A harsh, brittle laugh escaped Callum as he loomed over Olivia. "Is that a threat, Olivia?"

Olivia opened her eyes, staring up in utter shock at the man who had been the center of her world for years.

His gaze was devoid of even the slightest flicker of warmth or affection.

The icy detachment in his eyes mirrored the freezing wind that had bitten into her skin during the desolate winter of her parents' passing.

"Callum," she reminded him, her voice trembling, "this divorce was your idea!"

A sharp, predatory smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

To him, the divorce was a mere administrative task, a brief inconvenience at the courthouse that could be reversed just as easily whenever he saw fit.

It was obvious, however, that he suspected her of harboring a far more calculated agenda.

"I see. You're looking for a payout. You're after half of my Jackson Group holdings, aren't you? I clearly didn't give you enough credit for your greed." He turned on his heel, slamming the door violently behind him.

The force of the impact sent a framed photo on the wall careening to the floor with a loud crash.

It was their wedding portrait; the glass had shattered directly over her smiling face, splintering the image of her happiness into jagged, unrecognizable fragments.

The broken frame served as a stark reminder of their marriage—a fragile structure she had spent years trying to sustain through sheer force of will.

Olivia drew her knees to her chest, biting her lip so hard she drew blood to keep from screaming. Tears soaked into the very sheets where, only moments ago, they had been lost in the heat of intimacy.

His flippant attitude toward ending and restarting their marriage was born from a singular, arrogant conviction. He was certain Olivia was incapable of ever walking away.

Eight years prior, Olivia's parents' lives had been cut short in an accident born of her own impulsiveness. Consumed by a crushing weight of guilt, she had sought an end to her pain in the depths of a frozen lake.

It was Callum who had pulled her from the water, becoming her solitary source of warmth in the middle of that bleak, unforgiving winter.

In her desperation, she had clung to him as if he were her only lifeline.

Since that day, she had been his shadow, devoting her entire existence to anticipating and fulfilling his every whim.

She had practically begged for his attention for years; their marriage was nothing more than a concession he had made to appease his family's demands for a settled life.

The sheer intensity of their nights together—the desperate embraces and the raw, unbridled passion he displayed—had deluded her into believing that he might actually harbor some genuine affection for her.

It was a bitter pill to swallow: the truth was the exact opposite.

Outside the confines of their bedroom, Callum remained an ice fortress. He had spent their entire marriage keeping her hidden, never once allowing her to accompany him to a public function.

Olivia's lips curled into a hollow, mocking smile as she flicked a lighter, watching the flame consume the medical report and the death sentence written upon it.

If this was to be her end, she refused to spend her remaining time as an object of anyone's sympathy.

She certainly wouldn't squander her final months pining for a man whose heart was permanently closed to her.

Resting beneath the ashes of the report lay a weathered, tattered medal.

The words "Oasis Research Institute" were still visible in the fading gold engraving.

This was her parents' legacy—the highest scientific honor the nation had to offer.

Olivia had been their true successor, achieving the rank of professor and becoming a rising star at the institute while still in her youth.

Yet, she had traded her brilliance for a wedding ring, walking away from her career to become Callum's wife.

She had even repeatedly rebuffed the director of the institute, choosing her husband over the chance to complete her parents' life's work.

Olivia's fingers closed slowly, firmly, around the cool metal of the award.

With only a year remaining, she vowed to reclaim her identity and pour every ounce of her strength into finishing the research her parents had started.

For the first time in her life, she was going to exist for no one but herself.

The crushing weight of her illness and the exhaustion of her decision finally took their toll, pulling her into a heavy, dreamless slumber.

Callum remained absent for the rest of the night.

The next day, a harsh chime from her phone shattered the morning quiet.

"I'm giving you thirty minutes to meet me at the courthouse," Callum stated, his voice a deep, resonant monotone that betrayed zero emotion.

His eagerness to be rid of her was palpable.

The agonizing ache in Olivia's chest had finally subsided into a cold numbness by morning. "Is the divorce agreement ready?"

"Olivia!" he snapped, his tone a frigid warning. "Stop testing me. Without my signature, none of your little games will amount to anything."

With that, he cut the line.

Olivia gazed up at the glittering chandelier and let out a quiet, hollow laugh.

She never could have predicted that her life with Callum would devolve into this kind of bitterness.

Yet, perhaps this was the clarity she needed.

She made a silent promise. When her time came, his name would not be the last thing on her lips.

She rose, freshened up, and began packing her essentials.

For the first time, she didn't scramble to obey his summons. The days of dropping everything for him—regardless of the storm or the distance—were officially over.

She took her time having a lawyer finalize the paperwork, finally pulling up to the courthouse in a taxi just as the business day was winding down.

Callum's vehicle was idling at the curb; it was obvious he had been sitting there for hours.

A dry smile touched her lips. Callum was a man who lived by his schedule, and she had spent years arriving early to every date just to accommodate him. Today, the roles were reversed.

The irony wasn't lost on her. The only reason he was willing to wait now was to ensure he could get rid of her as quickly as possible for Kaylee.

She approached the car and gave the glass a sharp tap.

As the glass slid down, it revealed Callum's sharp, austere features. He looked every bit the stoic executive, his fingers rhythmically turning pages in a file.

Upon seeing her, a flash of irritation crossed his brow. "What was the hold-up? Dragging this out is a waste of energy for both of us."

He snapped the folder shut and finally met her eyes.

When his eyes locked onto Olivia, his face clouded over, and the air around him seemed to grow heavy with silent tension.

She had traded her usual soft look for a sleek ponytail and a precision-tailored pinstripe suit. The warm, accommodating woman he remembered had vanished, replaced by someone sharp, distant, and entirely self-possessed.

He scowled, his voice devoid of emotion. "What's with the all-black ensemble today?"

Callum had always harbored a dislike for that specific color.

Olivia let out a dry, quiet laugh. "We're here to get a divorce. My wardrobe choices aren't your business anymore."

In the days when she was still desperate for his affection, she had willingly retreated into the role of a housewife, knowing he preferred his partner to stay out of the spotlight.

Because he favored soft, docile women, she had suppressed her own fire and molded herself into his version of a perfect wife.

But in the end, what had all that effort actually achieved?

He simply didn't love her. No amount of perfection could ever compete with the visceral connection he shared with Kaylee.

Stunned by her sharp comeback, Callum's gaze hardened as he gave her face a more thorough scan.

As the sun hit her face, he noticed a haunting, unnatural paleness beneath her skin—a sickly hue that her makeup couldn't quite mask.

Callum knit his brows together in confusion.

It dawned on him that he hadn't truly looked at her in months. Her frailty was so apparent now that he couldn't help but wonder if something was seriously wrong.

Callum brushed the concern aside without a second thought.

He convinced himself that Olivia was just exhausted and moody from a bad night's sleep.

In his mind, Olivia was the picture of health, while Kaylee was the one who actually needed his protection and medical care.

Callum looked down, his jaw tightening in the silence before he stepped out of the vehicle.

"It's time," he said shortly.

He figured Olivia's resentment was only temporary. Once they remarried in a year, he planned to settle the score and give her whatever she wanted to make things right.

They walked into the courthouse in single file. Using his influence, Callum had arranged for them to skip the lines and receive immediate attention.

The moment they were seated, Olivia pulled a prepared divorce agreement from her bag and passed it across to the official.

Callum's face clouded with irritation, his palm slamming down on the documents to stop them. "What do you think you're doing?"

Olivia turned her head, meeting his gaze directly.

He looked every bit the aristocrat, carrying himself with a polished, distant grace that always made him stand out.

Even now, his looks were a weapon. She couldn't stop the involuntary skip of her heart; he was still the most handsome man she had ever seen.

She had walked down the aisle with a heart full of hope, believing they were building a life together. Now, she realized it had all been a shimmering, heartless lie.

A ghost of a smile appeared on her face. "This is how it works, Callum. We sign the papers, and the marriage ends. I'm just following the legal steps."

She acted as if a sudden thought had struck her. "Oh, that's right. You haven't added your signature yet."

She nudged his hand off the paper, flipped to the final page, and held out a pen. "I'm not asking for a settlement. I'm leaving with exactly what I brought in."

The atmosphere turned suffocating as Callum's temper began to flare, his eyes burning with a dark intensity.

Nothing infuriated him more than losing his grip on a situation. He ignored the pen, his voice dropping to a frigid tone. "If this is a play for more money or assets, stop hiding behind fine print and just name your price."

Her eyes were hollow, reflecting the quiet desperation of someone who had been pushed past their breaking point.

The constant agony had finally burned itself out, leaving behind a flat, manageable numbness where her heart used to be.

After a lifetime of devotion and giving him every part of herself, she was staggered to realize he still viewed her as nothing more than a gold-digger chasing the Jackson family's fortune.

The irony was bitter.

She pulled her hand away, her face a mask of calm. "There's no rush. Please, read every word so there are no misunderstandings."

The division of assets remained unchanged—she was walking away with zero. She had even inserted a new clause. "Every gift, every luxury, and even the wedding ring was to be returned to Callum Jackson's possession immediately."

A sudden, inexplicable jolt of panic hit Callum's chest. For a split second, he had the terrifying realization that she wasn't bluffing; she actually wanted out.

The mention of the ring was the hardest blow.

He knew she cherished it above everything else, and seeing her discard it so easily felt wrong.

But the feeling vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced by a familiar wave of annoyance.

He rationalized it all. The moodiness, the ready-made contract, the pressure to sign—he saw it as a desperate, calculated move of hers to see if he would cave.

He was convinced she was incapable of leaving him. In his eyes, this was just an elaborate performance designed to make him stay.

But he refused to play her game.

The memory of Kaylee's fragile, pleading face flashed in his mind, fueling his resolve. With a sharp ache of sympathy for Kaylee, he gripped the pen and scrawled his signature across the line.

His handwriting was bold and authoritative, a reflection of his need to dominate every situation.

Callum shoved the papers back toward her, his eyes burning with a dark, suppressed fury. "You played your hand too aggressively this time. Just make sure you can live with the consequences."

The bureaucracy moved with chilling efficiency. The clock began ticking on the mandatory waiting period before the marriage officially dissolved.

Without a word, Olivia rose and made her way toward the exit.

The absurdity of it hit her. She was literally dying, yet she was spending her remaining hours checking off legal boxes for a divorce.

She let out a dry, hollow laugh. The harsh midday sun sent a wave of vertigo through her, draining the last of the color from her skin as she raised a hand to block out the light.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over her. Callum stepped into her line of sight, his broad frame shielding her from the sun and providing a fleeting, accidental moment of relief.

Olivia felt a crushing weight in her chest, like a hammer blow to the heart, while a sharp sting of unshed tears burned behind her eyelids.

However, the painful reality remained... The man standing in front of her was no longer the sanctuary he once was.

She moved out of his way, her lips curving into a ghost of a smile. "Goodbye, Callum," she said softly.

A sudden memory flashed through Callum's mind. He could clearly see the day they got married, and Olivia's beaming face as she teased, "Hello, Callum! I'm your wife, Olivia!"

At that moment, their shared happiness had been absolute.

He felt a strange tug in his chest, a fleeting sensation that perhaps their bond was still intact.

Callum convinced himself that they would be remarried within the year anyway, so this separation was nothing more than a temporary shift.

"Since the paperwork is finished, you should go home," he said, turning his back to walk away.

Olivia gave a slow shake of her head. "I'm not going back there."

Callum's brow furrowed as he turned to look at her in confusion.

Olivia faced him with a level of composure he had never witnessed before. "I've already packed my essentials, so there's no reason to return. You can just toss the rest of my things. Now that the divorce is filed, we need to live separate lives. I'm not going to hang around and be an obstacle for you."

Callum dismissed her words, assuming this was just another one of her dramatic moods, so he didn't bother arguing.

He simply gave her a long, intense look. "Have it your way," he said.

In his mind, he and Olivia had decades of time ahead, whereas Kaylee was facing a terminal illness with only a year left; he believed Kaylee simply had the more urgent need for his presence.

They both turned away simultaneously, their paths finally diverging as they walked in completely different directions.

Olivia barely managed to flag down a taxi and haul herself into the back seat; the agony was so sharp and relentless that she instinctively curled into a ball, her breathing coming in ragged, desperate gasps.

At that same moment, Callum's black Cayenne surged past, its engine letting out a low roar as it disappeared into the thick of the traffic.

Settled behind the wheel, Callum was already focused on his call with Kaylee.

"It's over now. Don't carry any guilt—she and I made this decision together. I'm heading your way now, and I'll make sure to pick up your favorite bouquet."

Fighting a losing battle against the pain, Olivia used her fading strength to dial a familiar number, but the darkness claimed her before she could utter a single word.

Olivia felt as though she had been wandering through an endless, suffocating void for an eternity.

It was as if she had traversed jagged peaks and struggled through rising currents; the metallic, haunting scent of her own life force ebbed away.

Though her spirit was flagging and every muscle screamed for rest, a flicker of raw survival instinct kept pushing her forward, refusing to let her give in.

Centuries seemed to pass before the low murmur of voices reached her, accompanied by the sterile, clinical sting of disinfectant. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open.

A blurred, towering silhouette began to take shape in her field of vision.

Driven by a deep-seated instinct, she breathed a single name into the quiet. "Callum..."

"Olivia!" The figure moved closer, and a soothingly cool palm settled against her brow.

As the fog finally cleared, the features of the man standing over her came into sharp focus.

The man wasn't Callum; instead, it was Michael Scott, her friend since childhood.

He had once been the undisputed star of their medical school, a brilliant mind who had half the female student body trailing in his wake.

Now, he stood as the head of hematology in an exclusive hospital, his handsome features framed by rimless glasses that lent him a sophisticated, scholarly charm.

The memories of the taxi ride flooded back, and a trace of bitter irony touched her lips. "So you saved me again."

The sound of her whispering Callum's name still echoed in Michael's mind, sending a sharp, familiar pang of hurt through his chest.

For over ten years, he had carried a silent crush on her, well aware that Callum held a permanent, untouchable lease on her heart. Letting out a weary sigh, he retrieved her phone and handed it back to Olivia.

"I've reviewed your complete lab results. It's grimmer than we anticipated—you're at risk of burning it out at any second. Do you want me to call Callum?"

Olivia pushed herself up against the headboard, her movements slow but determined. She gave a faint shake of her head, her voice eerily steady. "We're going through a divorce."

Michael went completely still.

"He's marrying Kaylee," she added flatly.

The device tumbled from Michael's hand onto the mattress. The revelation hit him like a physical blow, leaving him reeling.

Olivia met his eyes with a faint, ironic smile.

"Kaylee's claim is that she's terminal with only a year left. Her final request was to have Callum by her side, and he didn't hesitate to say yes."

"That absolute bastard!" Michael hissed, his hands curling into tight fists. "You're on the same clock! How can he just walk away from his wife for someone else?"

He pivoted, intent on tracking Callum down for a reckoning.

Olivia caught his arm. "Michael, honestly, I feel a sense of relief. At least I won't die under the delusion that he ever actually loved me. Imagine how pathetic it would be to meet my parents in the afterlife still holding onto a lie."

She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with a momentary warmth that reminded him of the woman she used to be—vibrant, happy, and untouched by tragedy.

If only that one moment in time hadn't shattered everything.

Michael fought back tears, forcing a professional mask into place. "I'm starting your admission paperwork."

"Don't bother," she countered. "We both know this is incurable. I'm not spending my final year in a sterile room. I have work to do. Just keep this between us—no one else can know. My time is too valuable to waste on drama."

Recognizing her stubborn resolve, Michael gave a pained nod. He insisted on a twenty-four-hour observation period and ordered a nurse to start her on fresh IV nutritional fluids.

As the fluids slowly entered her system, Olivia reached out to Peter Ford, the director at the Oasis Research Institute, to initiate the revival of the Beacon project.

The Beacon project was her parents' legacy, a mission they had poured everything into before their lives were cut short in a tragic accident halfway through its development.

Without their leadership, the remaining team couldn't sustain the initiative, and the project was shelved indefinitely.

Olivia had been paralyzed by grief for years, unable to face the work her parents left behind or the crushing realization that finishing the Beacon project was their ultimate final wish.

The weight of her inaction felt like a betrayal.

"Olivia, I'm thrilled you're ready to bring the Beacon project back to life—it's a ray of hope for so many blood disease patients," Peter said, his voice thick with worry. "You have my full backing, but that drug trial you just finished was brutal on your system. You need at least six months of rest and regular monitoring. The project isn't going anywhere; we can wait until you're healthy."

A hollow smile touched her lips. Time was the one luxury she no longer possessed.

The physical toll was irreversible; even the most brilliant medical minds couldn't pull her back from the edge now.

"I appreciate the concern, Peter, but there's no time for that. Let's get things going as soon as possible. I'll be there tomorrow morning."

Following a long beat of hesitation, Peter finally gave in.

Olivia let out a shaky breath as she ended the call, only for a sharp irritation to seize her throat. She yanked the IV from her vein and stumbled to the bathroom, barely making it to the sink before coughing up a spray of crimson.

She frantically scrubbed the basin, her heart hammering with the fear that Michael would find the evidence and force her to stay bedridden in the hospital.

Once the sink was spotless, she headed for the door to summon a nurse for the IV. Her footsteps stopped cold when a live news broadcast caught her eye on the hallway monitor.

The screen showed a swarm of reporters outside the Jackson Group's R&D facility, all clamoring around Kaylee.

Callum stood tall at her side, his powerful silhouette commanding the attention of everyone in the frame.