Chapter 4Better to Part Like Strangers

Back at the Blackwood mansion, Declan was a storm of restless energy.

Ever since I’d left, an unbearable agitation had taken root in his heart. He locked himself in his study, smashing priceless vases against the wall. When Tiffany tried to coax him out, he threw her out of the room without a second thought.

He didn't know what was wrong with him.

Something felt profoundly, fundamentally wrong, but a part of him refused to examine it too closely. He had built his entire reality on a single, unwavering belief: I was a greedy, heartless woman who had stolen his fortune and caused his mother's death.

Then he remembered his assistant had organized some old files from that year. He decided to find them, to look at the proof one last time, to solidify his hatred and kill this gnawing uncertainty for good.

He searched for what felt like hours before finally locating the correct file. But as he read through the documents—bank transfers, hospital invoices, pharmacy receipts—a cold dread began to creep into his veins. It felt like the very foundation of his world was cracking beneath his feet.

Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed his car keys and sped to the city hospital.

He burst into the office of his mother’s former physician. "Tell me what really happened when my mother was sick," he demanded. "Sarah… did she use the money from selling my assets to pay for my mother's treatment?"

The doctor looked at Declan, his expression one of pure confusion.

"Mr. Blackwood, why are you asking this? Surely you knew how dire your mother's condition was? She was in the final stages. She could have been gone at any moment. It was your wife, Ms. Sarah, who fought to give her more time. She sold everything she could."

The doctor continued, his voice softening. "I saw her once, in the hospital corridor, eating a dry piece of bread. She was just sitting there, chewing and crying silently. When I asked what was wrong, she just shook her head and said she felt like she'd failed your mother, that she couldn't make her well again."

"Every single dollar from those sales was wired directly to the hospital's account to cover medical fees and surgical procedures. As her primary physician, I saw every transaction. If it weren't for her, your mother would never have held on long enough for you to come back. She would have been gone months earlier."

"Mr. Blackwood, your wife sacrificed everything for your mother, for your family. How could you not know? How could you ever doubt her?"

Declan stood frozen, his body rigid, his mind a roaring void.

The facts he had clung to, the reasons for his burning hatred, had all just turned to ash.

The doctor was still speaking, but the words were a meaningless buzz in Declan's ears. The world tilted, black spots dancing in his vision.

After a long silence, he finally managed to force out a question, his voice a ragged whisper. "Doctor… Sarah… how is she now? Her health?"

The doctor’s face fell. He shook his head and let out a heavy sigh.

"Ms. Sarah came in for a check-up a while ago. It's late-stage lung cancer, Mr. Blackwood. She doesn't have much time left."

"She said she didn't want treatment. She just wants to live out her final days in peace."