Seeing that even now he refused to tell the truth, I smiled bitterly. I had to admit—he was even more shameless than I'd imagined.
Thunder crashed outside, nearly splitting the sky in two. Wind howled like a ghost coming to collect its due.
"Do you want me to help you remember?"
"The day Ethan had his accident—where were you?"
His gaze flickered. He stayed silent.
The last sliver of light in my heart shattered.
I pulled out the developed photos and hurled them at his face. The sharp edge sliced his cheek, blood dripping onto the images—but it couldn't obscure the date, or the picture of him leading a woman out of this house while I followed an ambulance away. All those times he'd claimed to be on business trips.
The reason Ethan had his accident that day was because Alex used my time at the hospital caring for my father to bring his lover into our bedroom.
It wasn't his first time cheating. But it had the worst consequences.
He'd given all the maids looking after Ethan the day off. To keep my son from crying and ruining the mood, he casually bought French fries to stuff in his mouth.
Our child was allergic to potatoes. The doctor had warned us from day one. I reminded everyone daily.
That day, when I rushed home to save him—
Alex was upstairs, holding the terrified woman, watching me break down. Watching me blame myself.
Only after I'd taken Ethan to the hospital did he come downstairs, destroy all the evidence, and bribe the media to denounce me. Making me believe I was a murderer.
Then he showed up in public, playing the husband who'd rushed back from his business trip.
Red-eyed savior. Kneeling, pulling me into his arms, kissing me over and over. Telling me it was an accident. That it wasn't my fault.
For six months, he never said a harsh word. Never blamed me once.
Several times I caught him getting up at night, punching the bathroom mirror until glass shattered everywhere and his fists were a bloody mess. Under my horrified gaze, he'd turn back, hold me—trembling, gentle.
Even now, I can't tell if he was tormented by guilt or performing to keep me bound.
He thought I'd never learn the truth.
A hundred times the liquidated damages as leverage—but he forgot that no wall is airtight.
"Alex. That was our child. Do you even have a heart?"
"So what? Tell everyone he died because I was cheating? What about the company—you want to tank our stock?"