Early the next morning.

Elodie got ready quickly and headed straight to the hospital.

She had a full day ahead.

In the morning, she’d be undergoing chemotherapy and finalizing her divorce. In the afternoon, she’d arranged to meet Joseph, who was bringing along his doctor friend.

Her first round of chemo was scheduled for 8:30.

Before that, she stopped in to see her primary physician.

She needed to confirm the details of her surgical treatment plan.

When the doctor saw Elodie, she couldn’t help but frown, glancing down at Elodie’s chart with a sigh. “Just turned twenty-five… so young. The uterus is so important for a woman. I really hope you’ll think this through carefully.”

She was clearly reluctant for someone so young to undergo a hysterectomy.

Most women Elodie’s age hadn’t even married or thought about children yet. What a waste, the doctor thought.

But Elodie understood the compassion behind her words. She managed a gentle smile. “It’s alright. I’ve made up my mind.”

The doctor hesitated, then asked, “Are you married?”

Elodie lowered her gaze, rubbing her cold fingers before answering with a faint smile, “I’m getting divorced today.”

The doctor paused, surprised.

A complicated pity flickered in her eyes.

Divorce and a hysterectomy-these things rarely happened by chance.

She could guess the story: the illness, the inability to have children… Was that why Elodie’s husband wanted out?

The doctor sighed inwardly, saddened by human nature.

She went over the details of the treatment plan with Elodie, including the uncertainty of recovery after three rounds of chemo and a full hysterectomy. Success was far from guaranteed-right now, the odds of a successful surgery were only forty percent.

Elodie took it all in stride.

She asked, “Will the chemo make my hair fall out?”

That was the one thing she was worried about. If it was obvious, she wouldn’t be able to hide it.

The doctor shook her head, reassuring her. “It’s not a given. It depends on the medication we use. Try not to worry.”

Elodie finally felt a bit more at ease.

“Could you please write out the treatment plan for me?”

The doctor nodded and prepared the detailed plan for her.

Elodie glanced over it-three rounds of chemotherapy, then a full hysterectomy in two months.

She tucked the paperwork into her bag and made her way to the oncology wing. At this hour, she was the first patient in.

Elodie braced herself, took a few deep breaths, and walked in with determination.

The session lasted about twenty minutes.

Before starting, the doctor had told her the side effects for the first two rounds wouldn’t be too severe. Still, Elodie was left weak and nauseated, vomiting several times until her stomach was empty and only sour bile remained.

Even the nurse looked sympathetic. “No family with you?”

Elodie wiped the cold sweat from her brow, immune to the question by now. “It’s fine.”

She allowed herself twenty minutes to recover.

Then she freshened up, fixed her makeup, and headed straight to city hall.

It was 9:50 when she reached the intersection.

As she arrived, she immediately noticed a black Mercedes parked across the street in the shopping district lot—its custom plates unmistakable.

Jarrod’s car.

He was here early, for once.

Elodie understood why. Today, their marriage would finally be dissolved. Of course Jarrod would be eager to get it over with.

She started to look away-then caught sight of Keith approaching from down the street, carrying a familiar brown paper coffee bag. He didn’t see Elodie, hurrying straight to the back seat and opening the car door.

A slender, manicured hand reached out from inside to take the coffee.

Sylvie was in Jarrod’s car.

Even today, the day they were finalizing the divorce, Jarrod had brought Sylvie along. Did he want her to witness the end of his marriage firsthand, just to put her mind at ease?

Elodie understood the message all too well and shook her head with a wry smile. She gathered her thoughts and walked into the building alone.

There weren’t many people there today; the vast lobby felt quiet and almost empty.

She quickly spotted Jarrod sitting in the front row, eyes fixed on the scrolling names on a giant screen.

Beside him sat a man in a sharp suit-Albin, the big-shot lawyer cousin of Maurice.

Elodie hesitated for a moment, then walked over.

Jarrod saw her approach. He still looked unwell, his arm in a stiff brace, his normally pale face even more drained of color.

“Sit,” Jarrod said, glancing sideways at Elodie.

But when their eyes met, he paused, noticing the sickly pallor of her face. He

couldn’t help but ask, “You feeling alright?”

Elodie greeted Albin before she sat down.

“Albin, you’re here for…?” She ignored Jarrod’s question entirely, turning instead

to Albin. She had no interest in making polite small talk about Jarrod’s injury.

Albin gave a courteous smile. “Ms. Thorne, I’m here to help draft a new settlement agreement. The city clerk’s office rejected the last one we signed-some of the clauses need to be revised and clarified. Could I trouble you to take a look?”