I had loved him for three years. Hid my family's name. Dulled every sharp edge I had. Cooked his meals, kept his house, swallowed my pride. And all of it bought me one sentence: If you're sick, just die.
I sniffed, then looked at the diagnosis report one more time.
That was when I noticed it. The field labeled Patient Name read, unmistakably: Thaddeus Gilbert.
I went still. Then I pulled every document out of my bag.
The registration slip was mine. But the diagnosis report had been left over from Thaddeus's physical exam last week. The hospital ID number, the patient identification—all his.
His exam summary on the final page read: Mild gastritis. Monitor diet.
I started to laugh.
God was on my side.
I wiped my face, folded the report with care, and slipped it into the hidden compartment of my bag.
My phone buzzed again.
Thaddeus had sent a photo of the divorce agreement, with a note attached: "Come home tonight and sign. Don't make me force you."
I replied: "Okay."
You want me dead? Fine. I'll play out this little scene with you to the very end.
Only this time, the lead role is about to change.
Outside the hospital, the sunlight hit like a blade.
I flagged down a cab. "Take me to the biggest Hermès store downtown."
For three years, Thaddeus had kept a secondary credit card in my name to maintain his image as a doting husband. Two million dollars sitting in that account, and he'd never once let me touch it.
Today, I was going to swipe that card until it screamed.
The streets blurred past the window. I pulled a mirror from my bag and reapplied my lipstick.
The woman staring back at me had no warmth left in her eyes. Only ice.
Thaddeus Gilbert, your reckoning has arrived.
I had barely stepped through the mall entrance when my mother-in-law called.
The moment the call connected, the shrieking began.
"Pearl, you wretched woman! The laundry's still on the floor, and you want us to starve? I heard you're sick. Well, the Lord works in mysterious ways. Get back here and sign those papers already. Stop clinging to this family like a parasite."
I held the phone a few inches from my ear and kept my voice soft. "Mom, I'm on my way home. Let me cook you all something nice. After all, there won't be many chances left."
After I hung up, I went straight to the luxury boutiques.