Chapter: 9 The reply came quickly. "It's what you deserve. You've written a lot of hits over the years. Why don't you return? There's a new show coming up. It fits you perfectly. I've sent details to your email. Reserved a contestant slot just for you."Millie opened her email. A new message sat at the top, inviting her to join a music competition show. The format was familiar, like others she had seen before, but this one wanted something original. She typed out a quick reply. "I'll think about it."Then she set her phone down. A light cramp curled in her lower belly. She thought of her father again. The second time today. Meanwhile, the Internet was buzzing with updates. #VivianSimpsonStomachCancer #FloristVivianSimpsonCountdown #LastSixMonths.. The most trending post was a video featuring a reporter summarizing the news about Vivian. "Sources confirm that the well-known floral designer, Vivian Simpson, has been diagnosed with stomach cancer. She's been given six months to live. But instead of retreating, she's choosing to document her remaining timeshe wants to share her life with the world as it winds down."The video cut to Vivian. She looked at the camera with a sad smile. "In these last six months, I'll be posting updates about my life. I'm not doing it for attention. just want to offer some comfort to others going through the same thing. hope you all stay strong."Then the reporter came back on screen. "There have long been whispers about Miss Simpson and Mr. Brandon Watson, CEO of Watson Group. But Mr. Watson is married. It remains to be seen if he'll reconnect with Miss Simpson during her final months.".m.cmIn the background, Vivian seemed to have heard that part. She stepped forward, stopped beside the reporter, and gently cut in. She faced the camera."Im not ashamed to say like Brandon. He's an incredible man," she said. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels that way. But want to make it clearI'm not going to break up someone's marriage. That's not who am." Having said that, she walked off, leaving the reporter behind. She wove through the small crowd with a smile and climbed into a waiting car. The foreign caregiver from Flaville passed her a glass of water, hand paused in midair, unsure."You look like you want to say something," Vivian said, her voice cold. "Go ahead. The driver's one of ours."The caregiver leaned in and lowered their voice. "Miss Simpson, your diagnosis... it's a stomach ulcer. Having our facility change that into cancer is already risky. But now you're sharing it with the public online?"Vivian gave a sharp laugh, startling the caregiver."Your facilityis it a licensed medical facility?" she asked. The caregiver nodded."And does it manage my medical record privately?"The caregiver gave another nod."Is that what my medical record saysthat have six months left because of terminal stomach cancer?"The caregiver hesitated before nodding again...c"Exactly!" Vivian leaned back with a smile. "It's official, then. No one can question it.""But you don't actually have stomach cancer. What happens later..."w.l.