

I turned and walked out.

No lingering. No looking back.

The moment I stepped through the front doors, my phone rang.

It was Wallace.

I declined the call and blocked his number.

Within seconds, he was calling my best friend. Then my former subordinates. My screen filled with missed calls.

I stood across the street, watching through the glass walls of the first-floor lobby.

Wallace was clutching his phone, his face drained of all color.

He answered an overseas call from Sebastian Ward.

Mr. Ward only recognized one point of contact at the company, and that was me. That deal had taken me three grueling months to close.

I watched Wallace listen for a moment, then crumple to the floor.

Lola scrambled to catch him, her hands flailing uselessly at his side.