Gloria Fox

The day I was diagnosed with leukemia was the same day I discovered my husband of five years was having an affair.
His mistress had deliberately taunted me, leaving a torn piece of sexy lace underwear on my bed... clear evidence of just how intense their lovemaking had been.
But when he slept with me, it was only ever about having a child. "Don't think I'll ever love you," he'd told me coldly. "You're just a tool I purchased to give me children."
I signed the divorce papers and left without taking a penny of his fortune.
When he received notice that my condition was critical, he couldn't care less—convinced it was just some trick I was playing.
But when I actually died, something changed at my funeral. Richard became unhinged, falling to his knees beside my casket.
"No, this can't be real... right?" he sobbed, his composure shattered. "Margaret, I can't lose you! Please... come back..."