Chapter 13

"I won't sign this!" Susan Thompson clutched the pen so tightly her knuckles turned white. "Andrew, unless you give me a million dollars, I refuse to sign!"

She had to hold onto her identity as Mrs. Lucas. It was the last chance she could secure for Daniel.

Andrew Lucas smirked and effortlessly pried her fingers open. He guided her hand, forcing her to write her name stroke by stroke on the divorce papers.

When he pressed her thumb onto the inkpad and stamped it onto the document, Susan felt as if her heart had been imprinted alongside it.

Andrew tucked both copies into a folder. Susan collapsed onto the edge of the bed, her body limp as if all her bones had been removed.

She had loved this man for half her life. Even after enduring his cruelty, that love had never wavered.

She once imagined her tombstone would read "Beloved Wife of Andrew Lucas." Now, they were nothing to each other.

No reunion in life, no remembrance in death.

Tears blurred her vision as she lifted her face, her voice trembling. "Andrew, please lend me a million dollars... I know you hate me, I know you wish I were dead..."

"I have stomach cancer. Late stage. Your wish will come true soon... Just please, save Daniel..."

"Cancer?" Andrew's brow furrowed. The word "dead" stabbed into his heart like a knife.

He studied the woman before him—her pallid face, disheveled clothes, her body worn to a shadow.

But the next second, he scoffed. "Nice act. Susan, what kind of terminal illness could possibly afflict someone like you?"

"Death would suit you." His lips curled into a cold smile, his eyes glacial. "That bastard can keep you company on your way to hell."

The door slammed shut behind him. Susan curled up on the floor, shaking from the pain.

So this was what her lifelong devotion had earned her—a single phrase: "Death would suit you."

This agony cut deeper than any physical wound.

Her phone rang abruptly. An unknown number.

The caller claimed to be a director, offering her the lead role in a music video for a hundred thousand dollars.

Susan knew how dark the entertainment industry could be. But the director assured her other crew members would be present.

She swallowed a painkiller, changed into a high-necked long-sleeved dress to hide her bruises, and rushed to the hotel.

The moment she reached the door, a greasy hand yanked her inside.