Divorce the Dying Man
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Summary
My husband told me he was dying, and that he was twenty thousand dollars short for the surgery that could save his life.
To get him that money, I started singing at a high-end lounge downtown, performing until two in the morning every single night. I sang song after song, note after note, watching my savings crawl upward.
Until the night I was requested for a private set in a penthouse suite.
When I pushed open the heavy oak doors, the room was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and aged scotch. A group of men were laughing, and there, in the center of it all, was Joshua.
