Trapped in a Marriage Fueled by Revenge

Courtney's POV

I walked away from Clive King when he loved me the most.

Now that he was successful, he was doing everything in his power to bring me back.

People say I was his first love—the one he loved the most.

But he has had countless lovers, flaunting them in front of me just to humiliate me. He swore he’d make me suffer for the rest of my life.

What he didn't know was that I’m dying.

I had already picked out my burial plot when I got his call.

"Clive, I’m dying."

There was silence at first, then his voice soon came through, sharp and seething.

"Courtney, you belong to me. Even in death, you need my permission. You have ten minutes—come here and shoot the scene."

I was exhausted, but at least the doctor said I had three months left. Then I’d finally be free.

——

When I arrived at the TV station, Clive looked at me with open disdain before shoving me into the dressing room and leaving without another word.

"Mrs. King, I’m Vania Heath, your makeup artist. The only part left to film is the promotional shoot with Mr. King."

"Hold on, Vania, my foundation looks patchy. Can you fix it?"

The voice was sweet and innocent—a newcomer named Tamara Macgee.

When our eyes met, she arched a delicate brow with a smug expression, giving me a once-over. Her makeup was flawless.

Quickly, realization dawned on me. She was Clive’s latest fling.

Vania hesitated for a moment but eventually gave in and walked over to her.

"Vania, people say I look like Mrs. King. That’s why NeoXtreme hired me as their game ambassador. What do you think? Do I look like her? Look at her—sallow skin, bony frame. She looks half-dead. How could she compare, right? Clearly, I’m way prettier than her," Tamara scoffed, smirking.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles, a pale, sickly complexion, and an oversized sweater hanging off my thin frame.

She wasn’t wrong. I did look like I was dying.

"Tamara, she’s still the boss’s wife. Watch your words—she might complain us to him," her assistant warned, but the mockery in her tone was obvious.

"What’s there to be afraid of? She’d need Clive to actually care before she could complain. Besides, he hasn’t been home in two months," Tamara confidently replied and tilted her chin, exuding the confidence of a winner.

It made me realize that Clive really did treat her differently.

Before, no matter how many women he paraded around, they were just tools to provoke me, ways to test my reaction. He never kept them around for long—one week at most.

But Tamara? She was different.

In just two months, she had gone from an unknown rookie to an up-and-coming star. Magazine covers, brand endorsements, packed schedules—all of those were brought by Clive’s influence.

"Miss Courtney, the boss got you some drinks! He said you looked pale and thought you’d want something warm," Trina Shorts, Clive's secretary, called out cheerfully as she entered the room.

Seeing that, Tamara’s face stiffened, turning a shade of irritated red. The others lowered their heads, suppressing their laughter.

I gave Trina a grateful smile. "Thank you."

It was my favorite—white hot chocolate.

Lately, chemotherapy had left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I had been craving something sweet.

But just as I was about to take a sip, a strong hand snatched it away.

"When did I say this was for you?" Clive coldly roared, then turned to Tamara. "Tamara, I didn’t know which variation you liked, so I bought all of them for you."

He then looked back at me, waiting—no, savoring—my reaction.

"Really? Thank you, Clive!" Tamara beamed, kissing him on the cheek, the exaggerated smack echoing through the room.

She then smiled, showing her barely visible dimples and making her eyes curve just like mine used to when I was younger.