Just as I was about to turn and walk away, Alexander’s voice cut through the air.

“Madeline, how long are you going to throw this tantrum?”

He stepped closer, gripping my wrist tightly, catching me off guard. His once captivating dark eyes now burned with anger and hostility. “Stop threatening to leave! If you do, the company will cut off funding for the Sunrise Orphanage!”

I froze, disbelief coursing through me. I never expected Alexander would wield the orphanage’s funding as a weapon against me.

I lost my parents when I was just over a year old. My brother and I grew up at the Sunrise Orphanage. My biggest dream as a child was to make enough money one day so the kids there could wear new clothes and never go hungry.

Later, I joined Alexander in his business ventures. We squeezed into a cramped basement, where he kissed me passionately, promising that once he made it big, he’d make sure the orphanage kids had happy childhoods.

When he finally achieved success, he kept that promise. He expanded the Sunrise Orphanage and donated generously each year. Seeing the smiles on those kids’ faces filled me with warmth and hope.

But now, I was blindsided by the realization that the precious warmth he once offered could be twisted into a threat.

I hated feeling cornered.

In the final moments of my life, I didn’t want to share a roof with Alexander and Chelsea, but his power loomed over me like a dark cloud. I feared he would cut off the orphanage’s funding and hurt the kind woman who had cared for me like a mother, leaving me no choice but to comply.

As I remained silent, his anger seemed to wane just a little.

Suddenly, his phone rang insistently. It was Chelsea, on the other end, whining about a stomachache. He hurried out of the bedroom, leaving me alone.

“Buddy…”

Just as he stepped out, my golden retriever, whom I’d raised for twelve years, limped in.

After our fight in the private room, I hadn’t returned to the yard; I went straight to a hotel, leaving Buddy behind. The house staff knew how much I adored him and took good care of him. In the ten days I’d been gone, he’d put on a bit of weight.

Buddy sensed my sadness and curled up his injured leg, half-sitting in front of me, nudging my hand gently with his head.

I knew he was trying to comfort me.

I hated feeling this way, but Alexander’s favoritism toward Chelsea was tearing me apart.

I couldn’t bear the thought of parting with Buddy. His clumsy attempts to cheer me up broke down my defenses, and I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer.

I hugged him tightly, letting the floodgates open.

“Buddy, it feels like he’s changed. I thought a heart could only hold one person at a time. When someone says they love you, it should last forever. I never imagined he could fall for another girl. He should have waited a little longer. I won’t take up too much of his time, but he won’t even wait a month. Why is he in such a rush?”

My tears fell onto Buddy’s soft fur, and I could see the worry in his eyes, glistening with moisture as well.

He nudged my palm again, as if pleading for me to find some happiness.

I didn’t want Buddy to share in my sadness. After squeezing him one more time, I reluctantly returned him to his little bed.

The pain in my body persisted, even after taking painkillers, and I tossed and turned until I finally succumbed to a restless sleep.

In my dreams, I was seventeen again, reliving a nightmare. Alexander’s gambling-addicted father, fueled by anger and alcohol, lunged at him with a knife. As I watched the blade glint ominously in the dim light, fear gripped me, but my instinct to protect Alexander overwhelmed it. Without thinking, I jumped in front of him.

The knife cut my left shoulder, and Alexander went wild, unleashing his fury on his father. My injury wasn’t severe, but the normally wild and fearless boy collapsed into my arms, sobbing like a child.

“Don’t ever do something so reckless again,” he begged, his voice breaking. “I can’t lose you. Without you, life means nothing.”

At eighteen, I believed Alexander loved me deeply.

But now, at twenty-eight, he was willing to hurt me for someone else.

He used to fear for my safety, but now, when I told him I was dying, he looked at me with annoyance, as if my suffering was an inconvenience.

I jolted awake, clutching my aching chest.

The scent of Chelsea’s perfume hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I couldn’t take it anymore; I needed fresh air.

As I stepped outside, horror seized me. There was Chelsea, kicking my loyal Buddy down the stairs from the second floor!

“Buddy!”

Panic surged through me. Even though I was barely steady on my feet, I stumbled down the stairs to the living room. I took the last few steps in a tumble, landing hard.

And there he was—my Buddy—curled up in a pool of blood, his golden fur soaked and matted. He looked up at me with a sorrowful gaze, tears glistening in his eyes, and then he lay still, unable to close them for the last time.

He’d never hurt anyone. Just sitting quietly in the hallway, he didn’t deserve this brutal fate.

“B-Buddy, wake up! Please, just wake up!”

Ignoring the blood covering him, I cradled Buddy in my arms, begging him to come back to me. But he was gone—his breath no longer there, his eyes forever closed.

Buddy had been a stray I took in years ago. When I first found him, he was just a tiny, starving pup. I’d only tossed him a few scraps, but he’d saved my brother and me from a gang once. He’d jumped in front of us, getting hurt in the process, and I couldn’t abandon him after that.

I named him Buddy, hoping he’d stay with me forever. But now, he was gone, and the thought of the monster who took him from me made my blood boil.

Fueled by rage, I pushed Chelsea, who had followed me down the stairs, hard to the ground.

“Ah!”

Ignoring her screams, I pounced on her, grappling with her as I struggled to lash out in any way I could. I spotted a teacup on the coffee table and smashed it, grabbing a shard of glass. I jabbed at her, lost in my fury. My own palm was cut and bleeding, but I felt nothing; all I could think about was avenging Buddy.

“Alexander, help! Madeline’s gone crazy! She’s trying to kill me!”

But I couldn’t finish what I started. I was so weak, my energy nearly spent. I managed only to scratch her shoulder before Alexander came rushing down.

He yanked me off her, cradling Chelsea protectively in his arms. His eyes, usually warm and loving, were now filled with concern and disappointment.

“Madeline, what are you doing?! Chelsea is sick! You can’t just attack her like this! Apologize to her!” he demanded.

I lifted my gaze, feeling numb as I looked into his eyes, frantic with worry for her. In that moment, I struggled to remember the face of the eighteen-year-old Alexander—the boy who once gave me warmth but now felt like a stranger pushing me into darkness.

Finally, I managed to speak, almost like I was in a daze. “B-Buddy’s dead. Chelsea kicked him to death…She…She killed Buddy! I wish I could make her pay for what she did—how could I possibly apologize?!”

“What did you just say?”

Alexander froze for a moment, his expression shifting as he noticed Buddy’s still body lying in the blood. The same dog who had once risked everything to save us.

“Buddy!”

I saw a flash of pain in Alexander’s eyes, but he didn’t push me to apologize to Chelsea. Instead, he turned to her, his gaze growing cold.

“Chelsea, why did you kick Buddy to death?”

“I...” Chelsea, used to being coddled by him, now looked panicked at his sudden harshness. But just as quickly, she returned to her helpless act.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to...” She shook her head, tears streaming down her face as if she were the one who’d been hurt.

“I was in pain, trying to find you. Then Buddy jumped on me, barking and biting. I was so scared, I just... pushed him down the stairs! I never thought he’d die! I swear I didn’t want to hurt him!”

Her sobs grew more dramatic, making it hard for her to speak clearly.

“You’re lying! I saw it all! Buddy didn’t attack you! You kicked him down the stairs on purpose!”

I couldn’t stand the thought of my Buddy dying in such agony, nor could I let her smear his memory. I thought Alexander would see through her lies—after all, Buddy had saved his life.

But then I heard him say, “Madeline, can’t you let it go? Chelsea said Buddy was attacking her! If that’s the case, she was just trying to defend herself. She didn’t do it on purpose. It’s just a dog. You can’t compare a dog’s life to a person’s safety!”

I was stunned.

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I couldn’t let them fall. My heart ached so much I felt like I’d lost the ability to cry.

I couldn’t believe he was downplaying Buddy’s death while trying to defend Chelsea. He’d promised to take care of Buddy, yet now he was treating it like it was no big deal.

A dog’s life is short—Buddy was already thirteen and had been struggling for the last couple of years with old injuries. How could he have attacked anyone?

Alexander was smart; he knew Chelsea was lying. But he refused to question her.

I looked at him, feeling empty and lost.

The eighteen-year-old Alexander, who lived on scraps and treated me like a treasure, was gone. The man standing before me now wore an expensive suit, his heart seemingly changed along with his wardrobe.

I barely recognized him anymore—and I was afraid to love him.

“Alexander, she hurt me so bad! Am I going to die? I’m so scared!” Chelsea whimpered, snuggling against him, acting fragile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you to the hospital right now!” He scooped her up without a second thought and rushed out.

Watching him rush to Chelsea’s side, I felt a wave of bitterness wash over me.

She had only minor injuries, yet he acted like she was on the brink of death. Meanwhile, I was dying of pancreatic cancer, and he treated me like I was being unreasonable.

It was laughable.

The man who had promised to love me until the end was now pouring his affection into someone else, leaving me with nothing.

So I decided I didn’t want him anymore.

I started to laugh—a harsh, bitter laugh.

But it didn’t bring me joy; as I laughed, blood trickled from my lips.

I didn’t want to dirty Buddy’s body, so I wiped my mouth and took him outside to the back of the yard.

I struggled to carry Buddy, but I wanted to give him a proper goodbye. I stumbled along until I reached my brother’s grave.

My brother had been my rock, and I knew he’d want to be there for me even now. After Alexander and I bought this yard, I had moved my brother’s grave to the hillside behind the house.

With the help of some of the staff, I dug a small hole next to my brother’s grave and gently laid Buddy to rest beside him.

Soon, I’d be joining them on that long road, reunited at last.

I stood there in a daze, watching the sun rise and set, lost in my grief.

After what felt like an eternity, the staff finally coaxed me back to the main house.

They commented on how thin I’d gotten and urged me to eat dinner. But my heart ached. They could see my suffering, but my husband was completely focused on another woman.

I picked at my food but couldn’t swallow anything. In the worried glances of the staff, I excused myself to the bedroom.

Lying in bed, sleep eluded me.

Staring at the white ceiling after, I was flooded with memories of eleven years ago. That day marked one year since we adopted Buddy. Despite his own hunger, Alexander bought a big cake for Buddy’s birthday, celebrating the day we rescued him.

He had promised to celebrate Buddy’s birthday every year.

My brother had teased Alexander, saying he treated Buddy better than people, calling him family.

But now, Chelsea shed a few tears, and Alexander brushed aside Buddy’s death as if it were nothing—like Buddy had deserved it somehow.

I couldn’t shake the image of Buddy lying in a pool of blood, and my heart felt like it was tearing apart. My whole body ached as if it were crumbling.

I fumbled for some painkillers, and after swallowing them, the pain finally eased a little.

But the agony persisted, and I was drenched in cold sweat, too weak to move, my eyelids heavy.

Just as I was about to drift off, the bed sank beside me, and Alexander’s hands found me, pushing my skirt up to my waist.

I realized it was him.

His hands, once tender and familiar, now felt foreign, coated with Chelsea’s perfume. I recoiled in disgust.

“Don’t touch me!”

Feeling him trying to pull me closer, I pushed him away with all my strength.

“Madeline, what are you doing?”

His annoyance flared as he looked at me, confusion and anger mixing in his expression.

I turned on the bedside lamp, meeting his gaze steadily. I felt empty, not sad or happy. “Alexander, let’s get a divorce.”

“What did you just say?”

His hands froze, disbelief written all over his face as if I were being unreasonable.

I spoke calmly, like a still lake, “I said, let’s get a divorce.”