My Funeral, His Destruction Stage

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On the day my daughter turned five, my husband Carter finally came home-with his mistress and a child who looked exactly like him.

He introduced me as the "mother of his child," not his wife, while my own parents fawned over his illegitimate daughter to secure a business merger.

I was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer, leaving me with months to live, yet no one cared.

The breaking point wasn't my illness, but seeing Carter slap our daughter across the face because she refused to give her first-place ribbon to his mistress's child.

"She disrespected me! I have a right to discipline my own daughter!"

He thinks I' m just a dying, discarded wife who will fade away quietly to make room for his new family.

He' s wrong.

I have three months left to live, and I' m going to spend every second of it burning his empire to the ground.

My funeral will be the stage for his destruction.

Chapter 1

Adelle POV

The day my daughter, Daisy, turned five, was the day my life shattered into a thousand pieces. I just didn' t know it yet. There was a dull throb behind my eyes, a constant companion these past few weeks, but I pushed it down. Today was for Daisy.

I glanced at my phone, the screen still dark. Carter. I had sent him a text hours ago, a simple request. "Daisy' s party starts at three. Please be here."

It was Daisy' s fifth birthday. And in a cruel twist of fate, it was also my forty-second. I hadn' t mentioned mine to anyone, not even to myself. It had been years since I expected any acknowledgment, any small gesture that said I mattered. My birthday had become just another date on the calendar, ignored, forgotten.

The phone vibrated. Hope flickered, then died. It was a weather alert. Not Carter.

Three o' clock came and went. Then three-thirty. Four.

Daisy, dressed in her favorite princess gown, kept running to the window, her tiny face pressed against the glass, eyes scanning the driveway. Each time, I felt a fresh stab of pain.

"Daddy will be here soon, sweetie," I' d say, my voice light, a lie I repeated until it tasted like ash.

My stomach twisted. He wasn't just late. He wasn't coming. I knew it in my bones. He always did this. Pushed the boundaries, broke the promises, then offered some flimsy excuse. But today, today felt different. My head throbbed, a drumbeat matching the frantic rhythm of my heart.

The anger was a slow burn, but beneath it, a crushing wave of despair. Was this my life? Chasing after a man who saw me as an inconvenience, a silent partner in a life he was actively trying to erase? I had dedicated years to building his empire, sacrificing my name, my talent, for his ambition. And for what? So he could disregard me, discard me?

The thought was a cold, hard stone in my chest. He wanted me gone. He wanted me replaced. The thought wasn't new, but today, it felt like a prophecy.

But Daisy. My beautiful, innocent Daisy. She deserved so much more than this hollow existence. She deserved a father who showed up, who loved her unconditionally. My heart squeezed. I would protect her, even if it meant tearing my own world apart.

"Mommy, is Daddy coming?" Daisy' s voice was small, wavering. Her lower lip trembled. The princess gown suddenly seemed too big, too bright for the storm clouds gathering in her eyes.

I knelt, pulling her close. "He might be very busy, sweetheart. But we have cake, and presents, and all your friends!" I forced a cheerful tone, plastering a smile on my face. It felt like my cheekbones would crack.

Suddenly, the front door burst open.

Daisy shrieked with delight. "Daddy!" She launched herself across the living room, a streak of pink tulle.

My heart leaped, a flicker of something I dared to call hope. He came. He actually came.

But then I saw her. Standing just behind Carter, a perfectly coiffed blonde woman with a forced smile, clutching the hand of a girl, no older than Daisy, who looked… exactly like Carter. The same sharp chin, the same intense eyes. My entire world tilted.

The blonde woman stepped forward, her voice saccharine sweet. "Oh, you must be Adelle. Carter' s… housekeeper?" Her eyes raked over my simple dress, then my bare ring finger, a cruel assessment.

Carter, standing beside her, didn' t correct her. He just looked at me, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Adelle is… the mother of my child," he said, his tone dismissive, as if I were a distant relative he barely remembered.

My breath caught in my throat. Housekeeper? Mother of his child? Not wife? The words hit me like a physical blow, each syllable a shard of ice splintering in my chest. I had given him everything – my youth, my designs, my very identity. And this was my reward? To be reduced to a footnote in his new narrative?

Daisy, sensing the shift, slowly walked back to me, her small hand finding mine, squeezing tight. Her eyes, wide and innocent, darted between Carter, the woman, and the other girl. Confusion clouded their depths.

I remembered the early days, how I had believed in him, believed in us. How I had poured my soul into his architectural firm, letting him take all the credit, convinced that our love was credit enough. How stupid I had been. A tool. A means to an end. That' s all I ever was to him.

A cold, hard resolve began to solidify within me. The pain was still there, a searing burn, but it was overlaid with something new, something sharper. Fury.

"Carter," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, though my hands trembled. "Perhaps you could pay your housekeeper, then. For years of… dedicated service." My eyes met his, daring him to deny it.

He bristled, his handsome face tightening. "Adelle, don' t start this. Not today."

"Oh, but today is the perfect day, isn' t it?" I smiled, a chilling, humorless curve of my lips. "It' s my birthday, after all. And my daughter' s. Don' t you think I deserve a little something extra for the occasion?" I paused. "And please, don' t insult me with a check. I prefer cash. Hard cash for hard labor."

He stared at me, his jaw clenched, then sighed dramatically. He pulled out his wallet, peeling off a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills. He practically threw them at me. The money fluttered to the floor, a stark contrast to Daisy' s fallen princess crown.

"What a pity," I said, not even glancing at the scattered notes. "And here I thought I was asking for something more… substantial. Something like respect. Or, perhaps, a simple acknowledgement of my worth."

The blonde woman, Fernanda, I now knew, finally found her voice. "Carter, who is this woman? And why is she making such a scene?" She glared at me, her eyes flashing with a possessive anger. "Get her out of here!"

My head snapped up, my gaze locking onto hers. "Out of my house? I' m Adelle Moon Preston. This is my home. And you, Fernanda Sharpe, are nothing but a glorified mistress, bringing your illegitimate child into my living room."

Fernanda' s face crumpled. The little girl clutched Fernanda' s leg, her eyes wide with sudden terror.

Carter' s face went crimson. "Adelle, that' s enough!" he roared, his hand raised as if to strike me.

I didn' t flinch. I just tightened my grip on Daisy' s hand. "It' s enough when I say it' s enough, Carter. You can have your little mistress, you can have your little bastard child, but you will not do it under my roof. Get out. Both of you. Now."