My Wife's Former Lover Set Our House on Fire When I Got Cancer

"Aside from multiple broken bones, the cancer cells have spread aggressively. Given the circumstances, your life expectancy is shorter than we originally estimated."

I listened to him, my face expressionless. Oddly, my first reaction was relief. Living in Serena’s world of lies had been suffocating. It was strange, but death could indeed be a form of liberation.

After everyone left, I grabbed my phone and checked the latest news online. The backlash had spiraled out of control. The rescue team’s leaders had been forced to release a statement.

But instead of admitting their failure, they pinned the blame on me.

In a video, the commander spoke with a measured tone, his words carefully chosen to turn the tide against me.

"The fire was staged," he claimed.

"James orchestrated everything out of jealousy. He intentionally tried to harm others, wasting our rescue resources and putting our dedicated firefighters in danger."

With every sentence, he subtly redirected the public’s anger, which turned me into the villain.

And then, to make matters worse, Serena personally stepped in.

She registered an official account under her real name and posted our marriage certificate. With one move, she destroyed any chance I had at defending myself. The outrage that had once been aimed at the rescue team now turned on me.

The comments were brutal. My account was flooded with hate. And then I was officially banned.

No matter what I said, my words were drowned out by the scorn of netizens. I refused chemotherapy, yet my hair still fell out within days. Over the next month, I could feel the growing hostility from the hospital staff.

They whispered just loud enough for me to hear.

"This is karma."

"He deserves it."

"If it weren’t for our professional ethics, he’d have been kicked out by now."

Every day, I received deliveries from different places. Each package contained a new threat. A cruel reminder that, in the eyes of the world, I was already dead. I never defended myself.

But on the day the doctor finally said I could be discharged, I sent a single message to Serena.

[Meet me at the City Hall tomorrow. Let’s finalize the divorce.]

She called me immediately, seizing the opportunity to gloat.

"What? You finally ran out of places to hide? You actually have the nerve to show up now?"

"I warned you. I gave you a chance to withdraw the online backlash, but you didn’t listen. Now, don’t blame me for being ruthless!"

"If it weren’t for Roman pleading for you, I would’ve had you arrested already! Fine, divorce it is. Just don’t come crawling back, begging me later!"

Before I could respond, she hung up. I remained silent and opened my home surveillance software. With a few clicks, I retrieved the security footage of Roman setting the fire that night.

The next morning, I was discharged from the hospital and went straight to the City Hall with my ID in hand. But when the time came, it wasn’t Serena who showed up. It was Roman.

He smirked, stepping closer.

"I told you before you can’t win against me."

His voice was dripping with amusement.

"Your wife? She’s just my little lapdog."

His eyes flickered over my burnt skin and his smirk widened as if he had discovered something amusing.

"Oh? Didn’t Serena save you that night? Then how did you end up like this?"

He took a step forward, lowering his voice.

"Not that it matters. You won’t last long with advanced bone cancer. Two lifetimes, burned twice. It looks like you really are cursed to die early."

My body froze.

Roman was reborn too?

I didn’t even have time to process the revelation before my fist collided with his face. I was weak from illness, so my punch didn’t have much force behind it. But to my surprise, Roman stumbled back and collapsed onto the ground.

"Roman!" Serena’s frantic voice rang out behind me.

Before I could react, she shoved me aside with all her strength. I lost my balance. Without further ado, I tumbled down the stone steps.

The sharp impact sent a burst of pain through my body.

By the time I stopped rolling, my vision blurred and I could taste blood in my mouth. My coat had torn open, revealing the sickly, wrinkled skin beneath. The wig I wore had fallen to the side. It left behind nothing but a bald, scarred scalp.

Serena rushed toward Roman, but when she turned back to me, her face went pale. She stared at me, frozen, as if finally seeing me for the first time. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out and touched the scars on my face.

"How… how could this happen?" she whispered.

Her gaze flickered downward and something on the ground caught her attention. It was my medical diagnosis, which had fallen from my pocket during the fall. She picked it up with trembling hands.

"What is this…?"