He Stole Mom’s Medicine to Save His First Love

Five years ago, my husband, Ethan Brooks stole my mother's life-saving medicine and gave it to his first love. They were deeply in love.

To keep my mother alive, I took the blame for someone else and traded three years of freedom for special medicine and one million dollars.

Before going to prison, I transferred the money to my mother’s account and asked Ethan to care for my mother and our children.

Ethan swore to treat my mother as his own and take good care of the family.

I endured three painful years behind bars,

clinging to the hope of reuniting with my mother, my children, and Ethan.

But when I was finally released,

I was devastated to learn that my mother had died the very day I was imprisoned.

Ethan had ignored her suffering and let her die. Worse, he had since built a new life with his first love, Vanessa Blake, and even had a child with her. My twins had come to see her as their mother.

Furious, I confronted Ethan, but he said without shame, “Your mother was old. Medicine wouldn’t have helped her. Vanessa was pregnant with my child. Of course, I had to save her. And luckily, you foolishly took the fall so our family could enjoy peace these past three years.”

His heartlessness enraged me, and the change in my children broke my heart.

Now, Ethan must pay a thousandfold for everything he’s done,

to repay what I lost!

“I don’t need a tainted woman as my wife anymore. Sign this and leave.”

Backed by the million I left behind, Ethan, now part of the nouveau riche, coldly tossed a divorce agreement in front of me. I was still reeling from the news of my mother’s death.

“The kids don’t need a mother like you either. Give up custody, and I might give you 200,000. That should be enough to start over.”

“Never!” I choked back my tears, tore the divorce papers, and flung the pieces at him. Just looking at his face made me sick.

“I will never let my children live with a murderer like you!”

“Murderer? Tessa Morgan, are you insane? Maybe you should hear what the kids have to say.”

At his signal, the nanny brought in the twins. They looked straight at Ethan, completely ignoring me.

“Jordan,Riley, I’m your mother. Come to me!” After three long years apart, I called out to them with all my love.

“Mom? You’re not our mom. Auntie Vanessa is our mother. You’re just a dirty criminal—an evil woman!”

My son, once angelic, now spat venom and bit my face.

“What are you even wearing? So gross. Are you a beggar or a homeless person?”

Jordan looked at me with scorn. Not even eight years old, she was dressed like a pageant queen—caked in makeup, her hair dyed pale blonde.

“How dare you let my children become like this?” My heart ached, and I knew this was all Ethan’s doing.

I screamed at him, but he casually raised his phone and started recording.

“What are you filming?! Stop!” I lunged at him, but two towering bodyguards grabbed me roughly and dragged me toward the basement.

“Let me go! You have no right!”

I thrashed and fought, but it was no use. They threw me into a filthy, suffocating utility room.

“Tessa, I gave you a chance. You wasted it.” Ethan stood outside smugly, then called a mental hospital right in front of me. “…Yes, my wife’s unstable. I’ve tried to help her, but she keeps lashing out. I’m concerned for her... and for the children’s safety.” His voice cracked, sounding like the perfectly worried husband and father. The video he had taken worked in his favor. The hospital confirmed they would take me within 72 hours.

“Enjoy your last bit of ‘freedom,’ Tessa. You were born to be locked up.”

Ethan sneered and ordered the guards to watch me closely. No matter what I said or promised, they were not to let me out.

As he walked away, I finally broke down. I never imagined that my release would be worse than prison.

But I quickly pulled myself together. I wiped away my tears, crouched in the corner, and with trembling hands, took out my phone to send a message to the number I’d memorized.

The man who once took the blame for me had wealth and influence beyond imagination. He had sent his agent to visit me in prison, leaving a number and a promise: no matter how difficult, he’d help me—just once.

I had planned to use that favor for Ethan or the children.

But now, it was clear—I didn’t need to.

Just as I was about to hit send, the door slammed open. Ethan barged in and snatched the phone.

“Thanks to Vanessa’s reminder, I figured you must’ve picked up all sorts of tricks in prison,” he growled, crushing my phone under his heel. “Don’t push me again. This is for your own good.”

The door slammed shut again, cutting me off completely from the outside world. But I refused to give up.

I lay by the door, watched quietly, then started yelling and thrashing around the room. I feigned madness, breaking things.

When I tried setting fire to an old wooden cabinet, one bodyguard finally snapped.

“Shut up, you bitch!” He shouted, landing a brutal kick to my ribs.

If the other guard hadn’t stepped in, I would’ve been badly injured. But I got what I wanted—I stole his phone from his jacket. I had already seen the unlock code.

I quickly sent a plea for help to the gentleman.

“Ms. Morgan, please hang on. I’ll come for you and the children in three days.”

Relief washed over me as I read the reply.

Curled up and broken, I closed my eyes, my mother’s frail image flashing in my mind.

I swore then and there—Ethan will pay for my mother’s death, my stolen freedom, and every cruel thing he’s done!