The rumor mill in our circle had a saying: *Kya Medina finds out about Diego’s affairs before he’s even finished buttoning his shirt.*

When other women’s husbands stepped out, I was held up as the "heroine" for how I handled the fallout. But behind my back, they whispered that I was nothing more than a shrew, questioning how a high-society wife could stoop to such undignified scenes.

Then, the elite scene was left stunned when the paparazzi shoved photos of Diego in bed with someone else right in my face. I didn't scream. I didn't cause a scene. I just laughed it off.

Even Diego paused, mid-zip, staring at me with genuine confusion.

I just shrugged. "I'm tired."

Diego chuckled, smugly lighting a cigarette. "Finally had enough, Kya?"

I let my eyes drift to the explicit photos scattered on the table. "Yeah," I replied calmly. "I've had enough."

Because the woman he’d fallen for this time was my bone marrow donor.

Diego froze, his smile vanishing instantly. "What kind of game are you playing?"

I touched the leukemia diagnosis tucked inside my bag and offered a self-deprecating laugh. "You're overthinking it."

I used to be a lunatic who dominated the tabloids. I’d corner mistresses and make their lives hell in front of the cameras. I’d charge into hotel suites, phone in hand, catching them red-handed just to secure the evidence. I was so naive. I thought if I kept playing the "crazy wife," Diego would eventually get tired of the drama and come back to me.

Turns out, I just waited until the day I no longer had the strength to fight.

The moment I got that diagnosis, I didn't tell a soul. The papers sat right there on the bedroom table, but Diego never noticed a thing.

My sudden apathy made him lose his cool. Just as he was about to blow up at me, the doorbell rang. Aliza Cook appeared on the doorstep, and the man beside me visibly panicked.

Keeping his affairs out of our home was the last shred of dignity he allowed me. Three years ago, when his first scandal broke, I had a public breakdown in front of the press and confronted the woman.

His only response had been cold: "I assumed you knew what you were getting into before marrying me. Diego Cox's wife shouldn't be acting like such a disgrace."

I had stood frozen in front of the cameras, unable to even cry. My heart, which I’d given so freely, was worth nothing to him. After that, he’d been more discreet.

Aliza Cook was clearly the first woman to truly break through his defenses.

Dressed in a sharp, professional suit, she sighed. "Mrs. Cox, the company's PR department is working overtime because of your tabloid headlines. I hope you can show some consideration for Mr. Cox. Could you at least avoid spending his money in ways that hurt the company's image? Don't you agree?"

My fingertips trembled.

Aliza was a junior analyst on a corporate sponsorship program. She was also the bone marrow donor I’d scoured the city to find—the only one who matched my rare blood type. I wasn’t fighting back because I knew the truth: she wouldn’t be stupid enough to save me. Why would she save the only obstacle standing in the way of her path into high society?

For the first time ever, I gave a cool, detached nod. "Fine."

Diego shot me a startled look, then cleared his throat. "Since Aliza has already put it that way, go to the office tomorrow and apologize to the board."

He knew better than anyone that making me apologize in public was like trying to fly to the moon, yet he still chose to give Aliza that validation.

I opened my mouth, a bitter expression on my face. Aliza noticed my reaction and, looking visibly uncomfortable, gave a stiff nod and turned to walk away.

"Aliza!" Diego started to follow her, then stopped in his tracks. "You have to be there tomorrow. And one more thing: I'm moving Aliza to my side to manage the project finances. Maybe if you don't have the money, you'll finally quiet down."

I bit my lip, forcing a look of indifference. "If you say so. Fine."

Diego frowned, but he turned and chased after her without a second glance. He didn't even notice that my nose had started to bleed.

I looked at the list of prohibitively expensive medications the doctor had sent, and one by one, I canceled them all.

Then, I called my lawyer.

"Help me prepare the divorce papers."