Emery paused for a moment, noticing Jaiden's intense expression, and then backed out of the room.

Signatures, fingerprints, the official stamp—everything was finalized in just a few minutes. Who knew that ending a relationship could be so straightforward? Five years entwined together, undone in five minutes.

Now, even the divorce certificate looked celebratory in its bright red form. How ironic that a divorce could feel like something to rejoice over.

Jaiden gave me one final look. There was no hesitation, no deep emotion. He didn’t say a word before turning to leave. I watched as his figure grew smaller until it vanished, side by side with Emery.

Jaiden never realized how many times I had watched him walk away. Before we were married, he’d leave reluctantly, looking back at me every few steps. We would share a silly smile.

Then his grandfather pushed him into marrying me. Since then, he’d leave without ever looking back. It was always me watching his retreating back.

Jaiden, goodbye. Let this be the end.

A sharp pain stabbed in my chest, and I couldn’t stop the nosebleed. Thankfully, Jaiden didn’t turn around to see my disheveled state.

Emery asked to meet, and I agreed. She arranged the meeting in the high-end apartment Jaiden had bought for her—a prime piece of real estate in the heart of Manhattan, elegantly decorated, far nicer than where I lived. Jaiden certainly didn’t mind spending money on his mistress.

Emery sat confidently, lazily fiddling with her manicure. I crossed my legs, leaning back in a relaxed manner.

"I could file a lawsuit to reclaim any property Jaiden bought for his mistress with our marital assets," I said.

Emery's smug smile instantly vanished.

"Let's get to the point. I'm quite busy," I said, resting my head on my hand, waiting for whatever challenge this young woman might present.

"Ada, you've already divorced Jaiden. You’ve gotten your share. Let him go."

"Professionally, as the vice president, I still have the authority to fire a secretary."

"Personally, you, the mistress who drove away the wife, think that's something to boast about?" I replied coldly, looking at Emery with both pity and disdain.

"Jaiden loves me. You're just an aging woman, stop dreaming!" Emery yelled, feeling humiliated by my indifference.

I pressed the stop button on the recorder.

With evidence in hand, I played the recording. Moments ago, Emery had been flaunting her triumph; now she was silent, subdued.

"I've already discarded Jaiden like the trash he is. If you want him, take him. Just don’t bother me again."

Were it not for the fact that my life was nearing its end, with money holding little meaning beyond medical expenses, I would have taken the opportunity to teach Emery a lesson. In the end, I sent the recording to Jaiden—not out of spite, but to show him Emery’s true colors.

I despised Jaiden, but I still wished him well. Consider it a favor repaid to Donald. From now on, let our paths diverge. I hope he finds someone trustworthy.

I resigned from my position as vice president of Armstrong Industries and headed to a renowned hospital in Florida for treatment. Before being admitted, I often brooded over life’s unfairness, the cruelty of disease. But at the hospital, I met others worse off than me, with more severe illnesses, unable to afford treatment—the hallways teemed with tragic stories.

I engaged actively in my treatment regimen, hoping for a miracle. Initially, I stayed in a shared ward, bustling with activity. Watching the other patients' families visiting, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness.

In this world, there was no one left to care for me.

I spent the money to move into a private room in the hospital and hired a caregiver, Magdalena, at a high cost. Magdalena was diligent and attentive; once she learned about my condition, she started caring for me like I was her own daughter.

"Ada, you've been sneaking chocolate again!" Magdalena gently scolded, taking the half-eaten bar from my hand.

I put on an innocent pout, looking down. "The medicine is so bitter, I needed something sweet."

Tears gleamed in Magdalena's eyes as she got choked up. "But it's not good for you right now. I'll get you some candy instead."

Before I could stop her, she was already briskly walking out of the room. She returned shortly with a bag of milk caramels, unwrapped one, and offered it to my lips.

"Try this, it's sweet. I asked the nurse, and she said you could have a small amount."

The candy slowly melted in my mouth, its sweetness spreading not just across my taste buds but deep inside my heart. It felt wonderful knowing there was still someone in this world who cared about me.

Day after day, it was all about taking medicine and getting shots. Sadly, fate wasn't on my side; my condition worsened rapidly. More than once, I caught Magdalena discreetly consulting doctors and nurses, only to retreat to a corner to wipe away her tears.

I told Magdalena that besides the medical bills, I still had a good amount of money left. If the day came when I had to leave, I wanted her to handle my affairs simply—cremate me and bury me with my parents. The remaining money could be her retirement fund.

Magdalena immediately covered my mouth. "Nonsense! Don't say such things."

"You'll be fine and live for many more years."

I just smiled, not saying anything in response. But Magdalena was persistent, insisting that I say a little prayer to ward off bad luck, as if that could really make the heavens retract my words.

The days dragged on, and the illness tormented me relentlessly. Magdalena worked even harder, and I joked that she was only doing it so she could inherit my estate.

Blushing with frustration, Magdalena gave my ear a gentle tug. "I'm doing it so you'll get better quickly."

After saying that, her defiance faded, and her eyes welled up with tears. I raised my hands in surrender, admitting my fault.

The nurse quietly told me that Magdalena had found out how I tossed and turned in pain every night and had requested a cot to stay by my side. My eyes misted over as I rubbed them, my nose tingling with emotion.

"Why aren't you answering your phone?" Jaiden's voice demanded over the phone.

At the time, I was receiving an IV, the icy fluid seeping through the needle, making me shiver with discomfort.

"We're done, Jaiden. You're a stranger to me now."

"I don't talk to strangers, nor do I answer their calls. Is there a problem?"

I suppressed the urge to retch and hung up. Still not satisfied, I proceeded to block every possible contact with Jaiden.

The world went blissfully silent.

True to his spoiled nature, Jaiden called every friend and colleague of mine to reach me. In no time, my phone was flooded with calls and messages asking about my whereabouts, ringing incessantly all day long.

Magdalena looked at me with concern and asked what was going on.

I could only sigh helplessly, "Just a stubborn kid who refuses to grow up."

Admitting defeat, I called Jaiden back.

"Just tell me, what's your deal? All this chasing—isn't your little Emery upset?"

Jaiden's voice was surprisingly gentle. "Ada, come back to work."

"Though we're divorced, you're still the Vice President of Armstrong Co…"

I naively fantasized that maybe, just maybe, Jaiden missed me. Perhaps he wasn't used to my sudden absence or perhaps there was a tiny regret for the decisions made in the past. But in reality, he simply wanted me back to continue being his workhorse.