The affection was just an act. I'm not going to continue thisChapter 1
I used to believe Adrian Farley was the universe's apology to me. A fair trade: a defective heart in exchange for a perfect lover.
Because of my congenital heart disease, Adrian abandoned his lifelong dream of finance. He chose medicine instead, clawing his way up to become the renowned Dr. Farley—a name spoken with reverence in every hospital corridor.
In my second year of graduate school, a speech he gave became legend on the university forums. He'd stood before hundreds of people and declared he'd chosen medicine for one reason only: to save his girlfriend.
Everyone said Adrian Farley was living proof that true love still existed.
I believed it too.
Until the tenth time I visited his hospital.
"Ms. Mason, Dr. Farley is currently discussing your medical records with Dr. Preston." The nurse's eyes darted away, unable to hold my gaze.
Ten no-shows. And every single time, Zoe Preston was the reason.
"Do you need me to page Dr. Farley for you?"
"No. Thank you."
The hysteria that usually clawed at my chest in these moments—the begging, the tears—stayed silent. I pulled the divorce agreement from my bag and placed it in the nurse's trembling hands.
"Adrian wins."
1.
The antiseptic chill of the hospital fell away as I stepped outside. I returned to the villa.
*Our* home. *Our* sanctuary.
I packed my belongings in silence. Just as I opened the door to leave, I collided with a solid chest.
Adrian.
"Fiona. What is the meaning of this?"
His voice was low. Dangerous. Between his fingers, he held the divorce papers I had signed only an hour ago.
"It means exactly what it says." I met his gaze without flinching. "Or has the brilliant Dr. Farley forgotten how to read?"
Confusion flickered across his face—genuine, uncomprehending. As if he couldn't fathom why I would ever want to leave. In his mind, we were perfect. Childhood sweethearts who'd walked down the aisle. A man who'd sacrificed his career for his dying wife. When I lay in the ICU with machines breathing for me, he'd knelt on the cold hospital tiles and prayed to a God neither of us believed in.
We were materialists. But in that moment, Adrian's desperation had felt a hundred times more sacred than our wedding vows.
His gaze dropped to the suitcase at my side. The confusion hardened into ice.