apter 2
Kimberly’s POV
Katie scoffed at hearing how much Cedric supposedly loved me, rolling her eyes with theatrical disdain.
She brought me a cup of tea, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Strange that Cedric keeps you waiting out here, Kimberley. That’s not like him
at all.”
“Whenever I drop by,” she continued, leaning in conspiratorially, “no matter what crisis he’s handling, he drops everything for me. His exact words were that I’m his ‘absolute priority.“”
“I just assumed a man like that would treat all his women with the same…
consideration.”
Her smile–that calculated, dimpled smile–was an unsettling echo of my own from years past.
I considered how differently Cedric treated Katie compared to his usual flings. He’d paraded countless women through our lives, using them as weapons in his arsenal against me, bringing a new face home each night just to watch for a crack in my composure.
Cedric typically discarded these women quickly–a day here, a week there–before the novelty wore off.
But Katie was different. He’d set her up in her own place, taken her to restaurants, bought her designer clothes, escorted her to premieres.
They played at being an ordinary couple in love. Cedric gave her not just his credit card, but pieces of himself I hadn’t seen in years.
I looked at Katie and offered a gentle smile. “If you’re really so special to him, why is he keeping you as his side piece?”
“Maybe it’s time you pushed for something more legitimate. Tell him to divorce me and make an honest woman of you.”
Katie’s face hardened instantly. Humiliated and furious, she leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper: “The side piece is the one he doesn’t want to be seen with. That’s you, not me. You’re just the paperwork he hasn’t filed yet.”
“So what if you met him first? Look in the mirror, Kimberley. You’re damaged goods. What exactly do you think you’re bringing to the table that could compete with me?”
Her colleague rushed over, grabbing her elbow with a panicked “Katie, that’s enough!” and pulled her away, throwing apologetic glances in my
direction.
Honestly, I couldn’t summon the energy to care.
I’d made a promise to myself months ago: Cedric would no longer have the power to make me angry or sad.
And I certainly wouldn’t fight with other women over a man who’d betrayed me a hundred times over.
He simply wasn’t worth it.
As I sat in that sterile waiting room, the physical pain of my illness seemed almost secondary to the weight of wasted years. Facing death had given me strange clarity. I’d spent so long being the perfect, uncomplaining wife while my body quietly betrayed me. Now, watching this young woman who thought she’d won some grand prize, I felt only a distant, almost maternal pity.
Six months to live, and somehow I felt lighter than I had in years.
Chapter 3
