Swapped Diagnosis My Dying Husband Kicked Me Out Penniless

The moment the call connected, the shrieking began.

"Pearl, you wretched woman! The laundry's still on the floor, and you want us to starve? I heard you're sick. Well, the Lord works in mysterious ways. Get back here and sign those papers already. Stop clinging to this family like a parasite."

I held the phone a few inches from my ear and kept my voice soft. "Mom, I'm on my way home. Let me cook you all something nice. After all, there won't be many chances left."

After I hung up, I went straight to the luxury boutiques.

The sales associate took one look at my clothes and let her lip curl. "Ma'am, we operate on an allocation basis. We don't accommodate browsers who aren't here to purchase."

I said nothing. I simply pulled out the black authorized-user card.

"I'll take every color. Except green."

Her eyes lit up like a slot machine hitting jackpot, and a syrupy smile spread across her face. "Of course! Just one moment, I'll have everything prepared for you right away."

The card reader beeped again and again.

Each transaction would ping a notification straight to Thaddeus's phone.

I could picture his face.

But this was only the beginning.

I was going to make his last three months feel like an eternity of despair.

I stepped out of the store with shopping bags swinging from both hands and drew a long, deep breath.

Thaddeus, you wanted a divorce. Here's my parting gift.

One you'll remember for the rest of your life.

On the way home, I had the driver pull over at the market.

The doctors said late-stage pancreatic cancer patients couldn't tolerate greasy, sugary, hard-to-digest food. It would cause excruciating pain and accelerate the disease.

I picked out the thickest slab of pork belly I could find, then added two pounds of leaf lard.

The butcher grinned at me. "Buying all this fatty meat, miss? Got something special going on at home?"

I nodded. "A celebration, actually."

Sending my dear husband straight to his maker.

I pushed open the front door, and a gray slipper came flying at my face.

I sidestepped. It cracked against the doorframe and shook loose a puff of dust.

Mrs. Gilbert Sr. sat cross-legged on the leather sofa, cracking sunflower seeds. Shells littered the floor around her like confetti.

"Oh, so you can dodge now? Out gallivanting all day, and you still have the nerve to show your face?"

Her eyes slid sideways to my shopping bags. The logos were turned inward, but the weight of the paper, the texture of those bags, gave them away.

"What did you buy?" She shot to her feet. "Did you use my son's money on medicine again? Not one cent goes to you, you hear me? That's money my boy earned with his own sweat. It's for his future child."

I twisted my wrist and pulled the bags out of her reach.

"Just some supplements for Thaddeus." I lowered my gaze, let my voice go quiet. "The doctor said... there isn't much time left. I wanted him to eat well."

The words isn't much time left landed, and a flicker of delight crossed her face before she could smother it. She spat on the floor for show. "Bad luck! If you're going to die, hurry up and do it. Don't drag this family's fortune down with you."

She dropped back onto the sofa and crossed her legs. "Since you're on your way out, you should cough up that fifty thousand dollar dowry. I said from the start you weren't worth that price. Now we're losing the money and the wife."

A bitter taste rose in my throat.

Thaddeus had taken that fifty thousand the day after our wedding. Part of it went into his investment account. The rest had been transformed, almost overnight, into the rosewood furniture she was sitting on and the gold bangle glinting on her wrist.

And what had I gotten?

"The money's with Thaddeus," I said, setting my bag down by the shoe rack.

"Liar!" She spat a sunflower shell onto the floor with venom. "Thaddeus says you've been hiding a secret stash. This divorce is happening today, no more stalling! Paulette is carrying a Gilbert heir, so you'd better clear out and make room."

The study door opened.

Thaddeus walked out with a stony expression, still wearing the shirt I'd ironed for him the night before.