To Please Her Secret Lover, She Let Our Son SufferChapter 1
My wife had spent every cent of our savings and even plunged us into debt, all to treat her father’s illness.
By day, I juggled three jobs. By night, I took my son along to collect junk, doing whatever it took just to scrape by.
Then, one evening, while delivering food to a luxury hotel, I caught sight of something that made my blood run cold. There she was, my wife, alongside her supposedly deceased father, smiling as they sang a birthday song to her first love’s son.
Envious chatter from the hotel staff drifted to my ears.
“President Lancaster really dotes on the young master. She booked the entire venue for his birthday; it must’ve cost hundreds of thousands!”
“Hundreds of thousands? That’s nothing! I heard she’s handing out gifts too, ten grand each!”
I stood frozen, staring blankly at the joyful scene unfolding in front of me, a picture-perfect family drenched in luxury.
No one there knew that her real son was lying in a hospital bed, burning up with fever.
He’d gone out in the rain to gather recyclables just to help ease his mom’s burden.
——
Even in that state, my son looked up at me, eyes dim but voice soft.
“Dad, don’t worry. I’ll be okay after a nap. Just don’t tell Mom, okay?”
I swallowed the bitterness clawing at my chest and gave a silent nod. After leaving the hospital, I tried calling Amara Lancaster, hoping, just hoping, she’d come to see our son.
But I never expected that she’d be unreachable because she’d been busy celebrating someone else’s child.
And the father-in-law we once believed was gravely ill, even declared dead, was now calling another man standing beside her “son-in-law.”
A coldness crept through me, sinking deep into my bones. I stepped aside, pulled out my phone again and dialed Amara’s number.
Still no answer.
Right then, the hotel manager marched over, his tone sharp and impatient. He snatched the delivery box from my hands and snapped.
“What took you so long? Keep this up and I’ll leave you a bad review!”
I quickly bowed and mumbled an apology. One bad review and a whole day’s effort would be for nothing.
Maybe it was my unshaven face or the exhaustion weighing down every step, but I must’ve looked truly pitiful at that moment.