Our son, Scott Gould, and Ivanna Newman were both excited at the sight of the divorce certificate. 

Scott eyed the divorce certificate like it was some new toy and said, “This is great, Ivanna. Now you can finally be with Dad.” 

After saying that, he realized that it sounded inappropriate. Quickly covering his mouth, he glanced at me nervously. 

Theodore, noticing this, squeezed my hand and comforted me, “You will always be my wife. That won’t change.” 

Ivanna’s eyes reddened, and she said shyly, “I’ve put you in a tough spot, Janice. You both had to go through all this to fulfill my wish, even at this age.” 

I didn’t say anything. 

When Ivanna didn’t receive any words of blessing from me, she made a great show of wanting to head back into the courthouse with Theodore and me in tow. 

She said sadly, “Janice must be angry at me. Go back inside and annul your divorce. I don’t wish to ruin your family.” 

Theodore and Scott hurried to comfort Ivanna. 

Scott dragged me with all his might to make me stand in front of Ivanna. He tugged on my hand so hard that I nearly fell. 

He demanded, “Mom, hurry and apologize to Ivanna. Tell her you’re okay with it.” 

I rubbed my wrist, which was hurting from his grip, and asked him, “Now will you agree to be good and undergo your treatments?” 

Scott’s face paled momentarily before he nodded. 

I said nothing more and simply turned around to hail a cab. 

Scott tugged my hand lightly. “Mom, are you mad at me? I just thought Ivanna was pitiful because she waited for Dad all these years. I wanted to fulfill their wish.” 

I didn’t respond and just tightened his coat around him. “The weather’s getting cold. Take care of yourself.” 

Then, I turned and got in the car. 

As I got in, I vaguely heard Theodore call out, “Janice, come home with us.” 

I slammed the car door shut with force, shutting out Theodore’s voice along with it. 

Home? From the moment I learned about their plan, there was no home for me anymore. 

The small, quiet space inside the car gave me a bit of comfort. After I told the driver the address, he kept mum and started driving. 

Emotions I’d been holding back began to surface. I tried to rein them in, but silent tears slid down my cheeks. 

My mind drifted back to that day. 

After I agreed to divorce Theodore at Scott’s request, the latter finally agreed to undergo treatment. I had made him some soup and brought it to the hospital. 

When I reached the door, I heard Scott’s mocking voice. “Mom is so easy to fool. I just said I was sick, and she agreed to everything.” 

I froze. I’d always known Scott to be considerate and sweet. How could he say something like that? 

While I was reeling in shock, another voice said, “Thank you, Scott. Otherwise, I would never get to fulfill my lifelong wish.” 

The person who had spoken was my husband’s childhood sweetheart, Ivanna. 

Scott consoled her. “It’s no biggie, Ivanna. You watched me grow up and waited by my dad’s side for so many years. This is something I should do.” 

Theodore said, “Once we get married, the three of us can celebrate properly.” 

“Absolutely!” Scott and Ivanna cheered. 

Inside the room, the atmosphere was joyful and full of laughter. 

But outside the door, I covered my mouth to force down the shock and pain as I quietly left the hospital. 

I poured the soup I had painstakingly prepared down the toilet. 

As I looked at the floating oil and thought about what Theodore and Scott had said, a wave of nausea overwhelmed me. I clung to the toilet and vomited so hard that I felt the world spinning, yet not a single tear came. 

Since the moment Scott said he was sick, I had been running back and forth between the office and the hospital. To raise money, I borrowed from everyone I could. 

To ensure he would cooperate and get all the treatment he needed, I even agreed to his request that I divorce Theodore because he felt sorry for Ivanna. 

In the end, it had all been a carefully orchestrated lie. 

The vibration of my phone snapped me back to reality. I picked it up to see that it was a message from my best friend, Lily Lowe. 

She wrote, “Was the 100,000 dollars I transferred to you earlier enough? If it’s not, I’ll try borrowing more. What did the doctor say about Scott’s illness?” 

I transferred the money back to her and texted back, “It’s fine. Scott isn’t sick.” 

She replied with a “?” and followed it up with, “What do you mean?” 

I couldn’t for the life of me summon any strength to reply to her text. I curled up in the back seat, feeling awful and depressed. 

Lily called me. 

I answered in a panic, only to hear a man’s voice that somehow sounded strangely familiar. 

“Where are you? We’ll come to you.”