Savannah’s son only had arrhythmia and didn’t need a heart transplant. Sydney’s son, without that heart, could only die on the cold operating table!
Her nails dug into her flesh, blood dripping from her fingertips, yet she felt no pain.
Her body seemed torn apart. The hotel had the air conditioning on, but she felt freezing all over.
Just then, the memories of the past three years surged up.
No wonder. No wonder Preston had abandoned her and Julien for overseas business trips, sometimes lasting weeks. Chicago—Savannah’s child—was actually Preston’s son!
When did it start?
The first time—when she had given birth to Julien and hemorrhaged. The situation was critical and needed a family member’s consent. The hospital called Preston, but he hadn’t answered. She gritted her teeth and signed the consent form herself, and only then did the hospital operate on her.
The second time—Julien’s birthday, and they had planned to go to an amusement park together as a family of three. She waited all evening with Julien, who cried himself to sleep. Preston never showed.
The third time—Julien suffered a sudden cardiac arrest. Sydney had called frantically outside the operating room. But Preston’s assistant just gave a brutal response.
“Mr. Rockefeller is in a meeting. Handle it yourself.”
She had always excused Preston’s absences, thinking he was just busy with work.
It turned out that every single time, he had been with Savannah and their child!
Sydney’s lips split, and blood filled her mouth. Her chest ached so fiercely she could barely breathe.
Her own husband had actually tricked her into signing the heart transfer agreement—forcing her to give up Julien’s only chance at life. How could Preston be so fucking cruel?
The intimate sounds continued in the video. Her stomach turned violently. She felt sick to her core.
The man she had loved for three years had killed her son.
Sydney’s resolve hardened. She dialed a number she had not contacted in five years.
“Brooks, fine, let’s get married. Come for me in a week. I’ll handle the divorce.”
A deep and familiar voice came from the phone.
“Finally, Sydney, you see it clearly. Preston doesn’t deserve you. Come back ASAP. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Sydney nose stung. She swallowed back a sob, explaining, “He killed Julien. I want Preston to pay for that!”
On the other end, Brooks Stryker’s voice carried a cold edge.