My Wife Traded Me For Her Lover, So I Traded My Cancer For His Body

On the day I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I caught my wife cheating on me with a young boytoy while assetstripping my company.

Just as I was about to confront the cheating bastards, a SoulSwap System suddenly bound to me. The system allowed me to swap bodies with any male target at any time.

Watching my wife cling to her little boytoy, I smiled. From then on, she wanted a car? Bought. Money? Transferred. My company? Signed over. She thought she was bleeding me dry.

In reality, she was digging her own grave. I willingly helped her transfer every single dollar and signed off on every debt in her name.

Once she drained my very last drop and prepared to run away with her lover... I closed my eyes and activated the body swap. The fortune is mine.

The cancer is his! “Ethan, Mia invited me to the waterfront boardwalk to take some photos.

She says there's a new trendy Instagram spot there.” My wife, Chloe, was dressed to the nines today. She stood in front of the mirror, reapplying her lipstick over and over.

I nodded, not thinking much of it. “Sure, babe, go ahead. After the photoshoot, you should hit the shopping district.

Do you have enough cash?” Chloe immediately pouted, walking over to wrap her arms around mine, swaying gently. “Well, I just bought the new iPhone, so I'm practically broke.

I can't even afford window shopping.” Her cute, puppydog act was exactly the same as when we were dating. Chloe was naturally gorgeous.

Whenever she acted sweet like this, my heart melted. I always fell for it. I pulled out my phone and smiled, Venmoing her three thousand dollars. “Let me know if you need more.

Have fun, and buy whatever you like.” “You're the best, Ethan! Love you!” Chloe stood on her tiptoes, planting a red lipstick mark on my cheek.

She grabbed her designer purse and clickedclacked out of the house in her heels. I wiped the lipstick off my cheek, a bitter taste lingering in my mouth.

We’d been married for five years. Even though my business kept me busy, I thought we were happy. She loved shopping and partying, and I spoiled her.

My logistics company was highly profitable, so I didn't mind. But she didn't know that my latest medical checkup had delivered a death sentence. Stagefour pancreatic cancer.

I had less than a year to live. At 2 PM, I drove toward the office. I wanted to use whatever time I had left to settle some business contracts.

The intersection ahead was completely blocked. I leaned out of my window. Police cars were redirecting traffic. Looks like a bad crash. This road was always busy.

A jam here meant at least a thirtyminute delay. I decided to Uturn and take a detour through the shopping district. While waiting at a red light, I idly glanced out the window.

With just one glance, my heart stopped. In front of the glass doors of the luxury mall across the street, a woman was posing for a photo.

White summer dress, black sheer tights, and a beaming smile. It was my wife, Chloe. But the person holding the phone wasn't her best friend, Mia. It was a young guy.

Buzzcut, wearing athletic clothes, with a muscular frame filling out his tight tshirt.

After he took a picture, Chloe jogged over to look at the screen, practically hanging off his arm.

They laughed and chatted, their bodies pressed intimately against each other. Honk! Honk! The light turned green, and the cars behind me started honking.

I snapped out of it, hit the gas, and quickly pulled over to the curb. In the rearview mirror, my face was expressionless, but my eyes were bloodshot.

I threw my suit jacket onto the passenger seat, grabbed a baseball cap from the trunk, and pulled it down low. Stepping out of the car, I quickly walked toward the mall.

Following them was easier than I thought. To keep them in sight without being spotted, I maintained a distance of about sixty feet.

They were too absorbed in each other to notice a man in a cap trailing behind. They went down to the basement food court first to grab iced lattes.

Chloe took a sip, then stood on her tiptoes to feed him from her straw. The man slid his hand around her waist, taking a long sip.

Their movements were effortless and practiced—just like a couple deeply in love. I clenched my fists, my eyes locking onto the cheating bastards.

After finishing their drinks, they took the escalator up to the movie theater on the fifth floor. I didn't buy a ticket. I could only watch them walk into the dark theater.

I leaned against a wall outside the ticket booth, keeping my eyes glued to the exit. The wait was agonizing.

I checked my phone countless times, but only two or three minutes had passed each time. I lost track of time. Finally, the doors opened, and they walked out.

My immediate reaction was that something was off. Chloe’s face was flushed, her hair was messy, and her summer dress looked crumpled. She was hastily smoothing down her skirt.

The man had a faint smudge of lipstick on his neck, and his tshirt was halfuntucked, as if he’d gotten dressed in a rush. As an experienced man, I knew exactly what that meant.

Watching a movie? They were probably hooking up in the back row. Rage surged to my brain. I clenched my fists and took a step forward, ready to tear them apart right then and there.

Right then, a mechanical voice exploded in my head. 【Ding! SoulSwap System successfully bound!】 【Host can swap identities with any male target at any time!】 What the hell?

An identity swap? I stared at the man’s back, a dark, brilliant spark igniting in my eyes.

Once I got home, I immediately went to work. I had spent years building my business from scratch.

You don't survive in the cutthroat logistics industry without making some serious connections. I knew people on both sides of the law.

I reached out directly to Marcus Cole, the best private investigator in the city.

He was exmilitary and an excop who got kicked off the force for "bending the rules." Now, he ran a private agency.

While trailing Chloe, I had managed to snap a few clear photos of the guy. I slid the photos across the desk to Marcus. “Marcus, I need everything on this guy.

Money is no object, but I need it fast.” Marcus slipped the photos into his jacket pocket. “Don't worry, Ethan.

I’m on it.” With enough money on the line, Marcus worked at lightning speed. It took him less than a week. We met at a quiet, private lounge.

Marcus handed me a thick manila folder, looking at me with a touch of pity in his eyes. “I got it all, Ethan. The kid's name is Jax Mercer. Twentyseven, unemployed.

He lives in Apartment 1203 at the Grand Plaza. The files and photos are all inside. See for yourself.” I nodded, gesturing for him to take a sip of his drink.

The envelope was thick. I untied the string and pulled out the first stack of photos. The first photo showed Chloe walking into a boutique hotel with Jax, arm in arm.

The timestamp read 3:00 PM. The second was Chloe putting sunscreen on a shirtless Jax by a luxury pool. She was wearing a tiny bikini I’d never seen before.

The third was Chloe passionately kissing Jax in her car, parked on a secluded dirt road, the windows halfrolled down.

I silently flipped through the photos, the veins in my temples throbbing violently. “Fucking bastard!” I couldn't help it. I slammed my hand on the table, cursing out loud.

Marcus remained quiet, pouring me a glass of water. I never expected Chloe, who acted like a refined goddess in front of me, to play the sugar mommy to an unemployed bum.

But honestly, Jax was young, handsome, and fit. He was exactly the kind of eye candy women lusted after. I used to look good, too.

But years of building a business meant working eightyhour weeks and sacrificing my health. I had gained weight, my skin looked exhausted, and my energy was depleted.

Regulating my breathing, I set the photos aside and continued reading the files. Jax Mercer, twentyseven. High school dropout.

Worked briefly in sales, as a personal trainer, and as a club promoter. Currently living in Grand Plaza 1203, rent is $2,500 a month.

Drives a brandnew BMW 3Series he got last year. His bank statements were attached. He hadn't held a job in over a year, yet his spending was lavish.

VIP tables at clubs almost every night, dinners at highend restaurants, and a wardrobe full of designer streetwear. Where did an unemployed guy get that kind of money?

The answer lay in Chloe’s bank statements. Her transaction history over the past two years was staggering. The transfers to Jax were painfully clear.

Some were a few thousand dollars, some were tens of thousands. The largest single transfer was last June—a whopping fifty thousand dollars.

Some of that money came from the allowance I gave her for clothes and bags. Some of it was cash she begged for, claiming she was investing in index funds.

The rest was capital I gave her to keep her boutique afloat. No wonder her spending had skyrocketed. I thought she was just getting used to a luxury lifestyle.

In reality, my hardearned money was funding her pretty boy's lifestyle. “Ethan, take a look at this,” Marcus said, pulling a final sheet of paper from the very bottom of the folder. “It took some major strings to pull this record.” I took it.

It was a business registration certificate. “Mercer Enterprises LLC” Registered Agent: Jax Mercer. Incorporation Date: One year ago.

When I saw the shareholder column, my pupils contracted. Shareholder: Emerald Apparel LLC, owning 80% shares. Initial Capital Investment: One million dollars.

Emerald Apparel was Chloe's boutique. Seeing this, everything clicked. A year ago, Chloe told me her boutique was taking a massive hit due to market trends.

She claimed she’d lost major clients and profits were plummeting. She said she was restructuring her strategy and needed capital to rebuild. I had praised her ambition back then.

She wasn't struggling at all—she was funneling my money out of her business. She used my money to start a shell company, putting her lover's name on the deed.

Once she drained enough, she could merge Emerald Apparel into his shell company and run away with him and my money. And what about me?

I would have kept working myself to death, blindly giving her money, only to be discarded like trash when my bank accounts hit zero.

Taking a deep breath, I packed the photos and files back into the manila folder. “Great work, Marcus.

I’ll wire you the remaining balance right now.” Marcus nodded, hesitating for a moment. “Ethan, I’ve seen this play out a hundred times.

If you need any... creative solutions, let me know.” “No need,” I interrupted, slamming down my glass. “I’ll handle this myself.” With the SoulSwap System in my hands, why should I care if Chloe transferred my wealth?

I didn't even have to worry about my terminal cancer anymore!

“Babe, look at this!” Chloe shoved her phone in front of my face. On the screen, an influencer was bragging about her new luxury electric SUV’s selfparking feature.

The steering wheel spun on its own, sliding the car perfectly into a tight spot. “Look how smart these new EVs are! It parks itself!

You know how much I hate parallel parking, Ethan. It literally gives me anxiety.

Can we... buy one?” Chloe leaned against me, looking up with big, puppydog eyes, her voice sweet as sugar. I glanced at the screen. A Tesla Model X.

Even the base model would run at least eighty thousand dollars. I sneered internally. Quite an appetite. She must think I still have plenty of juice left to squeeze.

But honestly, this was exactly what I wanted. I set my phone down and nodded earnestly. “Sure, let's get you the best one.

I’ll have my accountant wire a hundred thousand to your account tomorrow. Let me know if you need more.” Chloe blinked, clearly surprised by how easily I agreed.

A second later, she squealed and leaped onto my lap, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck. “You are the absolute best, Ethan!

I love you so much!” “I’ll go draw a bath for you!” She jumped down and ran toward the bathroom, turning back halfway to blow me a kiss. “Tonight...

I’m going to give you a special reward. You can have whatever you want.” Her attempts at seduction disgusted me.

The moment I pictured her in that movie theater with Jax, a wave of nausea washed over me. I forced a weary expression. “The company’s been super stressful lately, babe.

I’m just too exhausted. I think I just want to crash.” “Oh, then I’ll give you a massage later.” Chloe didn’t think twice about it and hurried to turn on the bathwater.

In the weeks that followed, Chloe asked for money more frequently, her excuses growing wilder by the day. “Ethan, Ashley wants to put a down payment on a condo but she’s short on cash.

I promised to lend her twenty thousand.” “Ethan, you remember my cousin, Leo? He got mixed up with loan sharks and they're threatening him.

He needs thirty thousand to save his skin.” “Ethan, Grandpa Thomas had a heart scare. He needs surgery.

It's going to cost fifty thousand.” To every single request, my answer was simple: Yes. Two months later, our personal savings were completely dried out.

My company's liquid capital was almost depleted, too. But it wasn't enough. This amount was still far from what she needed to run away forever.

Besides, my body was running out of time. During those two months, alongside playing my part, I had to deal with the agonizing reality of my disease.

Stagefour pancreatic cancer is brutal. At first, it was a dull ache. Then it escalated into a stabbing agony that would wake me up screaming in the dead of night.

I would bite down on my pillow, drenched in cold sweat, refusing to make a sound so I wouldn’t alert Chloe sleeping in the guest room.

During my checkup, the oncologist frowned at the scans. “It’s spreading faster than we projected, Ethan...” In that case, I needed to speed things up for Chloe.

During dinner that night, I let out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “What’s wrong, Ethan?” Chloe asked with feigned concern.

There was a flicker of wariness in her eyes—she was probably terrified I would cut off her cash flow.

I put down my fork and sighed. “There’s a massive logistics contract on the table. To secure it, I need to leverage the company to secure a twomilliondollar loan. But it’s risky.

If it fails, the business goes bankrupt.” She remained silent, her mind spinning as she processed this. I grabbed her hand. “I was thinking... what if we get a strategic divorce?

We sign the papers, and I’ll transfer all the loan money to your personal accounts. If the business goes under, I’ll take the fall alone.

I hate to put you through a divorce, but it’s the only way to protect you.” Chloe froze.

She clearly hadn't expected me to hand her a massive fortune on a silver platter while taking on all the debt myself.

She desperately fought to suppress her grin, squeezing out a few tears instead. “Ethan, don’t say that.

Even if you lose everything, I will never leave your side.” I almost wanted to applaud her acting skills right there.

If I hadn't seen those photos or her bank transfers, I might have actually believed her. The paperwork went through incredibly fast.

Transferring the assets, securing the loan, changing corporate titles. I cooperated eagerly with every step, signing my name wherever needed.

Once the dust settled, Chloe’s attitude changed instantly. She started coming home late, her eyes growing cold whenever she looked at me.

Finally, one evening, she grabbed her purse and said casually, “Ethan, I’m going on a trip for a few days.” “Where to?” I asked, pretending to care.

Chloe blinked. “I’m not sure yet. Just going where the wind takes me.” My chest tightened with anticipation. I knew she was about to make her run. “Sure, babe.

Have fun.” The next morning, Chloe dragged her suitcase out of the house. The front door clicked shut. Her footsteps faded down the hall. The moment she left, I opened my eyes.

I closed my eyes and whispered in my mind: “System, activate identity swap. Target: Jax Mercer. SSN: XXXXXXXXX.”