Husband, Congratulations! I'm Dying

Why should I? I might ruined his car seat... So, I kept walking in the rain, pretending I didn’t hear him.

The sound of my wet shoes slapping against the pavement was the only thing I wanted to listen to.

“If you don’t get in,” Damon said behind me, “I’ll drag you in myself. Choose.”

I froze. Then the car door opened with a loud click. I didn’t want to fight. I just got in.

The moment I sat down, water dripped from my hair and soaked into the leather seat. I tried to sit as small as I could in the corner, hugging my knees, shaking.

He gave me one look and scoffed. “You really are pathetic. Even your own parents kicked you out. Guess they finally saw what kind of person you are.”

I didn’t say anything. Just looked out the window. The rain on the glass looked like veins, spreading everywhere, bleeding light.

He didn’t drive us home. We stopped in front of some fancy club instead.

My throat tightened. “Why are we here?”

He smirked and opened my door. “Come on. Let’s play.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Didn’t ask what you wanted.” He grabbed my arm. “Don’t act scared now.”

Inside, the lights were dim. The music was too loud. Harper was sitting in the middle, in her usual white dress, smiling like she owned the world.

When she saw Damon, her face lit up. “There you are! We’ve been waiting forever. Let’s play some games!”

Her friends screamed in agreement, half-drunk already. “Losers get punished!”

It started as truth or dare, or maybe some twisted version of it. It didn't matter. Damon and Harper “accidentally” lost in the first round.

“We should make them drink the wedding cup!” someone shouted.

The girls giggled and pushed the glasses forward. Harper’s face was already pink from wine. Damon looked at me, smiling like he wanted me to break, and raised the glass.

They lost again.

This time one of the girls drew a card and grinned. “Five-minute kiss. Deep. No cheating.”

The room burst into cheers.

Before I could blink, Damon’s hand was on the back of Harper’s head, kissing her like the world wasn’t watching.

I sat there, hands trembling under the table. My stomach burned even though all I drank was water.

The last punishment was worse. They made him lift Harper up and spin her like a princess. Everyone screamed and clapped. Harper’s laugh filled the whole room, loud and sweet, like she knew I was watching.

And he kept glancing at me. Waiting for a reaction. Waiting for me to cry or scream or run.

But I didn’t. I just sipped my water and stood up. “Bathroom,” I muttered. The hem of my dress brushed his knee as I walked past.

In the bathroom, I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face. The woman in the mirror looked like she’d already died. Pale lips. Empty eyes.

When I pushed the door open, Harper was leaning against the wall outside, blocking the way.

“Still pretending to be calm?” she said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “You should’ve seen Damon before we came. He said he was going to make you lose face tonight.”

I tried to walk around her. “Move.”

She grabbed my wrist. “You think you’re still Mrs. Whitlocke? He told me he only married you to get revenge. You’re nothing but a placeholder.”

I turned, staring straight into her smug face. “He can hurt me all he wants. But you?” I stepped closer, voice low and steady. “You’re just a stand-in for a dead woman. You really think that’s something to be proud of?”

Her smile twitched, then sharpened. “At least I’m alive. You won’t be, not for long.”

My eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”

She laughed softly. “You really think your pancreatic cancer was bad luck? Poor thing. Those vitamins you took every morning?” She leaned close, her breath brushing my ear. “I switched them. Months ago. Same brand, same bottle... only mine had a little something extra. Toxin. Slow poison. It burns your pancreas from the inside out.”

My stomach turned cold.

She smiled wider, eyes glinting with triumph. “I wanted to watch you rot from the inside. And guess what? It worked.”

“How dare you!”

"Yes, how dare me.”

She grabbed my collar and raised her hand, ready to strike. But then her eyes flicked over my shoulder. She froze.

Damon.

Her face changed instantly into panic replacing venom. She shoved herself backward and screamed.

“Ahhh!”

She hit the floor, clutching her forehead. Blood spilled through her fingers.

Damon rushed over, furious, scooping her up.

“Rhea!” His voice shook with rage. “You killed your sister, and now you want to kill her too? Do you even know she’s the closest I could find to Sylvia?”

The siren of an ambulance wailed somewhere outside.

He carried Harper out carefully, holding her like she was made of glass. Before he got into the car, he turned and glared at me.

“If she dies, Rhea, I’ll make sure you live wishing you didn’t.”

...

When the car drove off, I stood on the steps, the rain falling harder, soaking through everything.

Then I laughed. Damon hates me, his mistress poisoned me... What's there to left?

“Life worse than death,” I whispered. “You think I haven’t been living it already?”

I walked home alone. Damon didn’t call that night. Didn’t show up either.

But I knew he would. He always did.

At three in the morning, the sound of the front door being kicked open echoed through the villa.

The sound of the door slamming open jolted me awake.

Before I could move, Damon was already beside the bed. His face was dark, eyes colder than I’d ever seen. He yanked the blanket off me and grabbed my wrist.

“Get up.” His voice cut like ice. “You’re going to the hospital.”

I blinked at him, confused and half-asleep. “What—why?”

He didn’t answer. Just pulled harder.

“Damon, stop, you’re hurting me!”

He turned, eyes burning. “Harper needs blood. You have the same type. You’re coming with me.”

My stomach twisted. “I didn’t push her. It wasn’t me—”

“Shut up.” He shoved me toward the door. “You’ll do what you’re told.”

The ride was silent. Rain slid down the car window, and I counted each drop to keep from crying.

At the hospital, the fluorescent lights were too bright. Everything looked white and sick. Damon dragged me straight to a small room where a nurse waited.

The nurse took one look at me, hesitated. “Sir, she’s too pale. We can’t draw blood from her right now.”

“Why not?” Damon snapped.

The nurse flipped through my chart, frowning. “She has a serious medical condition. Late-stage cancer.”

“What?”