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

I stared at the money scattered on the ground, my stomach churning violently.

A mouthful of blood surged up and out.

It splattered across Lola's white dress.

"Ahh!"

Lola shrieked and stumbled backward. "You psycho! That's disgusting!"

Wallace shot to his feet. When he saw the blood, something flickered in his eyes—panic, maybe. But it vanished just as fast, replaced by that familiar coldness.

"Georgette, you're actually coughing up blood now to guilt me into giving in?"

"You think this is going to make me feel sorry for you?"

I pressed a hand to my chest and sank to the floor, too weak to stay upright. My vision darkened at the edges.

"Wallace, give me the medicine..."

My voice came out thin, barely there.

"I'm really... I can't hold on much longer..."

Wallace walked over and stood above me, looking down.

"You want the medicine? Fine."

"Apologize to Lola. Promise me you'll go back to the office tomorrow and close the Ward deal."

"Then I'll give it to you."

I looked up at him. Tears and blood ran together down my chin. The taste was metallic and sweet.

This was the man I'd loved for five years.

He'd sacrifice my life for Lola's scraped knee.

I closed my eyes and forced out two words with everything I had left.

"In your dreams."

Wallace's composure shattered.

"Fine! Then go ahead and die!"

He grabbed me by the collar and dragged me toward the door.

"Don't stain my carpet!"

I tumbled down the front steps.

The door slammed shut in my face.

Rain hammered against my skin.

Cold. So cold.

My consciousness started to slip.

Just as I thought I was going to die in the rain, a pair of black leather shoes stopped in front of me.

I forced my eyes open. Through the blur, all I could make out was a tall silhouette.

A man, holding a black umbrella.

He crouched down. Long fingers pressed against my neck, checking my pulse.

"Still alive."

His voice was low, laced with authority.

"Take her."

I blacked out.

When I came to, I was lying in a soft bed. The room around me was lavish. I caught the faint scent of agarwood.

"Awake?"

That same low voice, right beside the bed.

I turned my head and saw the man from the rain.

He wore a tailored suit, every feature sharp and defined.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

I tried to sit up, only to realize I was hooked to an IV line.

"Dennis Delgado."

Three syllables. That was all he offered.

I froze.

Dennis Delgado. The man who controlled a multinational medical empire.

Why would he save me?

"You were dying."

Dennis tossed a medical chart onto the bed in front of me.

"Late-stage stomach cancer. Malnourished, compounded by acute physical trauma. Three days, at most."

A bitter laugh escaped me.

"I know."

"The medicine was taken. I couldn't afford more."

Dennis studied me, one brow lifting slightly.

"One vial of medicine, and you were willing to let yourself be destroyed over it?"

He snapped his fingers.

The door swung open. More than a dozen doctors in white coats filed into the room.

"This is a specialized oncology team." Dennis gestured toward them.

"From this moment on, your life is in my hands."

I stared at him, stunned.

"Why? We're strangers. You owe me nothing."

Dennis leaned in close, his lips near my ear.

"Because you have something I want."

"The core technology behind the Ward deal. That's your work."

My pupils contracted.

He even knew about that.

"Help me secure that technology, and I'll give you your life back."

Dennis straightened, looking down at me.

"It's a good deal."