A sudden $45 million hit my bank account, courtesy of Diego Cox. In exchange, I sent him a set of divorce papers.

His attorney was a regular visitor, pleading for him. Diego wouldn't sign. When Armando Sullivan found out, he took the papers to Diego’s office himself. That ended in a full-blown brawl.

The city was obsessed. The gossip mill was working overtime:

"Diego Cox was supposed to be Mr. Cool. Now he’s chasing his ex-wife like a total simp."

"It’s honestly pathetic. He humiliated her in public for years, and now he’s acting like a clingy mess? Just let her go."

"Seriously, give the girl a break."

When Armando returned, his face was a map of bruises and cuts.

"He won't sign," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I’m taking it to court. We’ll force the issue."

The divorce remained a stalemate. That was until Diego showed up again, dragging Aliza Cook with him. This time, Aliza’s attitude had done a complete one-eighty.

"Kya, I’ve changed my mind," she said, her voice tight. "I’ll donate the marrow. You can have as much as you need."

I sat on my hospital bed, stunned.

Diego kept his tone cold and detached. "I told her that if she helps you, her family will be taken care of. It only seems fair."

I was silent for a beat, then I shook my head.

"I don't want it," I said. "A donation born from threats isn't fair to anyone."

In truth, I never hated Aliza. She had pulled out of the donation once she realized I was Diego’s wife—that was her choice, and her right. I wanted to live, but not at the cost of my dignity.

Aliza began to tremble. She dropped to her knees, clutching the edge of my bed, sobbing. "Please, Kya. I’m begging you! If you just accept it, Diego will settle my father’s gambling debts and cover my mother’s medical bills. I’ll be set for life! I was greedy, I know—but I’m desperate..."

I hesitated, a wave of conflict washing over me. Even Armando, who had been quiet until now, urged me on.

"You don't have to feel guilty," he said, his jaw set. "I’ll hire the best surgeons. You’ll make a full recovery."

Diego gripped my arm. "He’s right, Kya. I just want you to survive."

I pulled away, the distance between us stark. After a long moment, I gave a faint nod.

The surgery was a success. My oncologist even stopped by to celebrate.

When the room finally cleared, I pulled out the divorce papers again. The smile vanished from Diego’s face. Whatever vows we once exchanged, they had long since dissolved into nothing.

This was the bridge I had to cross.

"Sign it," I said. "I’ll return the money. Consider what you’ve spent on me the final payment for our marriage—it’s more than enough."

Diego’s hands trembled as he stared at the document. "But... how will you survive without me? Do you really have to walk away?"

I looked toward Armando. "My former boss offered me a position at his firm. I can take care of myself."

I turned back to Diego. "As for us, this is the end."

Diego’s eyes grew red, filling with unshed tears. He wanted to fight it, to argue, but the words died in his throat. The old, burning obsession that once defined us had simply burned out.

Finally, he took the pen from Armando and signed.

He walked out, his steps hesitant. He kept glancing back, trying to memorize my face—the face of a woman he knew he would never see again.

The door clicked shut. Five years of a volatile, suffocating marriage, finally over.

I sat there, snacking on apple slices Armando had cut for me, watching the clear sky beyond the window. The winter sun warmed my skin. For the first time in years, the future felt like it was finally, truly mine.