On the day Annabelle Parker was diagnosed with stomach cancer, Henry was accompanying Nora as they were taking their son for a check-up.

In the hospital corridor, Ryan held the biopsy report with a serious expression and said, "Annabelle, the test results are out. It's a malignant tumor, stage 3A. If the surgery is successful, the five-year survival rate is between 15% to 30%."

Annabelle's delicate fingers clenched the strap of her bag, her pale face filled with seriousness. "Ryan, how long can I live if I don't have the surgery?"

"Half a year to a year, it varies from person to person. In your case, it's better to undergo two rounds of chemotherapy before the surgery to prevent infiltration, spreading, and metastasis."

Annabelle bit her lip and said with difficulty, "Thank you."

"Why are you thanking me? I'll arrange your admission right away."

"No need, I don't plan to undergo treatment. I can't endure it."

Ryan wanted to say more, but Annabelle respectfully bowed to him and said, "Ryan, please keep this a secret for me. I don't want my family to worry."

The Parker family was bankrupt, and just covering her father's high medical expenses was already a huge burden for Annabelle. Informing her family about her illness would only add to their troubles.

Ryan sighed helplessly. "You can be rest assured; I'll keep it confidential. I heard you got married. Your husband..."

"Ryan, please take care of my father. I have to leave now."

Annabelle seemed reluctant to discuss this further and left before he could respond.

Ryan shook his head, thinking back to their university days when Annabelle had married and dropped out. It was like a fallen star, and now, all that remained was devastation.

For the past two years, Annabelle had been the only one tirelessly taking care of her father's treatment. Even when she fell ill herself, no one had seen her husband.

Reflecting on the past, Annabelle remembered the year they got married. Henry had genuinely been good to her, but everything changed when Nora returned to the United States with a pregnant belly. She and Nora fell into the water at the same time.

Struggling in the water, Annabelle saw him desperately swimming toward Nora. Both she and Nora went into premature labor, but Annabelle was rescued later, and by the time she reached the hospital, the baby was stillborn.

On the seventh day after their child's passing, Henry proposed a divorce, but she had not agreed.

Now, learning of her own illness, Annabelle could no longer hold on.

With trembling hands, she dialed his number. After three rings, his cold, magnetic voice came through, "I won't see you unless it's about the divorce."

Annabelle's nose tingled, her eyes grew hot, but she swallowed the words about her illness that she had prepared. Nora's voice suddenly interrupted the call, "Henry, the baby needs a check-up."

The tears that Annabelle had been holding back for so long fell in that moment. Her child was gone, her family was ruined, and he had started a new life with someone else. It was time for all of this to end.

Without the usual humility, Annabelle's voice came through shakily, "Henry, let's get a divorce."

The man on the other end of the phone clearly hesitated for a moment and then sneered, "Annabelle, what kind of game are you playing now?"

Annabelle closed her eyes and said slowly, one word at a time, "Henry, I'm waiting for you at home."

After hanging up the phone, Annabelle had used up all her strength. Her body slid down the wall, and the rain outside the corridor flew in, drenching her. She clutched the phone, biting her sleeve, silently crying.

Henry stared at the abruptly ended call, lost in thought. They had been in a cold war for a year, and she had always refused to divorce. Why the sudden change?

Her voice had a hint of tears, and as he looked out at the pouring rain, Henry left the diagnosis room.

"Henry, where are you going?" Nora chased after him, holding the child. But all she saw was Henry's retreating figure, and his once gentle face had turned dark and terrifying.

That woman, she just can't let go.

Henry hadn't set foot in their marital home for a long time. He had thought that Annabelle had prepared a table full of dishes he liked, but the villa was empty and lifeless when he arrived.

Winter nights came too early; it was already dark outside at just past six.

Henry glanced at the withered flowers on the dining table.

Annabelle's personality would never allow flowers to wither like this without disposing of them. There was only one possibility; she had been at the hospital all these days.

Annabelle pushed open the door and saw the tall man in a suit standing by the dining table. His handsome face was as cold as ice, and when he looked at her, his pitch-black pupils were filled with intense hatred.

Having rushed from the car through the pouring rain, Annabelle was soaking wet. The moment she felt his icy gaze on her, her back turned cold.

"Where were you?" Henry's cold voice rang out.

Even her once bright eyes were now devoid of light, and she replied lightly, "Do you still care about my life and death, Mr. Kingsford?"

Henry sneered, "I'm afraid there won't be anyone to sign for you if you die."

That sentence felt like a thorn stabbing deeply into her already wounded heart. Annabelle walked inside with her drenched body, without crying, without making a scene. Her emotions were strangely calm as she took out the agreement from her file folder.

"Don't worry; I've already signed the papers."

The stark black-and-white agreement was placed on the dining table, and Henry had never felt divorce to be such an eyesore.

She had only one request, a ten million dollars compensation.

"I knew you wouldn't divorce willingly. It's all about the money."

His mocking expression filled her vision, and if it had been before, she might have offered a few retorts. But today, she was just too tired.

So Annabelle stood quietly, looking at him, and said softly, "Originally, I could have taken away half of Mr. Kingsford's fortune, but I only asked for ten million. Ultimately, I'm still too kind."

Henry took a step forward, his tall figure casting a shadow over Annabelle. He pinched her chin with his long, slender fingers, and his voice was cold and deep. "What did you just call me?"

"If Mr. Kingsford doesn't like that title, I don't mind call you ex-husband. You can leave after signing the papers."

The woman's defiant face sparked Henry's displeasure. "This is my house. What right do you have to ask me to leave?"

Annabelle's lips curled in a cold smile. "You're right, Mr. Kingsford. Don't worry. Once I get the divorce certificate, I'll move out of here."

With that, she shook off Henry's hand, and her dark eyes stared directly at him. Her red lips parted, and she said coldly, "Mr. Kingsford, bring the divorce agreement and your household registration to the Civil Affairs Bureau at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. We'll meet there."