On My Funeral Day, My Husband Married His First Love

With my permission, Dylan visited the Hernandez villa more and more frequently.

Sometimes I wouldn't see him for ten days to half a month.

Because of this, I could spend countless nights vomiting uncontrollably.

My condition had worsened rapidly. My attending doctor said it was progressing much faster than expected.

How could it not?

I forced a smile.

My husband was cheating. The mistress was pressing for the throne. I still had to act like nothing was wrong and handle business as usual at the company, staying busy day and night.

Even a healthy person would collapse under such circumstances.

Let alone a terminal cancer patient.

My doctor advised me to be hospitalized, but what was the point?

My only family had betrayed me. Whether I lived or died, no one cared anymore.

Dragging it out for a few more months wouldn't change anything.

Instead of living in pain and suffering, it would be better to die quickly and spare myself from seeing Mary flaunting her love on social media every day.

Oh, I forgot to mention, that pregnant girl who came to confront me is called Mary.

She claimed to be the best gift for Dylan this summer.

How romantic.

If I were half as romantic as she was, Dylan might not have cheated.

But sadly, none of that mattered anymore.

Because I had someone look into her past and discovered some very interesting things.

The little girl had met many rich second-generation heirs and wealthy bosses while still in college. Dylan was just one of them.

And the child in her belly?

I laughed.

Surprises always come so unexpectedly.

I wondered if Dylan would still feel the joy of being a father once he knew.

The Hernandez villa was no longer enough for Mary's ambition and greed.

She came to my home and confronted me. Her arms crossed, arrogantly demanding, "Give up the house! The baby and I will live here!"