"You knew Grace was allergic to alcohol, so why did you buy that liquor-filled chocolate? Was it intentional? Did you want my grandson dead?"

"You murderer! You need to pay for my grandson’s life!"

My mother-in-law’s relatives punched and kicked me like they meant to tear me apart.

Just then, Claire arrived. Without hesitation, she stepped in front of me, shielding me with her body as she faced the crowd.

“Grace’s death was an accident. Lucas Grant wasn’t at fault.”

“As long as I’m alive, no one will lay a hand on him.”

That day, to me, Claire looked like a towering protector.

She shielded me from blame, from violence, from collapse.

Later, she brought me to a psychologist.

She stayed with me through my slow, painful recovery from Grace’s death.

But those back-to-back tragedies left permanent scars.

I could no longer have a job or live like I used to.

I had nightmares of Grace dying. I constantly feared something terrible would happen to Lily.

Claire suggested I resign and take care of the kids full-time.

After a long struggle, I gave up the career I’d worked years to build and became a stay-at-home dad.

Thankfully, Lily was obedient and mature beyond her years.

Even though work kept Claire busy, she always showed me care and respect.

Through it all, I had regrets—but also gratitude for having such a partner.

We seemed like a relatively happy family.

Never did I expect that one day, Claire would use Grace’s death to wound me.

Nor could I have imagined it was her affair that caused our son’s death.

She placed the blame on me and trapped me in guilt.

She was the one who shattered our family and stole away my happiness.

So many blows had left me numb.

I closed my eyes, barely able to process the pain.

I gently patted Lily’s back, reassuring her there was nothing to fear.

I told her I would never blame her.

I told myself the same.

But Claire and Ethan had to pay.

I dropped Lily off at a trusted friend’s home, then drove to the law office.

While drafting the divorce papers, I asked the lawyer about Grace’s case.

He said too much time had passed. Without hard evidence, Claire couldn’t be prosecuted.

So, I could only seek justice in my own way.

I drove to Claire’s company with the divorce agreement in hand.

After so many years, I stepped into that familiar building once more.

Everything felt alien.

Before I could collect myself, the receptionist blocked me.

“Sorry, sir, you can’t enter without an appointment.”

“I’m Claire’s husband. I need to see her.”

The receptionist gave me a once-over, lips curled in mockery.

“Everyone here knows Secretary Cross is our boss’s boyfriend.”

I contacted my old colleagues and friends.

Only then did I learn that everyone close to me had been fired by Claire.

She trapped me in guilt at home—

while building a kingdom of wealth and power for herself and Ethan.

A wave of nausea rolled through me. Again and again.

I was about to call her when Ethan showed up, the stench of cologne wafting toward me.

He straightened his collar, gave me a meaningful look.

“You came to see Claire? We just... Never mind.”

“She’s resting. If you have something to say, say it to me.”

Ethan led me into his office.

Without hesitation, he said Claire was pregnant.

“She’s three months along. The doctor says it’s a boy.”

“Claire’s thrilled. She plans to divorce you before the baby arrives.”

I quietly turned on the recorder on my phone, capturing every word of his smug rambling.

Ethan told me everything.

He said Claire was never that busy—she just didn’t want to see me.

He said they’d been together for a long time. “On Valentine’s Day, when she claimed she was on a business trip? She actually took me to Bali. We bought souvenirs at the airport and waved goodbye to you.”

“Last year, when you got into that car accident, she said she was stuck at work, but really, she was just with me.”

“And last month, when you were hospitalized for appendicitis…”

Ethan grinned wider.

“She had the doctor give you double anesthesia—just so I wouldn’t have to wait alone.”

“While you were writhing in pain and passed out, we were having fun in the next room.”

“But none of that compares to what happened on the anniversary of your son’s death.”

“She didn’t even bother changing clothes before rushing to meet me. While we were making love, your son’s portrait was sitting right beside our bed…”

As I watched that smug expression twist his face, I couldn’t hold back anymore.

I grabbed the hot water from the table and flung it at him.

Before I even set the cup down, Claire burst in.

She shoved me away and cradled Ethan like he was some fragile treasure.

“Lucas, what are you doing? If you have a problem, take it out on me. Why are you bullying a kid?”

Rage burned through me like wildfire.

I stared at the woman in front of me—

The same woman who once shielded me, stood by me, and silenced every whisper.

Now she stood against me, defending her lover.

The pain had long since turned to numbness.

I wiped my wet hands dry, looked up at Claire, and said coldly:

“You clearly don’t understand what bullying really looks like.”

Then I grabbed Ethan by the hair and slammed his head against the marble tabletop.

I kicked Claire square in the crotch.

Before either of them could react,

I seized the fruit knife on the table and stepped toward their howls.