Everett’s POV
Late at night, Green-Lake Villa.
The villa was dead quiet.
In the dimly lit living room, I sat alone on the couch, staring blankly at the medical report on the coffee table.
No lights were on. Only a sliver of moonlight slipped through the glass window, casting a pale glow on the paper.
My face was half-shadowed, my eyes locked onto the one line that refused to blur, no matter how much I wished it would.
Stage IV. Stomach cancer.
Scarlett Taylor had cancer?
I let out a dry, almost bitter laugh and dragged a hand over my face, covering my eyes.
No way.
I wasn’t buying it.
She had to be playing games again.
In three years of marriage, I had barely seen her catch a cold. She was only twenty-three. How could she possibly have cancer?
This
