He Begged Me Back After I Was Dead
Lily · Completed · 6.5k Words
Introduction
[Four Seasons Hotel. Romance Suite. Check-in: 3:00 PM.]
3:00 PM. The exact moment I was begging the doctor for painkillers, Alexander was in a hotel bed with another woman.
I looked at him, sleeping soundly beside me. I had loved this man for five years, sold everything to help him succeed. Now, in the final countdown of my life, he gave me the most fatal blow.
"I'm exhausted from meetings," he had lied, smelling of Santal 33 and another woman's sex.
I clenched the receipt until my nails dug into my flesh. I wouldn't tell him about the cancer.
I would use whatever time I had left to make him regret ever being born.
Chapter 1
"I'm so sorry, Victoria. The cancer has spread much faster than we anticipated. You have two months at most—maybe less."
Inside the top-tier private hospital in Manhattan, the elderly doctor pushed up his glasses, his tone heavy.
I sat on the edge of the examination bed, my fingers twisting the white sheets into knots.
"Doctor... is there really nothing else we can do?" My voice trembled.
He shook his head helplessly. With what little strength I had left, I asked him to prescribe some strong painkillers.
"I understand. Just give me the strongest painkillers you have. I have things I need to take care of."
Stepping out of the hospital, the cold wind slashed against my face like a knife.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Alexander's number. It rang for what felt like an eternity before he finally picked up.
"Alec..." The moment I heard his voice, tears pricked my eyes. All my grievances and paralyzing fear were right on the verge of pouring out.
"Victoria, I'm swamped right now. I'm in the middle of a meeting, let's talk later." He dropped the impatient brush-off and hung up straight away.
He wasn't the same man he used to be. He was a CEO now, busy building his empire. I knew I should be more understanding, but tears slipped down my cheeks anyway.
I just wanted to tell him how terrified I was.
11:00 PM. I sat in our penthouse overlooking Central Park. Only when the cigarette burned down to my fingertips, searing my skin, did I snap out of my daze.
The sound of the front door unlocking broke the silence.
"Why are you still up?" Alexander loosened his tie and tossed it onto the sofa, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
"Alec..." My eyes reddened again, my voice fragile. "I went to the hospital for my checkup today. The doctor said..."
"Oh, same old, right?" he interrupted, walking over to the minibar to pour himself a glass of whiskey. "Victoria, you've just been working too hard lately. Take some time off and you'll be fine."
He took a sip of his drink, walked over, and pulled me into his arms.
"I've been in meetings with the Silicon Valley guys all day. I'm exhausted."
But the moment he held me, a strong, entirely unfamiliar perfume assaulted my senses.
My gaze dropped to the collar of his pristine white shirt. Right there was a faint, pink lipstick stain.
"Meetings all day?" I looked at him coldly, my eyes like daggers. "In which hotel bed were these meetings held?"
Alexander froze. He followed my gaze downward, and his face instantly paled. But he quickly regained his composure, replacing his panic with a flash of anger.
"Victoria, what kind of crazy trip are you on now? A waitress accidentally brushed against me during lunch with the investors."
"A waitress?" I couldn't help but scoff. "Since when do waitresses wear Tom Ford lipstick? Alexander, your lying skills are getting sloppy."
"Can you stop being so unreasonable?" He slammed his whiskey glass onto the table with a harsh, jarring clatter.
I flinched at the sudden noise.
"Just drop it, okay?" He let out a long sigh. "I'm killing myself every day for this company. Can't you be a little more understanding?"
This was the man I had loved for five years. In the final countdown of my life, he delivered the most fatal blow with a pathetic lie and the stench of another woman's perfume.
I sat on the sofa opposite him, forcing down the overwhelming despair. I just wanted to talk to him properly.
To tell him I had less than two months left to live.
"Alec, we need to talk..."
But just as the words left my mouth, he let out a loud, exaggerated yawn.
"I'm too tired today. I'm going to take a shower. Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow."
Alexander casually tossed his suit jacket over the armrest and walked into the bathroom. The door clicked shut, and soon, the sound of running water echoed through the room.
Exhausted, I leaned back against the cushions. My stomach began to throb with that dull, familiar pain.
Closing my eyes, I thought back to the days we fought side by side.
Five years ago, my parents died in a car crash, leaving our family business on the brink of bankruptcy. I was fresh out of college, living on the edge of a breakdown every single day.
Alexander, back then, was nothing but a broke kid with a crappy PowerPoint presentation, getting laughed out of every investor's office.
I was the one who gritted my teeth and gambled the last of my parents' money to help him. We used to squeeze into a rundown, unheated apartment, sharing a single discounted pizza. With red eyes, he swore he would never let me suffer again.
Just then, a faint buzzing came from his jacket draped over the armrest.
I walked over, followed the sound, and pulled his phone from the pocket. On the brightly lit screen, a new notification blatantly stared back at me:
[Did you make it home? Goodnight. Thanks for keeping me company today.]
My heart plummeted. I swiped to see who sent it, only to realize he had secretly changed his lock screen passcode.
Frustrated, I shoved the phone back into his pocket. As I did, a crumpled piece of paper slipped out and fluttered to the floor.
I froze. I picked it up and smoothed it out.
It was a crumpled receipt. Printed clearly across the top: [Four Seasons Hotel. Romance Suite. Check-in: 3:00 PM.]
3:00 PM?
That was the exact moment I was sitting in the hospital, listening to the doctor tell me I wouldn't live past two months.
When I called him and he so hurriedly hung up on me, he was busy "working" in a hotel bed with another woman.
And yet, just moments ago, I was actually pathetic enough to hope he would comfort me.
Victoria, you are an absolute joke.
I clenched the receipt tightly in my fist, my fingernails digging ruthlessly into my palms.
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