During the summer break, my husband, Rio Hayes, and I took our son, Amos, overseas for a horse show.

On the eve of the event, chaos erupted when a dozen horses unexpectedly stampeded towards the crowd. In my desperate attempt to shield Amos, I was knocked down, coughing up blood uncontrollably. Rio and the horse trainer managed to regain control and rushed me to the hospital immediately.

Amidst my pain, I insisted he prioritize saving our son. But he held my hand, his voice steady as he informed me that Amos was already in the operating room.

When I regained consciousness, before I could ask about Amos's condition, I overheard Rio and his bodyguard conversing in German.

"Mr. Hayes, young master Amos didn't make it. But why did you intentionally create chaos to provoke the horses and endanger your own son?"

Rio responded with a cold laugh.

"Amos was a threat to Callahan, my son with Theodora! I've already disrespected Theodora enough; I need to ensure everything in the Hayes family belongs to our son, Callahan."

Silent tears slid down my cheeks. Amos, who idolized his father, had been betrayed. If that’s how it is, then I’ll simply remove myself from this equation.

---

The bodyguard, Karim, glanced at me with some sympathy as I lay in the hospital bed. Lowering his voice, he asked, "Mr. Hayes, Mrs. Montgomery loves young Amos dearly. If she learns of his passing, she won't bear it. Should I arrange for a counseling session for her?"

Rio scoffed dismissively, "Why waste money on that? All my resources are for Callahan. Just take Amos's clothes off; if she wakes and asks to see him, give her the clothes."

Despite Karim's reluctance, he left to carry out the orders.

I tried to steady myself, processing this unbearable truth. Amos’s eagerly anticipated summer trip had turned into a harbinger of his demise. Rio, you truly are heartless.

The door opened again as Dr. Jordan Morrison entered to check on me. He informed Rio, "Mr. Hayes, her vitals are stable. She can be discharged and recover at home once she wakes."

Rio nodded and added, "Before she wakes, let’s fit her with a birth control implant."

Dr. Morrison hesitated but called for nurses to move me onto a gurney. Clutching my clothes tightly, I couldn’t hold back any longer and opened my eyes.

Rio’s brows furrowed momentarily, but he quickly masked his expression with one of guilty concern. Holding my hand, he said with misty eyes, "Honey, the doctor just told me that your internal injuries require another surgery. Don’t be afraid; I’ll wait outside for you."

Without giving me a chance to speak, he instructed the doctor to proceed with the surgery.

As we approached the operating room, he abruptly halted the doctor. I thought he had reconsidered, but instead, he issued a chilling command in German: "Forget the implant; remove her womb entirely, for convenience."

The last shred of hope I had for him shattered completely, and I resigned myself to my fate by closing my eyes.

Rio seemed to have forgotten my teenage obsession with a German pop band, which had driven me to learn German. While not fully fluent, I understood most of what was said.

Under anesthesia, the operation proceeded seamlessly. When I awoke, I found myself back in the room. Pain radiated from my wound, leaving me drenched in a cold sweat.

Rio was seated beside me, working on documents but set them aside once he saw I had awakened. Leaning over, he feigned concern, "Honey, you’re finally awake. You’ve been in a coma for three days, you frightened me so."

His eyes glistened with tears, his tone so convincingly compassionate that I felt momentarily disoriented.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a bloodstained riding jacket on the bedside table, leaving me paralyzed with shock. Trembling, I picked it up. Knowing Amos was gone was one thing, but seeing his belongings made my heart wrench with unbearable pain.

Holding me close, Rio choked out, "Honey, Amos's injuries were too severe. He’s left us, but you must stay strong. I’ll always be here with you."

The riding outfit was soaked with blood, and I shuddered imagining the agony and terror Amos must have endured.

"I want to see my son," I declared, clutching the clothes to my chest and struggling to stand.

Unable to stop me, Rio led me to the morgue.

Amos’s body, ravaged by the horses, lay there unrecognizable. I collapsed at his side in grief, consumed by overwhelming hatred.

Rio Hayes stayed by my side, gently patting my back as he silently wiped away his tears. I looked up at him, struggling to fathom how he could be so insincere.

Just as my emotions threatened to overflow, Theodora Collins stepped into the room, casting a scornful glance at Amos’s lifeless body with a look of distaste. Leaning close to Rio, she murmured in German, "Darling, our son is still waiting to celebrate his birthday. Why are you here in the morgue with the departed? This is such bad luck. Let's go quickly."

Rio’s eyes darted toward me, uncomfortable, and replied, "I’ll be right there." He stood, attempting to coax me to rise with him.

I didn't move, my gaze locked on Theodora. Noticing my scrutiny, Theodora offered a brief, apologetic smile and switched to English, saying, "Ma’am, my condolences. There's a matter that needs Rio’s attention. Could we borrow him for a few hours?"

Despite her seemingly courteous words, her demeanor was unmistakably that of someone in charge.

As I watched, Rio and Theodora departed, their fingers intertwined even before leaving the morgue. Swallowing my grief, I brought Amos's body back to England.

I visited every cemetery in London, selecting a peaceful resting place for him. Situated between hills and near a river, it was about a mile from the amusement park Amos adored.

Rio knew I had returned but never reached out. Instead, he arranged for a housekeeper and had a selection of organic vegetables delivered, instructing her to prepare meals for me regularly.

But I had no appetite, visibly wasting away. Unable to console me, the housekeeper updated Rio on my condition.

I overheard the call. After listening, he merely responded with a detached "hmm" before hanging up.

On the day of Amos’s burial, I dialed his number. Theodora answered, out of breath, calling me "ma’am" and saying Rio was busy.

I chuckled—busy indeed, but with another woman. I hung up, and laid my son to rest.

The day was sunny, perfect for camping, yet my Amos lay in a cold grave. Holding his baby photos, I nearly fainted, my tears seeming endless.

Not until the sun vanished below the horizon did I return to the chilly emptiness of what was once my home. Normally, by this hour, the dinner table would be set with ravioli, pulled pork, spiced honey cake, and a steaming coffee pot, but today the house was eerily silent.

As I pondered this, Rio called. "Honey, I let the housekeeper go because her cooking didn’t meet your standards. I’m back in the country and almost home. I’ll make dinner tonight, just wait for me."

Mimicking his indifferent tone, I simply replied, "Hmm."

Rio seemed momentarily taken aback, as I had never spoken to him so coldly before. Before he could respond, I ended the call.

Barely putting my phone away, an Instagram notification popped up—a video liked by a friend. I clicked it to find a travel clip posted by Theodora, ending with a silhouette unmistakably belonging to Rio.

Her profile was a diary of sorts, documenting the everyday moments of her life with Rio and their son, Callahan. The earliest post was from seven years ago, on the very day I gave birth to Amos.

In the video, Theodora, wearing vintage-style maternity clothes, gleamed at the camera. Subsequent clips were filled with scenes of their cozy family time in the villa next to mine. Watching Rio play affectionately with another son, my heart grew colder.

With Amos, he had always been the stern father. I never knew he had such a gentle side.

Back when I invested every penny I had into his startup, to avoid hindering him, I endured the heartbreak of seven miscarriages and my health deteriorated.

After his business succeeded, he finally agreed to have a child. We spent three years trying, until eventually, IVF blessed us with Amos.

On the day Amos was born, Rio wept like a child, promising to protect and love us forever. Yet, within a year, he had impregnated Theodora, and I only now discovered the truth.

How painfully ironic.

In the early hours of the morning, Rio stumbled back home. I was waiting for him on the couch. He reeked of alcohol as he leaned in to kiss my forehead. "Valeria, I'm home," he mumbled drunkenly.

Trying to ignore the stench, I shifted away, forcing myself to tolerate his presence. Rio plopped down beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist, muttering incomprehensibly. I ignored his slurred speech and asked coldly, "You've been back for a while. Where have you been?"

He didn't reply, resting his head on my shoulder as if he'd passed out. Glancing at him, I noticed a red lipstick mark on his neck. With a bitter smile, I shoved him away and tossed the divorce papers at him. "Rio, I want a divorce."

He opened his eyes, a sharp glint momentarily breaking through his drunken state, but he quickly replaced it with a pitiable look, pulling me closer. "Valeria, I know you're upset about Amos's death. I've been avoiding you because I couldn't face it either. I drank to numb the pain. Please, don't be angry."

He avoided the subject of divorce, and I understood why. Our company was something we had built together, and a divorce would mean splitting it. He couldn't accept that. Knowing an argument now would be futile, I headed upstairs to the bedroom.

I couldn't sleep. As dawn broke, just as I started to drift off, a loud crash from downstairs jolted me awake. I rushed down to find Amos's favorite LEGO wall knocked over, pieces scattered everywhere.

Stunned, my emotions erupted as I yelled at the culprit, Callahan. "Haven't you learned any manners? Who told you to touch my son's things?"

Startled, Callahan started to cry. Theodora swept him into her embrace, tears in her eyes as she looked at me and said, "I'm sorry, Valeria, Callahan didn't mean to."

Rio entered at that moment, took in the scene, and dropped the papers he was holding to go to their side, wrapping them both in his arms. He barked at me, "Valeria, was that necessary? It's just some blocks; they can be replaced. Why overreact?"

Callahan stuck his tongue out at me from the safety of Rio's arms, fearless. Theodora gave me a triumphant look, raising her eyebrow daringly.

I stormed down the stairs, trembling with anger, and slapped Rio hard across the face. "You jerk, Rio!"

"Ah! Rio, are you alright?" Theodora shrieked, instinctively cupping his face with her hands.

Rio held her hands, his eyes flashing as he glared at me. "Feel better now?"

Tears streamed down as I sank to the floor, painstakingly gathering the LEGO pieces one by one. Theodora's pointed heels kept jabbing into my hand as she pretended to avoid me, each time more painful than the last.

She feigned surprise each time, saying, "I'm sorry, Valeria, it was an accident," yet her apologies were as insincere as her actions were deliberate. Rio watched without interfering, instead leading the pair to the couch, handing Callahan some documents he'd picked up.

"You like the horse ranch in the country, right? Your godfather is giving it to you now."

It was absurd. Our son had died in a riding accident, and here he was, gifting a ranch to another child. Rio watched for my reaction as he made the announcement. But I was like a puppet with cut strings, silently collecting the LEGO pieces.

Callahan, thrilled with the gift, bounced on the couch. "Be careful," Theodora advised, steadying him. The three of them exchanged smiles, looking like a happy family. I was just an outsider.

Once Callahan calmed down, Theodora brought him over. "Remember, Callahan, I said we were here to comfort your godmother. This is her. Say hi."

Reluctantly, Callahan mumbled a greeting. It hurt deeply. I pushed him away, saying, "I'm not your godmother. Go away!"

Theodora shot me a venomous look, holding her wailing son as she returned to Rio's side. "Valeria, you're so ungrateful! We came to support you after your loss, and this is how you repay us? No wonder you lost your son!"

My eyes burned as I looked at Rio, my voice trembling. "Do you have any idea what you're saying, Rio? Amos was your son too!"

His cold indifference finally snapped something inside me. I lunged at him, desperate and furious, lashing out.

Fed up, Rio shielded Theodora and Callahan, eventually shoving me away. "You're out of control!" he spat. "Theodora, let's go!"

They left, and I was alone, sobbing uncontrollably as the door clicked shut behind them.