He Let Her Go, Then Lost His Mind

The master bedroom, Hillside Villa, Cresthaven.

In the tangle of sheets, he pressed a lingering kiss to the mole on her chest.

A moment later, William Harrison rolled off her and sat up.

"Let's get a divorce." His voice was flat.

Daniela Sutton was still catching her breath.

She turned to face him, her gaze searching his face in confusion.

They had been married for a year. The words didn't register.

"She has stomach cancer. Only six months left."

William lit a cigarette, the smoke curling upward and blurring his features.

"Her only wish before she dies is to be my wife."

Daniela said nothing. A dead silence fell over the spacious master bedroom.

The lamp on the nightstand cast a faint glow, stretching their shadows long against the wall. They lay so close, yet their silhouettes looked miles apart.

When she didn't immediately respond, a frown flickered across his face.

"We're just humoring her. We can remarry in six months. Daniela, she only has six months."

His tone remained even, as if he were merely delivering a notice.

Daniela stared blankly at his profile.

He spoke as if she had no choice but to agree to every demand he made, as if his every word was a command she was bound to obey.

Yes. This relationship—what they had—she'd been the one chasing him. Desperately. Pathetically.

It had begun as simple teenage admiration.

And it had followed her into adulthood, a shadow always trailing behind him.

There was that storm years ago, when he had stepped in front of her, gripping a piece of rotting wood to ward off her stepfather. "If you ever lay a hand on Daniela again, I'll end you!"

She'd been beaten half to death. Through a blur of torrential rain and her own blood, all she could see were his hands—knuckles white around the wood—and his eyes, cold and unyielding in the storm.

He had saved her life.

Helplessly, irrevocably, she had fallen for him.

Whatever he asked of her, she did. She poured everything she had into it, more than anyone else could.

And afterward, he would rest a hand on her head, his touch fleeting, and murmur, "Good girl, Daniela."

Even though his words and kisses were always fleeting, and their entire relationship had been lukewarm at best, she had convinced herself it was simply his nature.

So even when the world called her a pathetic doormat, she had accepted the label, savoring the bitterness.

For seven years, her entire youth, she had followed him.

A year ago, William's grandfather had fallen gravely ill. To fulfill his wish, the family decided a marriage was needed.

He'd come to her, and simply took her to register their marriage.

She had thought all those years of devotion had finally paid off. But after the registration, he held her at arm's length. Worse, she could feel it—a growing weariness in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

"Daniela. Are you listening to me?"

Noticing her distraction, he scowled.

"Does it have to be this way?" she asked, her voice small.

He ignored the question. "She's pitiful, Daniela."

"What about me?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.

In the silence that followed, a flicker of impatience crossed his eyes.

He let three seconds pass before he spoke again.

"Daniela, she's dying. You might not know this, but she loves me. And because of our marriage, she never wanted to hurt you. We never crossed any lines. Even when I tried to give her things, she always refused. She's a kind person. Just let her have this. Daniela, don't make me see you as cruel."

His voice was impossibly cold, each word a shard of ice in her heart.

So that was kindness—getting involved with a married man and uttering a few hypocritical words.

And this was cruelty—a wife refusing to give up her own husband.

She looked at his face. It was exactly the same as it had been all those years ago.

The deepset eyes, the straight nose, the chiseled jaw, those firm lips.

When had he started to change?

Probably the day "she" appeared.

"Are you sure about this divorce?" she asked one last time.

He didn't answer. His mouth pressed into a thin, hard line.

Finally, his lips parted.

"Yes. You—"

"Fine."

Before he could go on, she agreed.

He froze for a second.

His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her.

"You're getting cunning, Daniela." A rare trace of anger crept into his tone. "You figured I needed your agreement, so now you're threatening me?"

Daniela said nothing, her gaze drifting back to the two shadows on the pale wall.

William stubbed out his cigarette, dressed with quick, jerky movements, and strode out of the room without a backward glance.

As if her feelings didn't matter in the slightest. As if the sheer humiliation of his request was nothing.

Because he knew she wouldn't leave him.

It had always been that way.

Slam!

William was gone.

Daniela was left alone in the bedroom.

She stared at the door he'd slammed behind him.

She sat by the bed for a long, long time.

Buzz.

A notification.

Someone had sent her a message.

She reached for her phone.

The contact saved as "That Girl" had sent her a message.

"He came to see me again."

Attached was a photo, his profile reflected in the glass of an entryway.

He was smiling warmly, his eyes soft with a tenderness she had never once seen directed at her.

Daniela's finger paused. Then, with a strange detachment, she scrolled up.

The previous message read, "He told me he has feelings for me."

Before that was, "Is it cold on rainy nights? I'm not cold, because he is by my side."

The one before that was a lash of pure venom. "The one who isn't loved is the real intruder. Daniela, you were just his desperate choice for a marriage of convenience. He admires my taste, shares my values. I'm the one he loves."

There were so many messages like these.

Each one was another drop of poison, irrefutable proof of his betrayal.

She never knew. In seven years, William had always been so distant with her. She never knew that with someone else... he could be so alive.

She wasn't really reading. She just mechanically scrolled up and up, until she finally reached the very first message. "You should know who I am. Did you like the flowers in your living room today? I sent them. He said they were beautiful."

A hollow laugh escaped her.

Of course, she knew who it was.

Valerie Campbell. A celebrated floral designer and influencer, famous on social media for her work in Cresthaven's most luxurious penthouses and villas.

Daniela had shown him these messages before, but he'd dismissed them. He insisted there was no real proof they came from Valerie.

He'd even suggested she might have made it up herself, just to frame Valerie.

After all, the chat rarely included photos. And when it did, they were always the kind anyone could have taken from a distance.

Except for today's.

Should she show him this?

Tossing her phone aside, Daniela reached into the bottom drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a folded document.

She opened it to reveal the test results she had received just that day.

She was carrying William's child.

At the worst possible time.

A tear slipped down her cheek and splashed onto the paper, the moisture bleeding through the ink, blurring the words.

His heart no longer belonged to her. What good would proving her innocence do?

She wiped her tears away.

Daniela picked up the lighter William had used and touched the flame to the edge of the paper.

He didn't know it, but this divorce would be the very last request of his she would ever grant.

Seven years of her youth. Seven years of her life.

She had repaid his kindness. In full.

And she... she would stop loving him now.

The next day.

The parking lot outside the courthouse.

William sat in the Maybach, his left hand tapping lightly on the steering wheel.

"William, you and Daniela have been married a year now. It's high time you two started thinking about a family." An elderly woman's voice, full of affectionate nagging, came through the car's speakers.

William's expression remained patient, though a flicker of helplessness hid beneath it.

He answered with gentle deference, "We're still young, Grandma. There's no rush. The most important thing is for you to focus on your health, and Grandpa, he..."

"Of course I'm worried!" the old woman cut him off, her voice sharp with anxiety. "Your grandfather's doing much better, but we're both old. We could go at any time."

"Grandma..." William sighed, a silent, weary exhale.

The old woman's voice turned stern. "And don't you try to change the subject. I've heard the rumors, and you had better not be mistreating Daniela."

William fell silent for three seconds.

The silence stretched until the old woman pressed, "Do you hear me?"

He rubbed his brow, the very picture of a man forced to comply. "Fine," he said finally, "I understand."

After a few more pleasantries, William ended the call.

His fingers resumed their unconscious, steady tapping on the steering wheel as he looked towards the nearby courthouse.

His lips pressed into a thin line.

He tapped open the message list on his phone.

His finger glided over a contact saved as "My Love"—a florist's profile picture—scrolling past it, down to a chat with Daniela.

The last message was his, sent earlier that morning: a matteroffact note with the time and place to meet for their divorce procedure.

She hadn't shown up.

Frowning slightly, he sent her a new message. "Where are you?"

The next moment, a knock on the car window revealed Daniela's slightly pale face looking in at him.

Daniela opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

She glanced at him.

He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday—an outfit she had picked out for him.

From his cologne and ties to his tailored shirts and suits, she had managed every detail of his life for years.

"You're late," he said.

Daniela averted her gaze.

"I'm on time," she replied.

He noticed she wasn't early. She used to wait for ages just to be early for him.

His tapping fingers paused for a split second, and he looked at her with a slight frown.

She was paler than usual. She probably hadn't slept last night after he brought up the divorce.

But that wasn't important.

"My grandmother just called." William looked away. "We won't tell the elders about the divorce. They're too old—it would be too much for them."

Daniela didn't agree right away. She only asked, "What did she say?"

"She was pushing us to have a child." William's eyes narrowed, a flash of impatience crossing his face.

A long, heavy silence filled the car.

After what felt like an eternity, Daniela let out a soft, bitter scoff.

William's left hand curled into a fist. He stared out the car window and said nothing.

He had, of course, wondered what their child might look like.

During their most intimate moments, he had even traced his fingers over her flat stomach, murmuring against her ear, "Daniela, when are you going to give me a child?"

But...

she hadn't gotten pregnant.

They'd remarry in six months. It wouldn't be too late by then.

Valerie only had six months left.

Outside the car, people came and went. After a few more seconds, Daniela spoke.

"Last chance, William. Are you sure you want this divorce?"

His head snapped towards her, fury flashing in his eyes. "Getting cold feet?" He was genuinely angry.

Valerie was at home, waiting for him.

Having received his answer, Daniela said nothing more. She just pulled out a document and handed it to him.

William took it, frowning deeply. It was a property settlement agreement.

"If we're getting a divorce, let's be clear about the assets," she said, her voice utterly cold and businesslike. "I'm only taking my fair share of what belongs to the Harrison family. During the waiting period, any income earned by either party belongs to that individual."

As she spoke, Daniela pulled out a pen and set it on top of the papers.

"Sign it if you have no objections."

The more William read, the deeper his frown became.

The contract was clear and concise. She truly wasn't taking any more than her due. Her signature, "Daniela," was already on the line.

He didn't get it.

What was the point of this contract for a fake divorce?

Valerie only had six months left.

He would see her through her final days, and then everything would go back to normal, with him and Daniela together again.

In his mind, Daniela couldn't live without him.

She had no selfesteem.

He had once, out of sheer boredom, deliberately pushed her to do things that went against her nature.

She never refused.

She would even present the results to him with both hands, her face alight with a beaming smile, and say, "Look, William, I did it! Isn't it great?"

She had been an exceptionally compliant partner, a fact he'd confirmed countless times over seven years.

If it weren't for Valerie, his marriage would have likely drifted on without a ripple for the rest of his life.

But...

An image of Valerie's face flashed through his mind—tragically beautiful and stubbornly defiant as she coughed up blood. The memory hit him so hard he could barely breathe.

William glanced at the window.

Reflected in the glass was Daniela's face, completely devoid of emotion.

Was this some kind of threat?

She hated Valerie and had even used the forged chat records to frame her.

A humorless, silent laugh escaped him.

He snatched up the pen.

William signed his name with a flourish.

No one could threaten him.

Two copies.

Daniela took hers.

Then, they got out of the car.

Inside, they took a number, submitted the paperwork, and filled out the divorce petitions.

They each left with a filed copy. The final decree would arrive after the state's mandatory waiting period and a judge's review.

When the process was over, they walked out of the courthouse together.

The sun was now high in the sky, its rays warming Daniela's skin.

William watched the crowd streaming past.

It was easy to tell the newlyweds from the divorcees.

A couple walked out handinhand, the woman's face radiant with happiness.

For a hazy moment, William remembered that a year ago, when they'd come to register their marriage, Daniela had worn that exact same smile.

William swept his gaze over Daniela.

Her face was still a blank mask.

"During this period," he said, his tone assuming her compliance, "I'll still put money in your account. And don't tell my grandparents about this."

He didn't wait for an answer. He simply turned and walked away.

She watched his car turn the corner and disappear from sight.

Then, the car she'd called arrived.

The two vehicles drove off in opposite directions.

One headed for Valerie Floral Studio.

The other drove toward Cresthaven Grand Medical Center.

When William pushed open the door to the florist studio, Valerie looked up and greeted him with a bright, welcoming smile.

He pulled the divorce filing from his pocket. "It's done," he said. "She didn't cause any trouble."

At the same time, Daniela, clutching her appointment slip, walked into the OBGYN department.

She sat down across from a doctor.

The doctor pulled the privacy curtain shut with a soft swish.

"Dani, are you sure about this?" asked Dr. Willa Brown, her best friend, her voice laced with worry. "You wanted this so badly. You came to me for months to get your body ready..."

Daniela placed her own copy of the divorce filing on the edge of the desk.

"Yeah." Her voice was eerily calm. "Just do it. I don't want it anymore."

Willa stared at the divorce filing receipt, a flicker of disbelief on her face.

They had been best friends for over a decade, and for most of that time, Willa had watched Daniela pour everything into her obsession with William. It had been almost frightening to witness.

Back then, Daniela truly would have given her life for him.

When they'd finally married a year ago, Willa had felt a mix of resignation and genuine happiness. At least her best friend had finally gotten the man she'd always dreamed of.

But now...

What had happened?

"I don't love him anymore," Daniela said before Willa could even ask.

She met Willa's gaze, the corner of her mouth lifting into a small, almost convincing smile.

In that smile, Willa caught a glimpse of the old Daniela—the one from before the Sutton family fell apart, before her father died, before life had worn her down. It was a shadow of the elegant, untouched Daniela she once was.

The sight brought Willa a wave of relief.

"William doesn't know I'm pregnant," Daniela continued. "There's a thirtyday coolingoff period for the divorce. I don't want any complications, so it's better if he doesn't know."

The thirtyday period meant either of them could withdraw the petition, effectively canceling the divorce.

Willa understood then. Daniela was serious about this. She was really leaving him.

After getting the full story, Willa ordered the necessary tests before turning back to her friend. "Daniela, you'll have to wait a few days for the procedure."

"Is something wrong?" Daniela asked, a little puzzled.

Willa explained, "It's your blood type. You're Rhnegative, which is rare. I need to have a reserve supply on hand just in case. I've already contacted the blood bank, and the supply should arrive in about a week."

Daniela paused, a shadow of sadness crossing her face.

She'd inherited her blood type from her father.

A fresh wave of longing for him washed over her.

If only he were still here...

She managed a soft, "Okay." Swallowing down the lump in her throat, Daniela nodded, her eyes rimmed with red despite the faint smile on her lips.

"One more thing," Willa added. "You're showing some signs of a threatened miscarriage. Be extra careful over the next few days."

Willa's expression softened, her gaze full of concern.

They had grown up together, and Willa understood the depth of Daniela's sadness.

"Wait for me," she said, taking Daniela's hand. "My shift ends soon. We can go home together."

Daniela nodded and waited for Willa in the corridor outside.

She looked down at her stomach.

Signs of a threatened miscarriage.

Did this baby somehow sense her decision? Was it trying to leave on its own?

Daniela pressed her lips together, picked up the forms, and went to complete the remaining tests.

Buzz.

Her phone vibrated—a bank balance alert.

She'd opened this new account specifically for the divorce's coolingoff period, a clean break from William's finances.

From now on, all her income would go here.

A moment later, another message followed.

"Your commission just came through. Finance sent it over. Can you confirm you got it?"

Before her marriage, Daniela had made a living as a musician, working behind the scenes.

She'd loved music since she was a child. Back when her father was alive and she was still a wealthy girl, she'd had every resource to nurture that talent.

The turmoil that followed—the instability and loss—had given her a much deeper perspective on life.

Her father had only ever wanted to nurture her hobby. He could never have imagined it would one day become the only thing she had to live on.

After a moment, Daniela typed back, "Got it. Thanks."

The reply was instant. "You earned it. Seriously, you've written some massive hits over the years. Ever think about making a comeback? There's a new show that would be perfect for you. I just sent the details to your email. Check it out. I'm holding a contestant slot for you, just in case."

Daniela opened her email and scanned the attachment. It was a music competition show. The format was straightforward, similar to other singing contests, but with a heavy emphasis on original compositions.

Daniela replied, "Let me think about it."

After sending the reply, she put her phone down. A dull ache pulsed in her lower abdomen.

And just like that, she was thinking of her father again.

That was the second time she had missed him today.

...

Meanwhile, the internet was buzzing. Trending topics, all marked with a fiery "Hot" icon, were climbing the charts—

#ValerieCampbellStomachCancer

#FamousFloristValerieCampbellLifeCountdown

#LastSixMonthsofValerieCampbell

The top post included a video.

"Our sources have confirmed that renowned florist Valerie Campbell has been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer and has only six months to live. But in a show of incredible strength, she refuses to be defeated. Campbell plans to share her final months with her followers online—a realtime diary of her final journey."

Valerie faced the camera, her smile brave and tragic. "In these last six months, I want to share my journey with all of you. I have no other goal. I just hope to offer some comfort to others who are fighting this same battle. I hope we can all find a way to heal."

The reporter reappeared on screen. "Sources have long rumored a close relationship between Ms. Campbell and Harrison Group CEO William. But Mr. Harrison is a married man. Could this tragedy spark a reallife drama of love and loss?"

As if just noticing the reporter, Valerie walked over with a gentle smile, politely cutting in to take control of the narrative.

She looked straight into the camera.

"I admit I've always had feelings for William—there's no point denying it. He's an outstanding man. I'm sure I'm not the only woman who admires him. But I want to make one thing clear: I would never interfere in someone else's marriage. That's not me. Thank you."

With that, Valerie stepped out of the camera's view, leaving the reporter to wrap up.

She navigated through the crowd and slipped into her car. The moment the door closed, the pained smile vanished, replaced by a triumphant one.

The private caregiver, hired from a discreet Valorian agency, handed her a cup of warm water, her expression hesitant.

"Spit it out," Valerie said coolly. "The driver is one of ours."

The caregiver lowered her voice. "Ms. Campbell, your real diagnosis is a gastric ulcer. It was risky enough for my facility to fabricate a stomach cancer diagnosis for you. Why are you going public with it like this?"

Valerie's smile was pure disdain, and it clearly confused the caregiver.

"Your facility is a medical institution, correct?" she began.

The caregiver nodded.

"And my medical records are managed by your hospital, correct?"

The caregiver nodded again.

"And do those records state that I have advanced stomach cancer with six months to live?" she pressed.

The caregiver hesitated, but finally nodded.

Valerie's smile widened. "Then that's the truth. It's a truth that will hold up under any scrutiny."

"But you don't actually have cancer," the caregiver whispered, horrified.

"I see two possible outcomes," Valerie said, her eyes glinting with a warning.

"Option one: I undergo 'treatment' at your facility, and by some miracle of love and modern medicine, I recover. Option two: It's revealed that your hospital made a catastrophic diagnostic error. A massive malpractice suit for treating a healthy woman for a terminal illness."

Her expression hardened. "Which of those sounds better to you?"

The caregiver's face went pale. "I... I'm sorry, Ms. Campbell," she stammered. "I spoke out of turn. You've clearly thought this through."

Valerie gave a cold laugh.

Trying to break the tense silence, the caregiver asked, "Where to now, Ms. Campbell?"

Valerie glanced at her phone casually. "Cresthaven Grand Medical Center."

The caregiver grew anxious. "But..."

"I'm just using the diagnosis to get a prescription for painkillers," Valerie said dismissively. "Relax."

Valerie then sent a text to William, asking him to pick her up from the hospital.

His reply was almost instant. "Sure."

Meanwhile, in a hospital restroom, a heavy, dull ache seized Daniela's lower abdomen. She looked down at the tissue in her hand. It was streaked with blood.

A threatened miscarriage.