One month ago, I lost my son after a ferris wheel accident.

It was Alexus’ fifth birthday. I was standing in the middle of the amusement park, holding two cones of melting ice cream because Anthony promised he would come.

I called him. Ninety-nine times, but he didn’t answer. So I went alone with my son.

We got into the carriage. The metal bar locked down with a heavy clank. The wheel turned, lifting us higher and higher until the people below looked like ants.

Alexus laughed, pointing at the clouds. “Look, Mommy! I can see the whole world!”

Then, a screech. A terrible, grinding sound of metal shearing against metal. The carriage jerked violently. My stomach dropped.

“Mommy!” Alexus screamed, reaching for me.

I lunged for him, wrapping my arms around his small body, trying to shield him.

Then the cable snapped.

We fell. The wind roared in my ears. The sky spun. Screams tore from my throat, but they were drowned out by the deafening crash of steel hitting the earth.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

When I woke up, pain was everywhere. A doctor told me I had been in a coma for three weeks.

“Where…” My throat was like sandpaper. “Where is Alexus? Where is my son?”

The doctor hesitated. He looked at the nurse beside him. That look. That hesitation. It stopped my heart.

“Mrs. Smith, the impact… it was severe.”

“Where is he?!” I tried to sit up, but pain shot through my ribs, forcing me back down.

“He’s in the ICU,” the doctor said softly. “He survived the fall, but… the oxygen deprivation was too long. There was severe trauma to the cranium.”

He took a breath.

“Alexus is brain dead, Amber. I’m so sorry. He will never wake up.”

The world shattered.

No. No, no, no.

“You’re lying,” I whispered, tears blurring my vision. “He’s five. He’s just five. He can’t be… he can’t.”

I screamed. I screamed until my throat bled, until the nurses had to hold me down.

“Please! Save him! Do something!” I begged, grabbing the doctor’s coat. “I’ll pay anything! Just save my baby!”

Then the door opened.

Anthony walked in. He looked impeccable. Freshly pressed suit, hair styled, not a hair out of place. He didn’t look like a man whose son was lying in a morgue of machines.

“Stop it, Amber,” he said coldly. “You’re making a scene.”

“Anthony! Our son… they said he’s brain dead!” I sobbed, reaching for him. “Tell them to fix him! Tell them not to give up!”

He stepped back, avoiding my touch like I was contagious.

“It’s your fault,” he said flatly.

I froze.

“My… fault?”

“You took him to that death trap,” Anthony sneered. “If you had just stayed home like a good wife, none of this would have happened. You killed him.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. My knees buckled.

“I… I just wanted him to have a birthday…”

“And now he’s a vegetable,” Anthony cut me off. “Stop crying. It’s pathetic.”

He turned to the doctor. “Sedate her. She’s hysterical.”

I woke up again hours later, or maybe days. The room was dim.

My head felt heavy, wrapped in cotton. I kept my eyes closed, trying to remember how to breathe.

That’s when I heard voices.

“Keep her sedated until I say so.”

Anthony’s voice. Low. Urgent.

“Mr. Smith,” the doctor sounded nervous. “It’s been days. The drugs… high doses of amnesia-inducing sedatives can cause permanent damage. She might forget everything. Even you.”

“That’s the point,” Anthony said. “I need her to forget. If she remembers the accident, she’ll be a liability. If she forgets about me, then good. At least, I can dispose of her.”

My breath caught. My hands froze under the sheets.

The doctor hesitated. “But… what about the boy? Alexus?”

“He’s brain dead,” Anthony said, his voice devoid of any emotion. “He’s useless now. But at least he served his purpose. The transplant was a success,” Anthony continued. “My son with Alicia is going to live because of it.”

My blood turned to ice.

Alicia. My best friend. The woman I had cried to about my marriage. The woman who held my hand when I thought I was losing my mind.

She had a son. A sickly boy she claimed was from a one-night stand she couldn’t remember because she was drunk. But now I know the truth.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

My husband… and my best friend.

“I paid you to keep your mouth shut,” Anthony snapped. “If you talk, you lose everything. Just keep Amber drugged until she’s gone crazy. She’s useless to me now.”

Footsteps. The door clicked shut.

Silence returned, heavy and suffocating.

I lay there in the dark, tears streaming down my face, hot and silent.

My son was almost gone. My husband was a monster. My best friend was a traitor.

Everything I loved… everything I was… it was all a lie.

I curled into a ball, hugging myself, trying to hold the broken pieces of my soul together. The betrayal was raw, a physical pain in my chest that hurt more than the crash.

He wanted me to forget?

He wanted me to fade away?

No.

A cold, hard rage settled in my stomach, replacing the grief.

I waited until the nurse came in to check my vitals. I pretended to be asleep. When she left, I sat up.

My body screamed in protest, but I forced myself to move. I reached for the phone on the bedside table with shaking hands.

I didn’t call the police. Anthony owned them.

I didn’t call a lawyer. Anthony would buy them.

I dialed a number I had memorized years ago. A number I swore I would never use.

It rang once.

“Hello?”

A deep, velvet voice. Dangerous. Powerful.

I closed my eyes, picturing the man on the other end. The man Anthony hated more than anyone. The man who had once offered me the world, and I had foolishly turned him down for a love that was nothing but rot.

“Sebastian?” I whispered.

A pause. The line crackled with tension.

“Amber?” His voice dropped an octave. “Where are you? What happened?”

“I’m in the hospital,” I said, my voice steady now. “Do you still want me?”

“Yes.”

I gripped the phone tighter.

“I’m ready to divorce my husband. When should we get married?”

I refused to be a victim.

I refused to let them see me break.

I wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand, smearing the blood from where the IV had been. I stood up. My legs were shaking, but my spine was steel.

I walked down the hallway. The lights hummed, buzzing like angry flies. I found his room.

It was quiet now. The doctors were gone. The machines were still there, blinking, breathing for a boy who was no longer there.

I looked at him.

He looked like he was sleeping. His skin was pale, translucent like wax. There was a bandage on his chest. A thick, white square where they had cut him open and taken the only thing that mattered.

I placed my hand on his forehead. It was cold.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you, Alexus."

I reached for the machine. The ventilator hissed, a rhythmic, mechanical mockery of life.

I found the button.

Click.

The hissing stopped. The room fell into a silence so heavy it felt like it would crush my ribs.

"I hope you are happy now, baby," I choked out. "Mommy loves you. Mommy will always love you."

I didn't let Anthony bury him. I didn't let him put on a show for the cameras, pretending to be the grieving father over a casket he helped fill.

I went to the morgue myself. I screamed at the director until he processed the paperwork. I signed my name until my fingers cramped.

Two hours later, I walked out into the rain.

I wasn't holding a hand anymore. I was holding a box.

A heavy, marble urn. Cold against my chest.

"Let's go home, Alexus," I whispered to the ash.

The taxi ride was a blur of gray sky and wet pavement.

When I arrived at the mansion, I expected silence. I expected the house to be mourning, the curtains drawn, the air stale with grief.

Instead, I heard music.

Soft jazz drifting from the open windows. And laughter.

Laughter.

I stood in the rain, clutching the urn, water soaking through my thin hospital gown. My son was dead. I was holding his ashes. And someone was laughing in my house.

I pushed the front door open.

The warmth of the foyer hit me. The scent of expensive cologne and lilies—Alicia’s favorite flower—filled the air.

They were in the living room.

Anthony was sitting on the sofa, a glass of scotch in his hand. His tie was loosened. He looked relaxed.

Alicia was beside him, pouring tea. She looked radiant. Her hair was perfect, her dress a soft pastel yellow that made her look like spring.

They looked like a family. A happy, perfect family.

Anthony looked up. His smile vanished.

"Amber?" He frowned, setting his glass down. "Why are you back?"

I stood there, dripping wet, shivering. "I live here, Anthony."

"I thought you’d be at the hospital," he said, his voice annoyed. "Watching over the body. Or making a scene."

He didn't even know. He didn't care enough to check.

"I'm tired," I said, my voice hollow. I held the urn tighter, shielding it from their gaze. I didn't want them to see it. I didn't want their dirty eyes on my son.

"Well, you shouldn't be here," Anthony snapped. "You look like a ghost. It's depressing."

He took a sip of his drink.

"It’s your fault, you know," he added casually. "If you hadn't taken him to that park, we wouldn't be in this mess. You ruined everything."

I bit the inside of my cheek. I tasted iron.

"Don't be harsh on her, Anthony," Alicia chimed in. Her voice was like syrup—sweet, sticky, and sickening.

She stood up and walked toward me, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

"She needs to rest," Alicia said, reaching out to touch my arm. I flinched away.

She didn't look offended. She just smiled that pitying, condescending smile.

"That is why I brought Leo here," she said softly. "To help with your recovery. The doctors say exposure to children can help with the grieving process. It’s better this way."

My stomach turned.

I didn't say a word. I couldn't. If I opened my mouth, I would scream until the windows shattered.

I turned around and walked toward the stairs.

"Amber!" Anthony called out. "Don't you dare ignore Alicia when she's trying to help you!"

I kept walking.

Step by step. The urn felt heavier with every stair.

I reached the hallway. The door to Alexus’s room was open.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

I walked to the doorway.

The room was bright. The dinosaur wallpaper was still there. The bed was made.

And there, sitting in the middle of the floor, was a boy.

Leo.

He looked healthy. His cheeks were pink. He was laughing.

He was holding Alexus’s favorite toy car. The red one with the missing wheel.

"Vroom! Vroom!" Leo shouted, crashing the car into the leg of the bed.

My breath caught in my throat.

That was Alexus’s car. That was Alexus’s room. That was Alexus’s heart beating in that chest.

"What are you doing?" I asked. My voice was trembling.

Leo looked up. He had Anthony’s eyes.

"Playing," he said simply. "Auntie Amber, look! Fast car!"

He smiled. An innocent, toothy smile.

I gripped the doorframe.

I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to snatch the toy from his hands and throw him out. I wanted to tell him he was a thief.

But he was just a boy. He was five years old. He didn't know his mother was a snake. He didn't know his father was a monster.

He was just a child.

I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. I stepped into the room.

"Leo," I started, trying to keep my voice steady. "You shouldn't be in here..."

Then I saw it.

A black shape moving on his arm.

A spider. Large, hairy, crawling up his pale skin toward his neck.

Leo didn't notice it. He was too busy crashing the car.

Instinct took over. I didn't think. I just moved.

"Hold still!" I gasped.

I rushed forward, raising my hand to swat the spider away. I needed to kill it before it bit him.

I raised my hand high, my palm open.

"Get off!" I yelled at the spider.

Leo looked up, his eyes widening in terror as he saw my hand raised above him.

"Mommy!" he screamed.

"What are you doing?!"

A shriek tore through the air from the doorway.

I froze.

"Help!" Alicia screamed, her voice echoing through the entire house. "Anthony! Help! She's killing my son!"

I was on my knees.

The cold, hard floor bit into my skin. My hands were wrenched behind my back, the metal cuffs cutting into my wrists.

"I was killing the spider!" I screamed, my voice raw and desperate. "There was a spider on his arm! I wasn't hurting him!"

No one listened.

Anthony stood over me, his face a mask of disgust. Alicia was sobbing hysterically, clutching Leo to her chest like I was a rabid dog.

"She tried to hit him!" Alicia wailed, pointing a shaking finger at me. "She raised her hand! I saw it! She's insane, Anthony! She's dangerous!"

"No!" I begged, looking up at my husband. "Please, Anthony! Look at his arm! There might be a bite! I was trying to save him!"

"Save him?" Anthony scoffed. He leaned down, his eyes cold and empty. "You're jealous, Amber. You're jealous because your son is dead and hers is alive. You wanted to hurt him."

"I didn't! I swear on Alexus's grave!"

"Don't you dare speak his name," Anthony hissed. He turned to the police officers who had just arrived. "Take her away. She's a threat to my family."

"But sir—" one officer started.

"Take her!" Anthony roared. "Or I'll have your badges!"

They dragged me out.

I kicked and screamed, begging them to check Leo's arm, begging them to listen. But they just shoved me into the back of the cruiser. The door slammed shut, sealing me in darkness.

I spent the night in a cell.

It was cold. It smelled of urine and despair. I huddled in the corner, shivering, my hospital gown thin and useless. I closed my eyes and saw Alexus's face. I saw the spider. I saw Alicia's triumphant smile through her fake tears.

They left me there to rot.

The next morning, the cell door clanked open.

"You made bail," the guard grunted.

I stumbled out into the blinding sunlight. My body ached. My spirit was bruised.

A black car was waiting at the curb. The window rolled down.

Anthony.

He didn't look at me. He looked straight ahead. "Get in."

I hesitated. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. But I had nowhere to go. My accounts were frozen. My family was gone.

I got in.

The drive was silent. Suffocating.

When we pulled up to the mansion, Alicia was waiting on the porch. She looked fresh, rested. She was wearing a white dress, looking like an angel.

She walked down the steps as I got out of the car.

"Beg her," Anthony said, stepping out behind me.

I froze. "What?"

"Beg Alicia for forgiveness," Anthony said flatly. "She's the only reason I bailed you out. She dropped the charges. You owe her."

I looked at Alicia. She was smiling that sweet, poisonous smile.

"Come on, Amber," she cooed. "You owe me. I saved you from prison. You could have rotted in there for years for attempted assault on a minor."

"I didn't assault him," I whispered, my voice shaking with rage. "I was saving him from a spider."

"Liar," Anthony snapped. "Apologize. Now."

"No," I said.

Alicia's smile faltered. "Amber, please. Don't be difficult. I'm trying to help you."

"Help me?" I laughed, a broken, hysterical sound. "You ruined me!”

I raised my hand and slapped her.

Crack.

The sound echoed across the lawn. Alicia stumbled back, clutching her cheek.

But before I could even take a breath, a hand grabbed my hair and yanked my head back.

Pain exploded in my scalp.

Anthony threw me to the ground. I landed hard on the gravel, scraping my palms and knees.

"You ungrateful bitch!" he roared. He kicked me in the ribs.

I gasped for air, curling into a ball.

"Anthony, stop!" Alicia cried, rushing to his side. She grabbed his arm, her eyes wide with fake concern. "Don't hurt her! She's just... confused. She's grieving."

She looked down at me, pity oozing from her pores.

"It's okay, Anthony," she said softly. "I forgive her. I know she's not herself. We have to be patient."

Anthony looked at her, his anger melting into adoration. "You are too good for this world, Alicia."

He looked back down at me with pure hatred.

"You're lucky she's a saint," he spat. "Because if it were up to me, I'd leave you in the gutter."

I lay there in the dirt, tears streaming down my face. I was broken. Defeated.

"Please," I whispered. "Just let me go."

"Oh, no," Anthony sneered. "You're not going anywhere. Not after what you just did."

He leaned down, his voice low and menacing.

"You want to stay in this house? Fine. But you won't be the mistress of the manor anymore. You've proven you can't be trusted."

He straightened up, adjusting his cuffs.

"From now on, you're the maid. You'll cook. You'll clean. You'll serve Alicia and Leo. Until you decide to fix yourself."

My blood ran cold.

"A... maid?"

"Yes," Alicia said, beaming. "It will be good for you, Amber. Hard work builds character. And it will keep you busy so you don't have time to... imagine things. After all, where would you go without my mercy?”

The next few weeks were a nightmare.

I scrubbed floors until my knees bled. I washed dishes until my hands were raw. I watched them eat dinner at my table while I stood in the corner, waiting to clear their plates.

Every night, Anthony would make me sit and watch the news.

"Look at this," he'd say, pointing at the screen. "See how happy we are?"

On the screen, Anthony and Alicia were at a charity gala. He had his arm around her waist. She was wearing my diamonds.

I sat there on the floor, hugging my knees, watching them erase me. But something shifted in me as I watched them.

The pain didn't lessen. The grief didn't fade. But the fear... the fear began to turn into something else.

Cold. Hard. Resolve.

I stood up.

"I'm done," I said to the empty room.

I went to the drawer where I kept my mail.

I pulled out a thick envelope that had arrived that morning. It was from a law firm.

I tore it open.

PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE

Sebastian finally started our plan.