Chapter 1

On my birthday, my brain tumor flared up, and I lost consciousness. As the doctor worked to save me, he picked up the phone to call my family.

My wife answered with irritation, "Really? Are you checking up on me at this age? I'm about to go on a trip to Florence with Declan. Don't call me unless it's necessary!"

My daughter added, "Good riddance if he dies. The insurance payout can be deposited into my account; my boyfriend wants a new motorcycle."

Oddly enough, hearing this, I felt a sense of relief, as if a weight had been lifted.

It’s the right time. Time to leave this cursed world behind.

When I opened my eyes again, the doctor handed me the phone with a grave expression. "Mr. Jiang, your brain tumor is pressing on your nerves. You need surgery. Discuss this with your family."

Still disoriented, I loosely held the phone in my hand. In the ER, everyone looked at me with pity, and some family members even turned away to wipe their tears.

I glanced at my phone, realizing my wife, Fiona, and my daughter, Phoebe, had blocked me.

With no other option, I messaged my rival, Fiona's first love, Declan: "Please let Fiona know she should come back soon."

To avoid any misunderstanding, I added, "I need to discuss a divorce with Fiona. It's urgent."

After resting at the hospital and taking the prescribed medication, I returned home.

When I arrived, Fiona was already seated on the sofa. She wore oversized sunglasses, a large sun hat, and a bohemian floral dress, clearly ready for vacation.

Upon seeing me, she snorted, removing her sunglasses and tossing them onto the table. "What do you want now? Declan and I were at the airport when you called us back. You're such a nuisance, no wonder Phoebe finds you annoying!"

At forty-five, Fiona had fine lines around her eyes, but she maintained her skin well. Her wavy hair and red lipstick made her appear youthful.

Declan stood behind her, massaging her shoulders and whispering affectionately in her ear, "Don't be mad, Fiona. Let's hear what Asher has to say. Maybe it's really urgent."

Declan had maintained a refined appearance over the years with beauty treatments, although his expression was a bit stiff.

I drifted off, remembering my daughter's third birthday when Fiona first forgot her cake because Declan had returned from abroad. She was distracted.

Later, when I picked up a drunken Fiona, I overheard her conversation with a friend, realizing I was just a stand-in.

Now, my temples had turned gray, and wrinkles lined my eyes and mouth, making me look nothing like Declan.

Snapping back to reality, I pulled out the divorce papers and handed them to Fiona. " Fiona, let's divorce."

Fiona, who had been enjoying Declan's massage, suddenly opened her eyes, startled.

Frowning, she snapped, "First, you pretended to be sick at the hospital. Now you're talking about divorce. Asher, you're almost fifty! What are you doing?"

Her accusations didn't stir me. Yes, almost fifty. Today is my forty-ninth birthday.

If Fiona went into the kitchen, she'd see the half-prepped ingredients of her and our daughter's favorite dishes.

But when I collapsed while washing vegetables, there wasn't a single family member by my side in our vast home.

No need to voice these grievances. Saying them would only make Fiona feel I'm being dramatic.

A dying person speaks kindly.

I had no intention of arguing; I just smiled, "Nothing much. I just realized it's best not to delay you and Declan any longer."

"Last month, when you went to the Arctic to see the aurora with Declan, you might not know my mom was buried."

"My dad drowned saving you, and my mom forced you to marry me out of gratitude. I know it was unfair to you, and you've always longed for Declan."

"I've worked diligently at your company for years, even helping it go public. That should count as some compensation."

"Now that my mom's gone, you don't have to worry about her causing any more trouble at the company."

After saying a long piece, I paused and wished, "In the future, I won't bother you anymore. It's been over ten years. You and Declan should be together. Give him a title."

Letting out words I've held in my heart, I felt relieved.

Maybe it was fear of being abandoned by Declan again, or the need to stabilize the company stock. Fiona gave Declan everything but never mentioned marriage.

Now, I, an outsider, was willing to complete them.

Fiona suddenly crumpled the divorce papers, her voice tight, "I've endured you for over twenty years. What about Phoebe?"

My daughter's words, "Good riddance if he dies," still echoed in my ears.

I smiled faintly, nodding at Declan, "It's fine. She doesn't like me. She prefers Declan. Let him take care of her."

When our daughter was young, Fiona often had Declan help with her, trying to build a good impression.

Now, I was fulfilling her wish.

But her face showed displeasure, biting her lip hard.

Her chest heaved, eyes glaring at me, trying to find anger or jealousy.

But this time, she only saw indifference.

She moved her red lips, took a deep breath, and said, "Fine, divorce, but you leave with nothing!"

She looked at me confidently, expecting me to back down at the thought of leaving with nothing.

After all, she often insulted me, calling me and my mom gold-diggers, only after her money. She despised me for exploiting a life-saving favor.

But I just nodded.

"No, I don't want the money, the house, or the daughter."