The Fake Cancer and My Real Empire

"If you don't let Mallory stay, I don't want you as my mom!"My sevenyearold son hammers his fists into my legs.

Roman slams a biopsy report right onto my cold anniversary dinner. "She has terminal cancer, Celine! Have some compassion!" he roars.

Mallory shrinks against his chest, clutching his shirt. The ultimate victim act. Eight years of marriage. Seven years sacrificing everything to raise his premature son.

They toss me aside for a gaslighting ex. I don't shed a single tear. I grab a pen. I slap the signed divorce papers directly over her fake medical report. "Keep the house.

Keep the kid." I walk out the door and build a global jewelry empire from the ground up. Months later, I drop a 4K dashcam video online.

I expose Mallory's fake cancer to the whole world. Roman drops to his knees in the pouring rain, sobbing and begging for forgiveness.

I step right over him in my custom heels. "Security. Get these rabid dogs out of my sight." Chapter 1 "Mallory's health is failing.

I'm moving her in so we can take care of her." I stared down at the dining table. Next to the elaborate, hot anniversary dinner I spent hours cooking sat a printed biopsy report.

A cancer diagnosis. This was Roman's eighth anniversary gift to me. Mallory leaned all her weight against Roman's chest.

She shrank into him, playing the fragile victim to absolute perfection. "Roman, let's just drop it. Celine clearly doesn't want me here. Besides, I'm dying anyway.

Just leave me be." Roman tightened his grip on her waist. "Don't talk like that, Mallory.

You're going to pull through." His head snapped toward me, the tenderness in his eyes morphing instantly into pure venom. "Are you even human, Celine?!

You can't even show an ounce of compassion for a dying woman. You're completely coldblooded.

What kind of twisted role model are you for Miles?!" Taking his father's cue, my sevenyearold boy marched over.

He balled his little hands into fists and slammed them against my thighs. "You're a bad mom! If you don't let Mallory stay, I don't want you anymore!" All the air left the room.

My lungs forgot how to expand. A deafening ringing filled my ears. The hot, elaborate anniversary meal went stonecold. Just like my heart.

Two identical faces glared back at me, dripping with selfrighteous anger. One belonged to the man I gave eight years of my life.

The other belonged to the child I bled and sacrificed seven years to raise.

Through every late night Roman spent away from home, through every blatant red flag I ignored, Miles was my only anchor. I felt the phantom warmth of his tiny hand in mine.

I heard the echo of his sweet voice calling me Mommy. Now, he was tossing me aside for a complete stranger. My vision blurred.

A sharp, physical ache bloomed tight in my chest, suffocating any remaining trace of anger. I let out a dry, hollow laugh.

I turned away, needing the sanctuary of my bedroom. "Hold on." Roman's voice cracked like a whip across my back. "Mallory needs the primary bedroom. She's sick. Pack your things.

You're moving to the attic." I didn't argue. I couldn't. I pushed into the bedroom and shut the door.

My fingers shook as I unlocked my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in years. "Josephine. I'm ready.

I want to come back." A sharp gasp echoed through the speaker, followed by explosive energy. "Are you serious?! Celine, finally! You finally woke up from that nightmare!

You stepping away for that marriage was the biggest tragedy to hit the design world. Give me a second.

I'm getting you back on the board right now!" A bitter taste coated my tongue. "Do it." I pulled up a travel app and booked a oneway flight out of the city for next month.

Minutes later, I opened Instagram. Josephine had already posted a cryptic, celebratory update about a queen returning to her throne. Right beneath her post was one from Roman.

His display name mocked me from the screen: Waiting for the M. Years ago, he swore the M stood for My light, all about me. About finding his way through the dark until he met me.

Staring at the screen, the gaslighting finally clicked into place. The M didn't stand for My light. It always stood for Mallory. I clicked on his post.

A photo of Roman and Miles sitting in a sunlit bakery. Mallory sat right between them. The caption read: "Life is sweeter when you're with the sweetest people." Roman hated sugar.

Miles threw tantrums over anything baked. Mallory's radiant, victorious smile practically burned through the glass of my phone. They didn't hate sweets.

They just hated eating them with me.

Chapter 2 Below his picture, a comment from a mutual friend mocked him. [Aren't you worried your wife will leave you, man?] Roman's reply was three words. [She wouldn't dare.] He was right.

I wouldn't. Eight years ago, I had swallowed his promises of forever and torched my own career. I had played the perfect, silent housewife.

Now, without him and Miles, I had nothing. A dizzy spell washed over me just as a shadow fell over me. Roman shoved a plastic bakery box into my hands. "Here.

I remembered strawberry is your favorite." I stared through the clear plastic. The cake was stale.

The single strawberry on top was already sinking into a pool of melted, collapsed frosting. He didn't buy this for me. These were Mallory's leftovers.

I flicked the lid open and dumped the entire box straight into the trash can. Roman's jaw locked.

He bared his teeth. "What the hell is wrong with you, Celine?!" "Taking out the trash," I deadpanned. The veins in his neck bulged. "I actually remembered our goddamn anniversary!

I bought you a gift, and you act like an ungrateful bitch!" "Yeah!

I am ungrateful!" My voice bounced off the walls. "From now on, you bring her garbage into this house, I throw it out!" Roman lunged. He raised a fist. I didn't flinch.

His knuckles swerved past my face and smashed directly into the massive wedding portrait hanging on the wall. Glass exploded.

The heavy frame crashed to the hardwood floor, splintering into a dozen pieces. He stormed out, leaving me alone in the wreckage of our marriage.

I sank to the floor, my fingers mindlessly tracing the jagged shards of the broken frame. I looked at my own reflection in the broken glass. Tears streaked down my face.

My breath hitched. A cold, nauseating knot twisted in my gut. My tearsoaked eyes. The slope of my nose. The tilt of my chin. I bore a striking resemblance to Mallory.

About seventy percent identical. I wasn't a wife. I was a placeholder. My stomach rolled. I dropped the glass, grabbed the torn photograph, and ripped it to shreds.

The next morning, the smell of sizzling butter drifted upstairs. Roman hadn't cooked a single meal in eight years. Today, he prepared a massive breakfast spread.

Mallory sat at the kitchen island, chewing happily. "Roman, you spoil me." "You deserve it." Roman stroked her hair. "I made your favorite shrimp omelets. You're weak.

You need the protein." Miles shoved a plate toward her. "Yeah! Eat this one, Auntie Mallory, it's the best!" They looked like a pictureperfect family from a cereal commercial.

I was just the intruder. Roman cleared his throat when he saw me. "I made shrimp omelets. Have some." "Yeah, his cooking is amazing!

Try a bite, Celine!" Mallory scooped a heavy piece of egg and shrimp onto a small plate and slid it toward me. I kept my eyes blank.

I picked up the small plate, walked to the garbage disposal, and scraped it all down the drain. Mallory gasped.

Tears instantly welled in her eyes. "Even if you hate me, you shouldn't throw away Roman's hard work." Seeing her cry snapped something in Roman.

He slammed his hands on the marble counter. "I let your psychotic behavior slide last night, Celine!

Why the hell are you sulking with that miserable look on your face this morning?! Stop throwing tantrums!" "I have a stomach ulcer." My voice was dead. "I can't eat seafood.

Did you forget?" Roman froze. The color drained from his face. Years ago, the stress of raising a colicky Miles had wrecked my digestive system. I developed chronic ulcers.

He knew that. He used to meticulously pick the tiny shrimp out of my seafood pasta so I wouldn't get sick. Now, his mind was wiped clean of my existence.

Mallory blinked her teary eyes. "An ulcer is no excuse.

If Roman made me breakfast, I'd eat every last bite, even if I had to chug stomach medicine afterward." Miles rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Exactly!

Mallory isn't a drama queen like some people!" The shock melted off Roman's face, replaced by a sickeningly sweet smile aimed at his ex. "Alright, princess." He tapped Mallory's nose. "It's the thought that counts.

Your fragile body can't handle that kind of torture right now." Chapter 3 I refused to sit through another second of their twisted soap opera.

I slammed my fork onto the table. "Then you better lick the plate clean.

Don't leave a single scrap of garbage behind." I retreated to my room and buried myself in my old design portfolios. Eight years away from the industry had left my skills rusty.

I needed to catch up, but the constant, muffled giggling outside my door made it impossible to focus. "What do you actually think of your mom?" Mallory's voice drifted through the wood, sickly sweet. "She's annoying!" Miles groaned. "She nags all day, dresses like a total bum, and never lets me eat anything good!" Mallory giggled. "And what about me?" "You take me to fun places and buy me awesome snacks.

You're the best." "Do you want to call me your bonus mom, then?" "Yeah! Bonus Mom!" Miles chirped, his voice dripping with affection. Ice flooded my veins.

Miles was born prematurely. He spent his first two years constantly sick, requiring aroundtheclock care. Roman buried himself in his startup and never changed a single diaper.

I sacrificed my entire career to keep that boy breathing, nursing him through endless fevers. Now, a stranger bought his loyalty with a handful of junk food.

A sudden crack of thunder jolted me out of my thoughts. Rain lashed against the bedroom window. My orchids. I kept a rare collection on the back patio.

I rushed outside to pull the pots in from the storm, only to find the stems snapped. The delicate petals were stomped into the wet concrete. Click. I whipped around.

The heavy glass slider was shut tight. The lock engaged. "Miles! Open the door!" I slammed my palms against the glass.

On the other side, Miles pointed at me and yelled, "Bonus Mom, hurry! Come look at the drowned rat!" Mallory strolled into view.

She tapped his nose affectionately. "You little rascal. Come on, let's go buy those snacks." "Yay!" Miles grabbed her hand, skipping away without a backward glance.

Lightning ripped across the sky. The freezing downpour soaked through my clothes in seconds. I pressed my back against the wet brick wall. My teeth chattered.

Violent shivers wracked my body. Hours blurred together. The storm raged until the last crushed orchid petal washed down the drain. Finally, the glass door slid open.

Roman stood there. The harsh living room lights blinded me. I stood dripping on the hardwood, my skin ghostly pale, my hair plastered to my skull.

Mallory gasped, covering her mouth in mock horror. "Oh my god, Celine, what happened to you?" Miles peeked out from behind her legs, sticking his tongue out at me.

Roman just crossed his arms. His brows pinched in annoyance. "You're an adult, Celine. How do you manage to lock yourself out on the back patio?

Pay attention next time." I didn't say a word. I lunged past him, reaching straight for Miles. Roman shoved me hard in the chest. "What the hell is wrong with you?!

Are you seriously attacking a child?" "He doesn't know any better! Don't you?!" My wet feet slipped on the wood. I crashed hard onto the floor, a sharp pain shooting up my hip.

Miles erupted into a fit of laughter. They held the court. They passed the sentence. I was the victim, but I was the only one on trial. I looked up at the two men in my life.

A dry laugh scraped up my raw throat. Then another. I forced myself off the floor. I wiped the rainwater from my eyes, locked my jaw, and walked straight toward them.

Smug, mocking grins spread across both their faces. They thought I was coming to beg. Chapter 4 Smack. My palm connected with Roman's cheek.

The sound cracked like a gunshot in the living room. Before Miles could even blink, I swiped my hand down, slapping the bag of candy right out of his grip. The plastic tore.

Sugary junk exploded across the hardwood floor. Miles backed away, his eyes blown wide in terror. Tears spilled over his lashes. "I hate you! You're a toxic witch!

No wonder nobody wants you!" Roman's chest heaved. He stepped forward, his eyes burning with pure rage.

Playing the perfect, gentle angel, Mallory immediately grabbed his arm to hold him back. She turned her reprimanding gaze to me. "Celine, please.

Miles is just a child, how can a mother—" Smack. I backhanded her right across the jaw. "Shut up," I snapped. I'd been dying to do that. Mallory's eyes fluttered.

She crumpled to the floor, executing a theatrical faint. The sight shocked Miles into silence. Roman panicked.

He scooped Mallory's limp body into his arms and glared daggers at me. "If her condition gets worse, I will make you pay for this!" He grabbed Miles by the collar, dragging his son out the front door as if I were a monster about to eat him alive.

The silence that followed was a blessing. But the freezing rain from the back patio took its toll. By midnight, a violent fever ripped through me.

I dragged my aching body out of bed, stumbling through the dark hallway to find some Tylenol. A figure stepped out of the shadows. I forced my heavy eyelids open.

Mallory stood there, her eyes gleaming with malice. "You look like a stray dog, Celine." She sneered. "If I hadn't gone abroad, do you really think Roman would have ever settled for you?" She let out a coy, fakeinnocent laugh. "It doesn't matter now.

He only loves me. And your precious son? He only wants me as his mom.

Honestly, if I failed this hard at being a woman, I'd just kill myself." Adrenaline spiked, burning through the fever haze.

Seeing her open her mouth to spew more trash, I raised my hand and delivered another brutal slap across her cheek. Mallory smirked.

She let herself fall backward, timing it perfectly as the front door clicked open. She collapsed right into Roman's arms.

She instantly burst into breathless sobs, burying her face in his chest. "Roman… I just wanted to check on her… but she hit me again." She clutched her heart. "It hurts so much.

I can't take it… am I dying?" Roman's face twisted into a demonic mask. His fingers clamped around my throat. "She's a patient, Celine!

You're trying to murder her!" Black spots swarmed my vision. A highpitched ringing screamed in my ears. My lungs burned for oxygen.

My hands clawed weakly at his wrists, my nails scraping against his skin. Just as the darkness threatened to swallow me whole, he shoved me backward.

I collapsed against the wall, gasping for air, my throat on fire.

He spit the words at me. "She finally gets discharged from the hospital, and you're hellbent on torturing her!" He turned to carry her back out to the ER, but Mallory stopped him.

She whispered something soft against his neck, coaxing him. They walked straight into the master bedroom. The lock clicked shut.

Ten minutes later, the muffled sounds of breathless moans and shifting sheets leaked through the walls. I didn't care if they were having an affair. The fever spiked higher.

My stomach ulcer flared, twisting like a branding iron in my gut. I curled into a tight ball on the floor, waiting for the agony to pass before finally swallowing the pills.

Thanks to the drama, Roman and Miles stayed away from the house for days. I finally had some peace. Then, the phone rang. The elementary school principal.

Miles got into a fistfight. I dialed Roman's number. Call declined. Instant voicemail. I locked my jaw and typed out a text. [Miles is in trouble. He got into a fight at school.

Go handle it.] Three words came back. [I'm too busy.] Chapter 5 Radio silence. Typical Roman. Every single time Miles acted out, his father pulled a vanishing act.

If he wasn't going to show up, neither was I. But I miscalculated. The elementary school only had my number listed as his emergency contact.

My phone buzzed relentlessly, shattering my focus on the design drafts. I grabbed my keys and headed out. I walked into the principal's office and stopped dead.

Mallory was already there. She hovered over Miles, playing the deeply concerned parent. The principal looked between us, baffled by the sudden appearance of two mothers.

Miles pointed a rigid finger right at my chest. "She's not my mom! She's just the maid!" He turned and buried his face into Mallory's waist. "This is my real mom!" Mallory smirked.

She stroked his hair, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "You can head back, Celine. I've got it from here." My feet rooted to the linoleum floor. The air in the room thinned out.

A cold, heavy numbness crawled up my spine, freezing my blood. I stared at the two of them. They looked like the perfect picture of a mother and son.

He made his choice. "You're absolutely right, Miles." My voice came out hollow, devoid of any warmth. "Mallory is your mother now.

As of today, I never gave birth to you." I became a ghost in my own house. I stopped caring about the giggles down the hall or the meals they shared.

I locked myself in the bedroom, pouring every ounce of my energy into my sketches. Then, Josephine dropped the bomb. Mallory forged her medical records.

The cancer was a complete lie. I closed my eyes. The pieces snapped together. Her pathetic acting, the miraculous recoveries—it was a horribly sloppy lie.

Roman's blind obsession just paved over all the massive red flags. I saved the digital files to a flash drive. The perfect parting gift. My total indifference unsettled Roman.

He actually started peeling himself away from Mallory to buy me flowers and expensive jewelry.

He tried to mimic our dating years, back when he swore he would love me for a lifetime. A lifetime didn't even last eight years. Then came my birthday.

Roman promised me a massive surprise. He delivered. He slapped a stack of divorce papers onto the kitchen counter. He looked pale, almost panicked. "Mallory is deteriorating.

To get her on my premium insurance and make lifeordeath medical decisions, we need to be legally married. Celine, we need to divorce. Just temporarily.

I swear to God," he scrambled to explain, desperate to sell the lie. "Once she pulls through this, we'll remarry immediately!" He didn't need the pathetic act.

I pulled a pen from my pocket. "I'll sign. But I keep all the assets.

The house, the accounts, everything transfers to my name." Roman frowned, hesitating for a fraction of a second. But his desperation to save his fakedying ex won out.

He snatched the pen and scribbled his signature across the bottom line. I glanced at Miles, who was lurking by the hallway. "Who are you staying with?" Miles scoffed.

He glared at me like I was dirt. "I'm Dad's son. Obviously I'm staying with him. We're a real family." He stuck his tongue out at me and darted over to grab Roman's hand.

I nodded slowly. "You told the whole school Mallory was your mother. Congratulations, Miles. You finally got your wish." I didn't stick around to watch their reactions.

I shoved the signed divorce papers into my leather tote and walked to the attic. Eight years of marriage, and my entire life fit into a single suitcase.

I spent nearly a decade pouring my soul into those two boys, leaving nothing for myself. Ten minutes later, I zipped the bag shut. I walked out the front door and never looked back.

Chapter 6 Miles away, Roman stared at the finalized divorce decree in his hands. A sharp, phantom pain flared in his chest. An instinct that he just lost something irreplaceable.

He shoved the feeling down, quickly tapping his phone screen to pull up Mallory's smiling photo. She's just throwing a tantrum, he rationalized. Celine loves me too much.

She'll tolerate anything. She always comes crawling back. He unlocked the front door. Dead silence. The house felt hollow. Cold panic gripped his chest.

He sprinted up the stairs and shoved open the bedroom door. Empty. Stripped bare. Only one thing sat perfectly centered on the vanity: my parting gift. The forged medical records.

The fake cancer. Oblivious, Mallory leaned against the doorframe, still playing her twisted role. "Honestly, Roman. Celine is so immature, running away over a tiny argument.

I would never—" Roman's hands shook violently. He whipped around and hurled the thick stack of papers directly into her face. The heavy files slapped her skin with a sharp crack.

Mallory gasped in shock. Then, her eyes dropped to the scattered pages on the floor. Her knees instantly gave out. She crashed onto the hardwood. "Roman, wait!

It's not what you think! Let me explain, I just loved you too much!" White noise roared in Roman's ears. He didn't hear a word she said. The brutal reality finally crushed him.

I was truly gone. Shedding that toxic marriage felt like taking my first real breath in eight years. I completely dropped off the map.

I moved to a new city, wiped the slate clean, and breathed free air for the first time in a decade. Roman hired people to track me down, but finding me was a needle in a haystack.

Besides, he didn't have the time. The second I signed those papers, Mallory got greedy. She paid off the tabloids to instantly announce their secret wedding. The internet exploded.

The news of Roman dumping his loyal wife to marry his mistress went viral. The company stock tanked overnight. Three days later, he filed for his second divorce.

A spectacular, humiliating trainwreck. I didn't care. I had an empire to rebuild. Six months later. Crystal chandeliers fractured the light across the luxury hotel ballroom.

My debut jewelry collection officially launched. Waiters in crisp tuxedos floated past with champagne. This was my arena. I belonged here.

Sacrificing my talent for Roman was the dumbest mistake of my life. "Auntie Celine! Try this, it's so good!" Hazel trotted toward me, carefully balancing a dessert plate.

She was Josephine's daughter. Josephine was out of the country closing a major deal, so I happily took over godmother duties for the week. I smiled and crouched down to meet her.

Before I could take a bite, a blur shot past me. Two hands roughly shoved Hazel's shoulders. Hazel hit the floor hard. The porcelain plate shattered.

Cake and jagged shards exploded everywhere. "Don't touch my mom!" a voice shrieked. I dropped to my knees, checking Hazel's arms and legs for cuts.

Only after I knew she was safe did I snap my head up to look at the attacker. Miles. He stood there, chest heaving. When he met my eyes, his lower lip trembled.

He took a pathetic step forward. "Mom," he whimpered. I scooped Hazel up, shielding her small body from him. My voice dropped to absolute zero. "Don't call me that.

I am not your mother." The rejection hit him like a physical blow. Tears instantly spilled down his cheeks. Hazel buried her face in my neck, trembling with fright.

I rubbed her back, whispering soft comforts, ignoring the boy crying in front of me. Heavy footsteps approached. Roman parted the crowd, his eyes locking onto me.

Chapter 7 I spun around, shielding Hazel against my chest, ready to walk away.

But a hand clamped down hard on my wrist. "Celine." Roman's voice was a raw, gravelly rasp. "I finally found you.

Do you have any idea what these past few months have been like for me?" I ripped my arm out of his iron grip. I scrubbed my skin where his fingers had just been. "Roman.

Back off." "Are you still punishing me over Mallory?" Desperation leaked from every syllable. "She lied to me about the cancer. I know everything now.

I kicked her out months ago." He took a frantic step closer. "Let's go home. Please. Let's fix this." His trembling fingers reached into his tailored suit jacket.

He pulled out a pair of tiny, handcrafted ceramic figurines. "I know why you didn't pack these when you left! I brought them back to you. We can be a family again, Celine.

Just come home." They were the custom pieces we had painted together at a pottery studio on our first anniversary. Our promise of forever. A dry, hollow laugh scraped up my throat.

I reached out and took them. Relief crashed over Roman's face. His eyes lit up with pathetic, desperate hope. I opened my hand and let them drop.

The ceramic shattered against the marble floor. Sharp shards exploded outward, slicing a thin red line across Roman's wrist and nicking Miles right on the cheek.

Miles immediately burst into a piercing, hysterical wail. I didn't even blink. He wasn't my son anymore. Roman didn't even check on the bleeding boy. He never had.

He just stared down at the pulverized pieces of our past, the light completely dying in his eyes. "I didn't pack them because they're garbage," I said, my voice dead flat. "And I don't take garbage with me.

We're adults, Roman. We signed the papers. Drop this sickeningly devoted husband act. It's pathetic." I turned on my heel, done with both of them.

Roman lunged, his fingers digging into my bicep with a bruising grip. "Eight years, Celine! Was eight years of marriage worthless to you?! And Miles?

Are you really going to abandon him? You're just going to leave him motherless?!" His agonizing questions didn't even make my heart skip a beat. It was just funny.

I clamped my hands gently over Hazel's ears to block out his toxic garbage. "My only regret in life is that I ever met you both." Roman's face hardened, taking another desperate step forward.

My patience snapped. Smack. I backhanded him straight across the jaw. Get the hell away from me, Roman.

Unless you want tomorrow's headline to be about you harassing your exwife. "Cel—" "Roman!

I finally found you!" Mallory shoved her way through the cocktail crowd, her face flushed with frantic excitement.

The second Roman had discovered her fake cancer, he tossed her to the curb. But last month, Mallory hit the ultimate jackpot. She was pregnant.

Her golden ticket back into Roman's wallet. She practically tackled him. She grabbed his bleeding hand and pressed it flat against her stomach. "Roman, I'm pregnant!

We're having a baby!" All the blood instantly drained from Roman's face. He stared at her stomach, then jerked his terrified eyes back to me. "Celine, wait! Let me explain