Chapter 1

The sound of the opening bell was deafening. Confetti rained down on the trading floor of the NASDAQ. I stood on the podium, my arm around my wife, Sarah, smiling for the cameras as the stock symbol for our company, Innovatech, flashed green on the giant screen. We were officially a public company. Years of sleepless nights, of coding in my garage, of pouring every dollar we had into this dream, had finally paid off. I was on top of the world.

Just two hours later, I was sitting in a sterile white office, the smell of antiseptic filling my nose. The smile was gone from my face.

Dr. Alex Chen looked at the scans on his light board, his expression grim. He didn't need to say a word. I already knew.

"It's pancreatic cancer, Ethan," he said, his voice soft. "Stage four. It's... aggressive."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. IPO day. The best day of my life. And now this. The irony was so cruel it felt like a physical blow.

I drove home in a daze. The city lights blurred through the windshield. I needed to tell Sarah. We would face this together. We had faced everything together.

When I walked through the door of our large, empty house, Sarah was waiting for me in the living room. She wasn't smiling. She was dressed in a sharp business suit, not the celebratory dress she'd worn earlier. A leather briefcase was on the coffee table.

"Sarah," I started, my voice cracking. "I just came from the doctor's office. It's bad news."

She held up a hand, stopping me.

"I know," she said. Her voice was cold, completely devoid of emotion.

"You know?"

"I called Dr. Chen's office. The receptionist told me he had an urgent appointment with you. I figured it was something serious." She opened the briefcase and slid a thick stack of papers across the polished wood of the table. "These are divorce papers, Ethan."

I stared at the documents, then back at her face. I couldn't process it. "Divorce? Now? Sarah, I have cancer."

A small, ugly smirk played on her lips. "Exactly. I've already had my lawyer execute a transfer of the liquid assets. The company's IPO provided a lot of liquidity. It's better this way."

"Better this way? I'm sick, Sarah! I'm dying!"

"Don't be so dramatic," she scoffed, standing up and smoothing down her suit. "Treatment would be a waste of money. Money that is now mine. You should just take whatever is left and enjoy your last few days. Don't waste it on doctors."

She walked towards the door, her heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floor. She didn't look back once. The door closed behind her with a soft, final click. I was alone. The divorce papers sat on the table, a testament to a decade of my life turning into a lie. The confetti from the morning felt like a distant, faded memory.

I don't know how long I sat there, just staring into space. An hour? Two? The doorbell rang, jolting me back to reality. I ignored it. It rang again, more insistent this time. I dragged myself to the door and opened it.

It was Chloe Davis. My childhood friend. She was supposed to be in London, managing a huge European fund. But she was here, on my doorstep, her suitcase by her feet. Her face was etched with worry.

"I heard," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "A friend at the hospital called me. I got on the first flight. I'm not leaving, Ethan."

She dropped her lucrative career, her life abroad, without a second thought. She walked past me into the house that was suddenly cold and empty, and began to turn on the lights, bringing warmth back into the space.

I looked at her, my oldest and truest friend, and then I looked at the divorce papers still sitting on the table.

In that moment, I felt a flicker of something in the numbness. It was a deep, quiet gratitude for her. She was my real partner. And I knew, with a certainty that cut through the shock and the pain, that I would make sure she was the one who was ultimately taken care of.