Love Was No Match for Convention

The day my doctor told me I was dying because I couldn't afford to keep getting treatment, James Zane finally came home with his fiancée. He'd made a name for himself by then, and he was bringing her back to meet his family. When he saw me at the hospital, hobbling along on crutches and gasping for breath every few steps, he asked, "When you left me for $100,000 back then, did you ever think karma would catch up with you?" I looked at the mocking curl of his lips and gave a quiet laugh. "If I apologize and tell you how sorry I am, will you give me another five hundred thousand?" His expression changed instantly. The look in his eyes became impossible to read. Before he left, he said, "I'm getting married next month." I nodded. "Congratulations. But I won't be there." After all, I probably wouldn't live to see next month. Chapter 1 Yvonne's POV Less than ten minutes after James Zane left, a $100,000 transfer hit my personal account. The sender was anonymous, but I knew exactly who it was. I stared at the string of numbers for a long time, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. In the end, I used the money to pay my hospital bills, buying this battered body of mine a little more time. Once the paperwork was done, I dragged myself home. Calling it a home was generous. It was nothing more than a tiny rented studio, cramped and damp, with a single north-facing window that never saw sunlight. Much like my life. Ever since the choice I'd made five years ago, it seemed light had disappeared from it for good. I'd barely managed to lower myself onto the old couch, which creaked under my weight, when someone knocked on the door. The knock was soft, almost hesitant. I sighed. I could already guess who it was. Struggling back to my feet, I made my way to the door on my crutches. James's mother, Margaret Zane, stood outside, holding a basket of fruits and wearing a strained smile. "Yvonne, I came to see how you're doing." As she spoke, her gaze unconsciously swept over my shabby apartment and the crutches in my hands. Something complicated flickered through her eyes, so faint it was almost impossible to catch. Then it vanished beneath a calm that bordered on indifference. I stepped aside to let her in. "Mrs. Zane, what are you doing here?" She entered and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, as if she couldn't find anywhere suitable to sit. Only after I gestured toward the single wooden chair did she finally take a seat. Her back remained perfectly straight, as though that posture alone could separate her from the run-down surroundings. "Yvonne, I know I shouldn't have come to bother you." She took a deep breath, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. "But I really didn't have any other choice..." I watched her calmly, waiting for the words I had already expected. Seven years ago, she'd been exactly the same. I'd just received my diagnosis, and it felt as though my entire world had collapsed when she stormed into my hospital room without a thought for anything else. At the time, the Zane family was on the verge of bankruptcy after a disastrous investment. Everything they had was hanging by a thread. The only thing that could save them was an injection of capital from the Shaw family, another business powerhouse. There was just one condition: James had to marry Wendy Shaw, the family's only daughter. James had been fighting bitterly with his family over me. That was when Margaret dropped to her knees in front of me. "Yvonne, I'm begging you. Let James go! This is the Zane family's last chance. He can't only think about himself! "I know you and James love each other, but you're an orphan, and... and now you're like this..." Her eyes fell to the diagnosis in my hand. She didn't finish the sentence, but there was no need. "Please, Yvonne. Leave him. How much do you need for treatment? $100,000? $200,000? I'll give it to you! "Take the money and find some reason to break up with him. Make him give up on you. Let him go abroad and save the Zane family. Please." I'd only just found out I had cancer. My mind had gone blank, torn between overwhelming fear and the thought of losing James. But as I watched Margaret sob in front of me, almost bowing her head to the floor, I couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if James lost everything because of me and even dragged his entire family down with him. It tore me apart. I didn't take Margaret's money. But I signed the agreement she'd prepared, the fake document stating that I'd accepted money in exchange for leaving James willingly. Then I put on an act, making him believe I was greedy and had fallen for someone else. I could still remember the look in James's eyes that day, filled with shock, rage, and betrayal. He smashed the ceramic mug we'd made together, pointed at the door, and hoarsely told me to get out. Not long afterward, he gave in to his family's arrangements and went abroad with Wendy Shaw. And just like that, five years passed. Chapter 2 Margaret's voice pulled me out of my memories. "Yvonne, James came back with Wendy. They're planning to get married next month." I nodded. "I know. I ran into them at the hospital earlier." Panic flashed across Margaret's face. "What... what did James say to you?" "Nothing. He just congratulated me on getting what I deserved." My voice was flat. Margaret flushed, then went pale. She took a deep breath, as though she'd finally made up her mind. "Yvonne, I know I've wronged you." Her voice dropped. "But the Zane family never would have recovered these past five years without the Shaw family's support. "I came here today because I still need to ask you for something." At last, she got to the point. "James has never completely gotten over you. But he and Wendy have finally made it this far. The wedding can't afford any more complications. "If James finds out the truth about what happened back then, if he finds out you were actually sick when you left him, I'm afraid he..." She stopped short. There was a plea in her eyes, along with a faint hint of threat. "So could you try to stay away from James for a while? "Besides, with you in this condition, the doctors said you don't have much time left. Wouldn't it be better to stay home and rest?" My head snapped up. Margaret looked away. She pulled a thick envelope from her purse and pushed it toward me. "There's $20,000 in here. Take it. Consider it compensation from me." I stared at the envelope, my throat tightening. Five years ago, I hadn't taken her money. All I'd asked was that she help me hide my illness from James and let me bear it alone. Five years later, she was still trying to send me away with money, this time to make sure her son's marriage went smoothly and the Zane family remained stable. Maybe in her eyes, I had always been nothing more than an insignificant orphan girl who could be bought off. Suddenly, I felt exhausted. So exhausted I didn't even have the strength to force a smile. "Take the money back." My voice was dry. "James already gave me $100,000." Margaret froze. The look in her eyes grew even more complicated. There was surprise, but also relief. "That's good. James has always been softhearted." She paused. "Then... about what I said..." "Don't worry." I cut her off and looked out at the gray sky beyond the window. "I won't go looking for him. I won't interfere with his life, and I won't ruin his wedding." I paused. It took almost all my strength to keep my voice steady. "I wish him a happy marriage and a lifetime of happiness with Wendy." Margaret had gotten the promise she wanted, and the tension left her face. She offered a few more empty words of concern, then got up and left. The moment the door closed, all the strength seemed to drain out of me. I collapsed onto the couch. A violent wave of nausea rolled through my chest. I covered my mouth and rushed into the cramped bathroom, where I bent over the toilet and retched hard. Nothing came up. Only involuntary tears blurred my vision. The painkillers seemed to have worn off. That familiar gnawing pain began creeping through my bones again. I looked at the hollow-eyed, painfully thin woman in the mirror and forced a smile uglier than crying. Yvonne Young, look at you. This is your punishment. But if you had the chance to do it all over again, would you have made any other choice? There was no right answer. Chapter 3 The $100,000 was like a powerful anesthetic. It delayed death for a little while, but it couldn't change how this would end. I switched to better medication and went through two rounds of treatment. My condition seemed to improve, though only slightly. At least I could walk more than a few steps without gasping so hard it felt as if my chest might split open. My best friend, Yara York, came to see me with red-rimmed eyes. She said she'd asked around and found me an easy job. It was a receptionist position at an art gallery that paid $200 a day, paid at the end of each shift. I knew Yara was worried I wouldn't accept money from her directly. I also knew exactly what kind of shape I was in. So I agreed. I didn't want the last days of my life to consist of nothing but waiting to die. I needed the money, but even more than that, I needed something to keep my mind occupied. Something that would stop me from thinking about James and everything in the past that I could never go back to. But as I stood in the elegantly appointed gallery in an ill-fitting uniform and a face mask, enduring the pain and discomfort while directing guests, fate played another joke on me. James and Wendy arrived together, arm in arm. James was an invited VIP, and Wendy was there at his side as his fiancée. I lowered my head instinctively, hoping to disappear into the background. James recognized me immediately. Even with the mask covering my face, even with my back hunched, his gaze landed on me without hesitation. He left the people he'd been exchanging pleasantries with and walked straight toward me. Wendy, who still had her arm linked through his, followed with a look of surprise. "Yvonne Young?" James didn't speak loudly, but his voice carried clearly enough that the people around us fell silent. "What a small world." A mocking smile touched his lips. "What happened? You already blew through the $100,000? Now you have to work here for money?" The stares around me felt like needles. I clenched my hands until my nails dug deep into my palms. Wendy gently tugged at James's arm and said softly, "James, don't be like that. Maybe Ms. Young is going through something..." "Going through something?" James gave a cold laugh, his gaze sweeping over my pale, haggard face. "What kind of trouble could someone have after throwing away a relationship for money without a second thought? Whatever happened to her, she brought it on herself." He stepped closer, his tall frame looming over me and pressing down on me with an invisible weight. "Or did you know I'd be here today? Is that why you came here to wait for me? What is this, another attempt to play hard to get?" I looked at the face that was so familiar and yet somehow completely foreign, and at the undisguised hatred in his eyes. All at once, any explanation felt pointless. I drew a deep breath and tried to keep my voice steady. "Mr. Zane, you've misunderstood. I just work here. "If my presence is bothering you and your fiancée, I apologize." I lowered my head and tried to walk around them. Then Wendy suddenly let out a startled cry and pointed to a barely visible water stain on the hem of her dress. "My dress!" She frowned at me. "What kind of service is this?" James's expression darkened instantly. He snatched the soft cloth I'd been about to use to wipe the stain and threw it onto the floor. "Yvonne, do you hate seeing me happy that much? Do you really have to make trouble in front of my fiancée? "This is Wendy's favorite dress. It's a limited edition, and it costs hundreds of thousands of dollars." His eyes turned icy as he stared at me. "Can you afford to pay for it?" Every eye in the gallery turned toward us. The whispers around me buzzed like flies. "So she's Mr. Zane's ex-girlfriend? The one who dumped him for money..." "Wow. Look at her now. Guess that's karma." "And she even got Ms. Shaw's dress dirty. Let's see how she gets out of this one." I stood alone in the middle of it all, with no one on my side, like some kind of clown put on display. The strength was slowly draining out of my body, and my vision kept going dark around the edges. I knew I wasn't going to be able to stay on my feet much longer. Chapter 4 When I woke again, Yara was bustling around, taking care of me. Her voice was full of anger. "James doesn't know you're sick, does he? He thinks you really left him for money?" I stayed silent. "I knew it!" Yara looked at me in exasperation. "You two were so good together back then. Yvonne, why didn't you tell him the truth? "You went through so much for him, and now he's treating you like this—" "Yara." I cut her off, my voice hoarse. "What's done is done. Let it stay in the past." "But..." "No buts." I took a deep breath. "James and I ended a long time ago. He's doing well now. That's enough." "And that gives him the right to humiliate you?" Yara shot back. "Yvonne, you're such an idiot! You ruined yourself for him, and what about him? He's successful, with a beautiful fiancée by his side. How is that fair?" "Because of the choice I made back then," I said softly. "I chose this path myself, so the consequences are mine to bear." Yara fell silent for a long time before finally saying, "Yvonne, why do you have to put yourself through this?" "I'm not." I stared at the water stains mottling the ceiling. "I'm just accepting reality." After Yara left, the apartment fell silent again. Her words were like a stone dropped into a lake, sending ripples through my heart. But before long, everything settled again. Tell James the truth? And then what? Let him find out that his mother once got down on her knees and begged me to leave him? Let him find out that he'd misunderstood me when I was at my weakest? Make him suffer, drown in guilt, and be torn between impossible choices? No. I'd already ruined our past. I couldn't ruin his present and his future too. I would take this heavy truth to the grave with me. The sky gradually darkened. I struggled to my feet, intending to pour myself a glass of water. A wave of dizziness hit me, and I suddenly started coughing. I covered my mouth as the coughs tore through my chest. When I opened my hand, bright red blood filled my palm. I'd coughed up blood. My condition was getting worse again. I stared at the red stain and, strangely, felt a sense of relief. Evidently, even one final month had been too much to hope for. After that, I stayed in my rented apartment as much as possible and rarely went out. My condition came and went. On good days, I could make myself some oatmeal. On bad days, I couldn't even get out of bed. I didn't look for another job. After what happened at the gallery, I'd lost the courage to face the outside world again. Yara came to see me often. She brought food and helped clean the apartment. She stopped trying to convince me to seek treatment. She simply stayed with me and watched as I grew thinner day by day. Sometimes she would hold me and cry, telling me I was a fool. I would only pat her back and say nothing. One afternoon, I was sleeping fitfully when another knock at the door woke me. This time, the knocking was sharp and forceful. For some reason, my heart tightened. A bad feeling came over me. I struggled over to the door and looked through the peephole. James was standing outside. He wore a perfectly tailored black coat, his expression dark and grim. How had he found this place? I instinctively stepped back, holding my breath and not daring to make a sound. "Yvonne Young, I know you're in there." James's voice came through the door, cold and restrained. "Open the door."