The Last Christmas Eve

Snow dusted the windowpane while the medical report lay locked away in a dark drawer. Cordelia Vance was dying of late-stage bone cancer, and she hadn't breathed a word of the diagnosis to anyone—not even her husband, Gideon Drexel.

On Christmas Eve, she dialed his number and pressed the phone to her ear. "Gideon, try to get home early tonight."

Before he could reply, a frantic male voice cut through the background noise on the other end. "Mr. Drexel, Mallory is having an asthma attack! She left her inhaler at home!" It was Declan Mercer, Gideon's assistant.

"Something urgent just came up at the office, and I have to deal with it right now. I'm hanging up," Gideon said, his voice dropping low before the line went dead. His mind was already elsewhere, leaving zero room for whatever his wife might be feeling.

Standing alone in the quiet house, Cordelia pulled in a slow, steadying breath. Hot tears splashed onto the back of her hand, yet she kept her chin lifted, stubbornly refusing to bow her head and let the grief win.

Tonight was Christmas Eve, and Gideon had given her his word that they would spend it together.

With the cancer eating away at her bones, she had no idea how many holidays she had left. For all she knew, this December night would be her very last.

Even so, Gideon had broken his promise without a second thought.

Cordelia sat by the dining table as the hours dragged on, keeping vigil in the empty room until dawn began to creep in.

All she wanted was for her phone to ring—just to hear his voice on the line wishing her a merry Christmas.

The call never came. Instead, while scrolling through her phone, an Instagram update from Mallory Blaine caught her eye.

The picture showed the interior of a luxury hotel room, and the caption underneath was pointedly tied to the holiday: [Spending Christmas Eve with you is my greatest blessing. Here's to having you by my side every year from now on.]

Mallory wasn't just Gideon's ex-girlfriend; she was his very first love. In his heart, she remained that untouchable, pure girl no other woman could ever hope to replace.

Throughout the four years of their marriage, Cordelia had never once doubted her husband's loyalty.

On the surface, Gideon checked every single box—strikingly handsome, backed by family wealth, and attentive enough to pass as the ideal partner.

To everyone looking in from the outside, Cordelia had hit the jackpot by meeting a man like him on a blind date and locking down a whirlwind marriage right after.

Even her stepmother, Vivienne Vance, had remarked more than once that Cordelia must have saved a whole galaxy in her past life to land such a match.

For a long time, Cordelia had believed it too. She used to think all the hardship she had endured growing up was just the universe's way of paving the road that led her to Gideon.

He played the part of the flawless husband so well that falling head over heels for him had been effortless.

The very day after their blind date, Gideon had asked her to marry him and laid his cards on the table. He told her she met every criterion he wanted in a wife, adding only one firm condition: he disliked kids and had no intention of ever starting a family with her.

Back then, she hadn't thought twice about that stipulation. Only now, looking back at the wreckage, did she grasp the bitter truth that the woman a man marries and the woman he actually loves can be two entirely different people.

Not long ago, Gideon had come home wasted after a business dinner. Around Cordelia, he was always composed and buttoned-up, never losing control, yet that night he had murmured another woman's name in his drunken haze.

"Mallory..."

That single word had changed everything.

After four years as his wife, doubt took root in Cordelia's mind for the very first time. When she waited for him to fall asleep and went through his phone, she realized just how blind and foolish she had been all along.

Tucked away inside his photo gallery was a hidden folder packed exclusively with pictures and videos of Mallory from their younger days.

The two of them had gone to the same university, dating from their freshman year all the way through graduation—four whole years together.

When Mallory abruptly left the country to study abroad, a furious and bitter Gideon had agreed to a blind date out of pure spite, rushing to put a ring on Cordelia's finger.

It read like the plot of some dramatic romance novel, except Cordelia wasn't the leading lady.

In the story of Gideon's life, there had only ever been one heroine, and that spot belonged permanently to Mallory.

A sharp chime broke the silence in the dining room as a WhatsApp notification lit up Cordelia's screen.

She tapped the message open, and the moment her eyes registered what was inside, her fingers went slack. The water glass she was holding slipped from her hand, hitting the hardwood floor with a loud crash and exploding into shards.

The text was from Mallory, attached to an intimate photo of her and Gideon tangled together in a hotel bed: [I'm sorry about this, Cora, but Gideon and I are in love. Being apart for four years didn't change how we feel about each other. Why don't you step aside and let us be? It's better for everyone if you walk away with your pride intact.]

It wasn't an apology; it was a calculated strike meant to push her over the edge.