Chapter 1

"Your uterine condition is extremely concerning, Ms. Whitaker." The doctor's voice remained clinical, but her words fell like hammer blows. "To prevent further deterioration that could become life-threatening, we recommend removal surgery as soon as possible."

Elizabeth's fingers went numb around the test results. Hysterectomy. The word twisted like a knife in her abdomen as her face drained of color.

She never imagined the accident five years ago would do this—not only turn her life upside down, but now rob her of the chance to become a mother.

"Just prescribe me some painkillers for now," she managed, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll think about the surgery."

After a heavy silence, the doctor sighed and wrote the prescription.

The pharmacy line stretched endlessly.

Elizabeth leaned against the cold wall, each throb of pain in her abdomen worse than the last, her body barely staying upright.

When her turn finally came, the pharmacist frowned. "Miss, we only have one box left of these strong painkillers you need."

"One box will do," Elizabeth said quickly, reaching for this small mercy.

Just as the pharmacist turned to retrieve the medication, a familiar voice cut through the waiting room.

"Careful, the floor's slippery."

Elizabeth turned to see the last person she wanted to encounter—her husband, Cornelius Habsburg, impeccable in a tailored black suit.

Beside him stood Angelina Sullivan, her deceased best friend's cousin, pregnant belly proudly displayed.

Angelina's eyes widened with manufactured surprise. "Elizabeth? What a coincidence."

Cornelius's gaze swept over Elizabeth, hardening with disgust before he looked away.

Yet when he turned to Angelina, his voice softened with concern. "The doctor says the baby is healthy. Is anything else bothering you?"

This tenderness—Elizabeth had never known it from him.

"You're so good to me, Cory." Angelina nestled against him. "It's just my knees. The extra weight is making them ache. Could we maybe get some pain medication too?"

Cornelius immediately turned to the pharmacist. "Do you have any painkillers left?"

"Only this final box," the pharmacist replied, holding up Elizabeth's medication, "and this lady needs it too."

Before Elizabeth could speak, Angelina's hand darted forward, snatching the box from the pharmacist's grasp.

"I think these are the only painkillers pregnant women can safely take..." Angelina blinked innocently, then turned to Elizabeth with a practiced simper. "Elizabeth, since I'm pregnant... do you think you could let me have them?"

Without waiting for an answer, she backtracked with theatrical dismay.

"Oh, I'm so sorry—I didn't notice how pale you look! You probably need these more than I do." She clutched her belly protectively. "I'll try to endure it. It's just that my poor baby will have to suffer along with me."

Anger flashed through Elizabeth's pain. Those painkillers were prescribed for her.

"I'm sorry, but I need those," she said through gritted teeth, reaching for the box.

Cornelius slapped her hand away, his lips curling into a contemptuous sneer. "Five years, and you're still playing sick for sympathy? Who are you trying to kill this time?"

His words dragged up memories she'd tried desperately to bury.

If she could choose again, Elizabeth would have endured any torture rather than make that desperate call for help five years ago.

Then Daisy Sullivan—her best friend—wouldn't have died tragically. Cornelius's grandfather wouldn't have collapsed from shock. And Cornelius wouldn't hate her to his core...

"Cornelius, I—" Her lips trembled.

"Shut up!" He cut her off. "I don't want to hear a single word of your lies!"

He pulled out a thick wad of cash and threw it at her face. "Take this money and get out! You're in the way!"

Without another glance, he took the painkillers—the ones meant for her—and turned to leave.

Angelina leaned into his embrace, throwing Elizabeth a smug glance over her shoulder.

Watching them walk away, Elizabeth's pain transformed into something else—a cold, clarifying numbness.

Five years of endurance and suffering crystallized into a single moment of decision.

"Cornelius," she called out, using the last of her strength. "Let's get divorced."

The waiting room fell silent.

Cornelius turned slowly, his face a mask of contemptuous amusement. "Changing tactics? Retreating to advance? I'm not falling for it."

His voice dripped with indifference. "Divorce? Fine, have it your way. Since you no longer want to be my wife, all privileges of being Mrs. Habsburg are revoked."

"Whatever you say." Elizabeth managed a bitter smile. Had she ever truly enjoyed any privileges as his wife? Anyone could humiliate and belittle her at will.

Cornelius frowned, clearly surprised by her calm reaction. His tone darkened. "You asked for this divorce. Don't regret it."

"I won't regret it," Elizabeth replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "I hope you won't either."

Fighting through the increasingly intense spasms in her abdomen, Elizabeth forced herself through the hospital doors.

The spot where their driver should have been waiting was empty—Cornelius had probably dismissed him.

Her vision blurred with tears. The man she had loved for over a decade couldn't even be bothered to maintain the slightest pretense of decency.

Perhaps it was for the best. From now on, they would never see each other again.