Death Countdown, Love Already Cleared

"Ms. Douglas, won't you reconsider?"

The doctor's voice pressed through the phone. "Even late-stage lung cancer isn't completely hopeless. You're still young. With aggressive treatment, there's a chance. And your child is still so small—"

Harriet Douglas looked down at the cold little body in her arms. He wore his favorite astronaut jacket. Eyes closed. Peaceful. As if only sleeping.

"I'm refusing treatment." Her voice was terrifyingly calm. "I'd also like to sign an organ donation agreement."

"But your child—"

"My child doesn't need a mother anymore." Her fingers brushed his cold forehead. "He never will again."

She hung up, tossed the phone onto the crematorium bench, and fell apart.

She clutched that tiny body, shoulders shaking violently, but no sound escaped—only scalding tears soaking into her child's cold hair.

She remembered Theo Stuart's final moments. Those bright eyes, already fading, as he used his last breath to whisper: "Mommy, when's Daddy coming? I miss Daddy..."

Her chest constricted so tightly she couldn't breathe.

With trembling hands, she dialed the number she knew by heart—one that rarely answered.

It rang for a long time.

"What is it?" Julian Stuart's voice was ice-cold.

"Julian, Theo... he—"

"Harriet, I don't have time for this." He cut her off.

A soft voice drifted through the line. "Julian, Zane wants you to hold him. What should we play next?"

"Daddy, hold me!"

Kenna Douglas. Her sister. Julian's first love.

Only then did Harriet hear it—cheerful laughter, carnival music. An amusement park.

"You're with Kenna?" she asked.

"So what? What right do you have to question me?"

Her voice trembled. "Today is Theo's birthday. Did you know that?"

"Enough. Don't think I don't know what you're pulling—sending Theo to my office, using a child to guilt-trip me. Pull that again, and we're getting divorced."

Divorce. The word drove into her chest like a blade.

So that's what happened. Theo had gone to find his father. Her child—suffering from severe aplastic anemia, gasping after just a few steps—had crossed half the city alone.

And died on the way.

Harriet held the stiffening body tighter.

"Julian." Deathly calm now. "Let's get divorced. Come home tonight and sign the papers."

She hung up before he could respond. Pressed her face against her son's rigid cheek. "I'm sorry, Theo... Mommy was wrong. From the very beginning."

Five years ago, it had been an arranged marriage. She'd walked in carrying years of secret longing—knowing he didn't love her.

She thought she could change that. But before she could even try, his first love returned from abroad—Kenna, with her two-year-old son, Zane. From that moment, Julian only had eyes for them.

When Theo was born, Julian hadn't come to the hospital. In five years, he'd never once cared about his frail, sickly son.

But Theo had always longed for his father's love.

For five years, she'd worked tirelessly while dragging Theo from hospital to hospital. The Stuart family was wealthy, but Julian never gave her a cent for treatment.

Today, when she'd finally scraped together enough for the transplant, Theo had hugged her. "Mommy, after the surgery, will Daddy... like me when I'm healthy?"

Her heart had shattered.

Now none of it mattered.

A staff member approached. "Ms. Douglas, it's time."

She held her child tighter, then slowly—bit by bit—released her grip. One last time, she kissed his cold forehead.

She watched as Theo was placed on a white-sheeted gurney and wheeled away. Her tears wouldn't stop.

After a long while, staring at the gray sky, she whispered, "Theo, wait for me. Mommy's coming soon."

That evening, Harriet pushed open the front door, drenched from the rain.

Julian sat on the sofa, legs crossed. His gaze swept over her, cold as ice.

"Putting on another show?" His lips curled with mockery.

She didn't respond. Numbly removed her coat. For five years, everything she did was an act in his eyes.

His grandfather Owen Stuart had been gravely ill and begged her to marry Julian. Owen had funded her education—a debt she couldn't refuse. She'd given up her Cambridge acceptance without hesitation. For gratitude. For foolish hope.

Only later did she learn Julian already loved someone else. Her sister. He'd never wanted to marry her.

Just as she considered backing out, an accident happened. She'd been drugged. When she woke in Julian's bed, she met his utterly disgusted eyes.

"Harriet, you disgust me." Every word an icicle.

He'd planned to pay her off. But a month later, she was pregnant. Owen forced the marriage.

Thinking of Theo, the pain in her chest burned hotter. She'd held off on divorce for his sake—kept hoping Julian would turn around and see this child who shared his blood.

Until the day Theo died, he never once felt a father's love.

His voice echoed in her ears:

"Mommy, is it because of me that Daddy won't come home?"

"If I hadn't been born, would Daddy still hate you?"

"Mommy, I'm leaving... I won't bother Daddy anymore... you have to be happy..."

Tears mixed with rainwater streamed down her face.

"Enough." Julian's impatient voice cut through. "You called me back for this performance? That pathetic look only makes me hate you more."

Harriet looked up. Pulled a document from her bag. Placed it on the coffee table.

"Let's get divorced."

Julian froze, then laughed. He flipped through the agreement—and his expression shifted. She wanted nothing. No assets. No alimony. Nothing.

"Just this house?" His gaze sharpened.

"Yes."

He smirked. "Playing hard to get? You know what this house is worth."

"Don't worry. When I die, the house goes back to you."

His eyes narrowed with deeper contempt. "Even using death as leverage now."

Harriet didn't explain. She looked around. Theo's traces were everywhere here. She wanted to spend her final days in this place.

"Pen." She held out her hand, fingers still trembling.

Julian stared, then pulled a fountain pen from his pocket.

She took it, flipped to the last page, and signed her name.

Clean. Decisive.

She set the pen down without looking at him and walked toward the stairs. "See you in court tomorrow."