Diagnosed with Cancer, I ran away from my Cheater Husband

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hartwell…” The doctor’s voice was calm, too calm. “But the cancer cells have progressed. They’re spreading faster than we expected.”

I stared blankly at him, blinking once. “What… what does that mean?”

He paused—like he was choosing his words carefully, but every second only made it worse. “It means continuing your pregnancy will significantly lower your chances of survival. We need to begin chemotherapy immediately. Which means…”

I didn’t breathe.

“We’ll have to terminate the baby. You’re six months along… I know. But the procedure is necessary. If we wait, it might be too late for you.”

My hands were trembling. I didn’t even realize I had been holding onto the hem of my coat until my knuckles turned white.

My baby.

My daughter.

I nodded slowly, even though my mind screamed no. “Can I… can I make a call first?”

He offered a small nod before excusing himself.

With shaking hands, I reached for my phone. My fingers felt frozen, but I managed to hit the contact.

Jameson. My husband. My safe place… or at least he used to be.

The phone rang once. Twice.

Then a soft click.

But it wasn’t Jameson’s voice I heard.

“Oh?” The voice on the other end was flirtatious, almost amused. “Why are you calling, Mrs. Hartwell?”

My stomach dropped.

“…Rose?”

“Mmm,” she giggled, and I could practically hear the smugness in her tone. “He’s a little busy right now, love. In my bed. Want me to give him a message?”

My throat tightened. “I need to talk to him. It’s urgent.”

In the background, I heard a voice. Familiar. Male. His.

“Rose, baby, where are you? Come back here and kiss me again. You’re taking too long…”

I froze.

Still, she didn’t hang up. She wanted me to hear it. All of it.

“Jameson…” I whispered, but she didn’t respond. Instead, I heard her murmur teasingly to him, “Shouldn’t you be going home? Your pregnant wife might be wondering where her loving husband is.”

And he—he laughed.

“Who cares about my pregnant wife?” Jameson’s voice was laced with mockery. “You know I only married her because of that deal between her grandfather and mine. I needed the inheritance.”

I couldn’t breathe. I pressed my hand against my stomach.

“I love you, Rose. It’s always been you.”

She giggled again. “Then why haven’t you married me?”

“Because my grandfather insisted I give him an heir. Once the baby’s born, we’ll get rid of her. Maybe an accident. That’ll keep suspicion low. Then it’ll just be us.”

I didn’t hear anything else. Just sounds. Moaning. Laughter.

I dropped the phone to my lap and slumped onto the cold hospital floor.

It was like every word had been carved into my chest.

He never loved me.

He was waiting. Pretending.

Just so I’d give him the one thing he needed: a child to complete the illusion. And then he’d throw me away.

Tears blurred my vision. I wrapped both arms around my belly and whispered, “I’m so sorry… baby. I’m really sorry.”

How could I have been so blind?

Jameson wasn’t always like this. He used to call me his miracle. When we first got married, he’d kiss my forehead before bed. Hold my hand when I was afraid. Whisper promises that he’d never leave me.

And I believed him.

I remember the first day we met. Our grandfathers—both powerful men with old-world pride—had arranged a quiet luncheon, calling it a “strategic union” between two empires. But the moment I saw Jameson walk in, tall and confident with that soft, lopsided smile, I didn’t see strategy. I saw forever.

It was love at first sight—for me, at least.

So when he asked me to marry him just a few weeks later, I didn’t hesitate. I thought I was lucky. Chosen. I believed our marriage wasn’t just for business—it was fate. I told myself we’d grow into something real, something deep. And for a while, it even felt like we had.

Until Rose.

She entered our life exactly one year later—needing work, desperate for stability. And because she was my best friend, my sister in every way but blood, I offered her a position as my husband’s personal secretary. I gave her a future. I trusted her.

But she gave him her body.

And now? They whisper behind my back. Plot my downfall. Plan to raise my child as their own—after I’m gone.

No… not gone.

Killed.

Because that’s what this is.

Jameson doesn't just want me out of his life.

He wants me dead.

No… I wouldn’t let him.

I reached for my phone again, still trembling, and scrolled down to a name I hadn’t called in months.

Grandfather.

The line picked up in one ring.

“Diana?” His voice was gruff, concerned. “Is something wrong?”

I tried to speak but my throat caught. I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply. “Grandfather… please. I need help.”

“What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“I need to come home. Can you pick me up?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course. Tell me where you are. What about Jameson? Did you two fight?”

“I don’t care about Jameson now.” My voice cracked. “I’m going to divorce him. He betrayed me. And I’m… I’m going to terminate the pregnancy.”