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

Five years of love, and in his eyes, it didn't even measure up to a business deal.

I clenched my teeth against the searing pain and pointed at the door.

"Get out."

Wallace froze.

He'd never heard me use that tone before. I'd always been the one to accommodate him, to soothe him, to smooth things over.

"Fine, Georgette. You've got nerve." Wallace laughed, the kind of laugh that came from pure fury. "Let's see how long that backbone lasts!"

"When you can't pay your medical bills and they throw you out on the street, don't come crawling to me!"

He grabbed Lola's hand and walked out without looking back.

Lola turned at the doorway, her eyes gleaming with undisguised satisfaction.

The room fell quiet again.

I was shaking from the pain. I pressed the call button on the bed rail.

A nurse rushed in and gave me an injection. Only then did the agony ease enough for me to breathe.

The next morning, my attending physician came to see me. His expression was grim.

"Miss Henson, your health insurance and medical card have both been suspended."

I stared at him.

"On top of that, your condition has deteriorated. You need an imported specialty drug immediately." He paused. "It's extremely expensive, and there's only one dose available in the entire city."

I pulled out my bank card. "Use my own funds. There's two million dollars in this account."

The doctor shook his head.

"The drug is no longer available. Someone already bought it."

My mind went blank. "What do you mean?"

He let out a heavy sigh. "This morning, someone pulled strings and had the city's only dose of the drug picked up. Apparently it was for a patient with a scrape."

A scrape.

A life-saving drug, used on a scrape.

Wallace. It had to be Wallace.

In this city, only he had the resources to pull something like that, and only he had a reason to target me right now.

I forced myself upright and ripped the IV needle from the back of my hand. Blood beaded on my skin, but I didn't care.

I stumbled toward the door.

I couldn't die. Not yet. I hadn't lived enough. I hadn't watched the people who destroyed me get what they deserved.

I took a cab to Wallace's private estate.

The front gate was open.

I made it to the living room entrance and heard laughter drifting out from inside.

"Wallace, you're so sweet." Lola's voice, syrupy and adoring. "I just bumped my knee a little, and you had someone bring me the most expensive drug in the whole city."

Wallace chuckled, his tone impossibly gentle. "As long as you're okay. It's just medicine."

I pushed the door open and stared at them, my blood running cold.

Lola was perched on the sofa. On her knee was a single Band-Aid.

Wallace sat beside her, carefully peeling grapes and feeding them to her one by one.

When he saw me, his expression darkened.

"What are you doing here?"

I pointed at the Band-Aid on Lola's knee. My voice shook.

"You took my life-saving medication and used it on a scraped knee?"

Wallace scoffed. "Life-saving medication? Georgette, are you addicted to the theatrics?"

"Lola is a dancer. She can't have scars on her legs. That drug is excellent for scar prevention, so I bought it for her. What's the problem?"

I was trembling with rage. "That drug is for treating stomach cancer, not preventing scars!"

"Wallace, have you completely lost your mind?"

Lola ducked behind Wallace, putting on a frightened little act. "Georgette, please don't be so scary."

"It's just a box of medicine." She stepped out again, her fear evaporating as quickly as it had appeared. "I'll pay you for it."

She pulled a thick stack of cash from her purse and walked up to me.

"Here. This should be enough to buy you ten boxes, right?"

She opened her fingers.

The bills fluttered to the floor around my feet.

"Oops." She pressed a hand to her lips, eyes wide with mock innocence. "Butterfingers."

"You don't even have a job anymore, Georgette. Better pick those up while you can."

She covered her mouth and giggled.