Swapped Diagnosis My Dying Husband Kicked Me Out PennilessChapter 1
The diagnosis from the oncology department gave me three months to live.
I blinked back tears, my hands trembling as I dialed my husband's number.
My mother-in-law's voice cut through first, shrill and acid: "Don't answer it. That jinx is calling to beg for money again."
Then my husband, dripping with impatience: "If you're sick, just die already. Don't drag me and my son down with you."
A voice message followed. Sixty seconds. "Since you're about to drop dead anyway, hurry up and sign the divorce papers. The house is mine. You walk away with nothing. Don't make me say it twice."
After the call ended, there was nothing but the hollow drone of a dead line.
I looked down at the report in my hands again.
My eyes focused, then froze. Because in the space marked Patient Name, the name printed there wasn't mine.
It was his.
I wiped my eyes dry, folded the report neatly, and tucked it into my bag. Then I turned and walked toward the luxury boutiques.
……
The fluorescent lights in the hospital corridor were pale and lifeless. The stench of disinfectant burned my nostrils.
The paper in my hands made my whole body feel cold.
Late-stage pancreatic cancer. Three months.
I leaned against the wall, my fingers shaking as I tapped the contact pinned at the top of my phone: Husband.
The phone rang for a long time before anyone picked up.
First came the clatter of mahjong tiles, then Mrs. Gilbert Sr.'s piercing screech: "Don't answer it! She's calling to beg for money again!"
Thaddeus Gilbert's voice came through next, laced with irritation. "Pearl Cobb, I'm in the middle of a game. Whatever it is, make it quick."
My throat tightened. "I'm at the hospital. The doctor said I—"
"Then die already!" He cut me off. "Stop being a burden on this family. We don't have money to treat you."
The line went dead.
A message appeared on my phone almost instantly.
A sixty-second voice note. His tone was flat, bored, like he was discussing what to have for dinner: "You're dying anyway, so stop taking up space. When you sign the divorce papers, the house and the savings go to me. You leave with nothing. It's not that I'm heartless. You're just unlucky."
In the background, a woman's voice purred, playful and sweet: "Thaddeus, it's your turn to draw."
I made my decision.
The tears didn't fall.