Divorced by His Fake Cancer,Now He’s Begging for My Son Back

Piers glanced at Terry nestled in my arms, a flicker of reluctance crossing his eyes.

"Grandma, I have to go through with this divorce."

"Please, just let her go."

With that, he cast me a shadowed look.

Myra was livid—for the first time, her composure cracked completely.

"Are you truly this blind? The Hensons have money, power—no matter how much it costs, I will find a way to cure you!"

Piers straightened on his knees, his gaze unwavering.

"Grandma, I'm dying. I'm begging you—let me have this."

"Get out! Get out of my sight! The Henson family has no room for a disgrace like you!"

Without a word, Piers rose and walked outside, only to kneel again in the courtyard.

"Grandma, whether you agree or not, I will end this marriage!"

Watching his stubborn figure, I felt a dull ache spread through my chest.

I held my son close and walked past him.

Piers caught the hem of my coat, tilting his face up to meet my eyes.

"Vera, for the sake of everything we've shared all these years..."

I cut him off before he could finish.

I turned my head, looking down at him.

"Piers, when you asked for this divorce—did you think about everything we've shared?"

"When you abandoned Terry without a second thought—did you think about it then?"

The question stopped him cold.

"Vera..."

I shook off his hand and walked away without looking back.

That wedding invitation—his and Minnie's—still sat in my phone's photo album.

Once, he had treated me with such care.

Even though we'd never met before our wedding.

He'd still given me every respect.

A handwritten invitation. A gown he designed himself.

Vows spoken before the officiant.

"Vera, now that we're married, I promise to be good to you—to be the husband you deserve."

"I, Piers Henson, want nothing more than to grow old by your side."

So why had everything changed?

The snow fell all night. Piers was carried back by the servants, his face flushed red from the cold.

I was packing.

He half-reclined on the bed, watching me through lowered lashes.

"Vera, I'm sorry. You're still young. You have your whole future ahead of you."

"After the divorce, I'll ask Grandma to find someone better for you. With the Henson family behind you, no one will dare mistreat you."

"As for Terry—Grandma has agreed."

Every word dripped with concern for my well-being. His eyes swam with apology.

I let out a soft laugh.

"Piers, there's no need for this. We didn't marry for love. Divorcing now just means everyone gets what they want."

I paused, then added: "And you don't need to arrange anything for me. I don't need it."

He blinked, caught off guard.

Looking at that familiar face, bitterness pooled in my chest.

"Vera..."

I looked away and didn't answer.

I kept packing, focused on the task.

Only five years of marriage, yet somehow there was so much.

The entire room was filled with gifts from Piers.

Clothes he'd bought me. Handbags. Shoes. Little souvenirs from every city he'd visited.

Each one a witness to the love we'd once shared.

But none of that mattered anymore.

I'd arrived with just a few pieces of clothing. I'd leave the same way.

Myra swept in with a doctor in tow. The moment her eyes landed on the suitcase at my feet, her expression turned to ice.

"Daughter-in-law, so eager to leave, are we?"

"I misjudged you. People like you—poor and common—you're only good for the easy times, never the hard ones."