Chapter 2

After the lawyer left the top-floor office of Dawson Group, Finnian sat there, staring at the freshly signed divorce papers on his desk. His brows were knitted so tightly, they almost formed a knot.

Walked away with nothing?

He blinked, almost thinking he misread it.

That scheming, gold-digging woman just gave up on billions she practically had in the bag?

No way!

With a cold sneer, Finnian tapped hard on the document with his long fingers.

"Playing hard to get now?" His voice was low and dripping with sarcasm. "Aurelia, is this your new move? Thinking if you pull this trick, I'll suddenly see you in a new light and change my mind?"

He couldn't stop himself from recalling the scene where she'd looked at him, eyes red but stubborn, saying, "Finnian, I don't love you. I only ever wanted your money and status."

A woman like that - who chased after vanity - was just gonna walk away empty-handed?

Impossible. This had to be another one of her stunts. She was gambling. Counting on his guilt, hoping he'd cave seeing her leave with nothing.

Yeah. That had to be it.

Trying to shake off the irritation bubbling in his chest, he forced himself to dive into the mountain of documents. Work usually helped, but this time, that damn agreement was like a thorn in his eye, always poking at him, refusing to be ignored.

Time dragged on. Outside the window, daylight faded into dusk. Neon lights flickered to life, casting a cold glow over his sharp, drawn features as he once again glanced at the file he couldn't stop thinking about.

Just then, his private phone rang. Unknown local number.

He frowned and picked it up, his tone clearly impatient. "Who is this?"

"Is this Mr. Finnian? I'm calling from the Oncology Department at Northvale General Hospital."

Hospital? Oncology?

Finnian's heart skipped a beat, a chill creeping up his spine.

"This is he. What's going on?"

"We're calling to follow up on your wife. After her diagnosis, she hasn't picked up her medication or scheduled any treatment. It's advanced-stage cancer, and delays at this stage are extremely dangerous. We'd appreciate if you could help persuade her to return to the hospital as soon as possible..."

It felt like his mind had been hit with a sledgehammer. Everything just... blanked out.

Advanced... cancer?

He shot up from his leather chair, voice rising uncontrollably, tight with disbelief. "What did you just say? Who? Aurelia? What cancer?! You've got the wrong person!"

"Mr. Dawson, we understand this is upsetting, but her diagnosis is confirmed. As her husband, you - "

"No, no, that's not possible!" he cut the doctor off, his chest heaving with every breath. "She can't have cancer! This has to be one of her acts! She's faking it to make me feel guilty, right?!"

He was practically shouting now, like yelling louder could make the truth go away - like he was trying harder to convince himself than the person on the line.

That woman would do anything to stay in his life.

She nursed him for a year and tricked him into marrying her - wasn't that her strategy all along?

Now that the divorce papers didn't work, she was clearly doubling down with something more extreme.

Faking an illness - yeah. That had to be it. She was faking it.

The nurse on the other end seemed caught off guard by his reaction. After a brief pause, she replied in a businesslike tone, "Mr. Dawson, the diagnosis is official and legally binding. Our hospital doesn't mess around with a patient's health. I suggest you take this seriously and convince your wife to begin treatment as soon as possible."

The call ended, dial tone buzzing in his ear.

Finnian stood frozen, phone still in hand, knuckles taut and pale.

His office was dead silent, save for the rough rhythm of his own breathing.

Late-stage cancer...

Left everything behind...

Those two phrases collided in his head on a loop, tangled and spinning.

A woman who used to care so much about money - would she really walk away with nothing, right when her treatment might cost a fortune?

That made zero sense.

Unless the diagnosis was true. Maybe she gave up, even on the money.

No. Hell no.

He sucked in a deep breath, trying - failing - to settle the growing storm inside. His grip tightened around his phone as he found the number he barely ever called.

"Beep... beep... beep..."

It rang for ages. No answer.

He gritted his teeth and called again. Same thing. A long string of rings, then the cold switch to voicemail.

That unease that started with the hospital call? Now it was like ivy wrapped around his chest, squeezing tighter by the second.

No answer?

Was she ignoring him? Or... had something happened?

Finnian's expression darkened, eyes cold as steel.

He slammed the intercom. His voice was like ice. "Lucas, find out where Aurelia is. The hotel she stayed at."

His assistant Lucas Grant was quick. A couple minutes later, the phone rang back.

"Mr. Dawson, we've traced it. Mrs. Bennett had been staying at Vista Grace Hotel in the west part of the city. But... she checked out earlier today."

Checked out? Today?

Finnian's calm shattered. He barked into the phone. "Then find out where she went! I don't care if you have to tear through every inch of Northvale - just bring her back!"

"Understood, Mr. Dawson."

The hours after that stretched endlessly for Finnian. Pure torture.

Lucas pulled every string he had. They looked into every hotel, airport, train station, hospital - anywhere Aurelia might have gone.

But it was like she'd vanished off the face of the earth.

No visits to old friends. No familiar restaurants or shops. No traceable transport.

She'd cut off every tie to her past.

Alone in his office, Finnian stared out at the bright but lifeless lights of the Northvale night.

For the first time ever, he knew what real panic felt like.

The kind where nothing's in your control, and you don't even know where to begin fixing it.

That's when it hit him - besides that unreachable phone number and a few things she left at the Dawson estate, he knew almost nothing about her.

He didn't know who her friends were. Where she went when she needed space. Where she'd go to cry.

Three years married, and he'd locked her in some polished cage called 'marriage' without ever even stepping into her world - or letting her into his.

He'd taken her care for granted, never giving her so much as a second thought in return.

Regret - that sharp, silent kind - stabbed through his chest, each jab sharper than the last.

He regretted it. All of it.

The cold shoulder for three years.

The careless words when she brought up Serena.

That horrible moment when she might've really needed him - yet he chose to believe she was just acting.

If the diagnosis was real...

Finnian shut his eyes fast, heart pounding. He couldn't bear to keep thinking.