My relatives said I’d won the second-wife lottery in New York. Joey Sterling married me in a headline wedding after his first wife left the country and his son drowned. A year later, we had a son, and life seemed blissful. Then Chloe, his ex-wife, returned—with convenient amnesia. She called during our nights, stormed our anniversary dinner, and kissed Joey in front of me. In a crowded store, she screamed that I was a homewrecker and ripped out a chunk of my hair. Joey would beg me, “Mia, she’s sick. She doesn’t mean it… Once she’s better, she’ll leave us alone.” I believed him. But on our son’s birthday, Chloe took him. After five frantic hours, I found him barely breathing in a Central Park pond. I was trembling too hard to lift him. When I turned for help, I saw Joey and Chloe standing close, foreheads touching. “My love,” he said, voice breaking, “I don’t know when you’ll remember… right here, I proposed to you ten times.” A cold calm washed over me. I took out my phone and called 911. I was done swallowing this half-baked life, this second-best marriage. … Black water was pouring from my son’s mouth and nose; he could barely choke out the word “Mama.” My heart was a frantic drum as I performed CPR, my arms aching with exhaustion. All the while, Joey was gently pulling Chloe into his arms, whispering about the romance of his long-ago proposals. It wasn’t until the piercing wail of sirens sliced through the air that Joey seemed to wake from his trance, his gaze finally shifting to his wife and dying son. “Mia.” I looked up, my eyes burning. For a fleeting moment, I thought he was finally going to show some concern for our son, whose little face was already stiff with cold. But reality hit me like a physical blow. “Why did you call the police! Don’t you know Chloe’s condition can’t handle any stress?” My head buzzed. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that excuse. Because Chloe couldn’t be “stressed,” I had spent the last six months living like a mistress in my own home. My son was forced to pretend he was his dead half-brother, thrown into a freezing river in the middle of winter for “swimming lessons,” and ended up with pneumonia. If my son and I didn't play along, we were the unkind ones. But I had had enough. I pushed myself up from the frozen ground and started walking toward the police officers. I didn’t get two steps before Chloe shoved me hard from behind. “I’ll teach you to call the police!” After six hours of adrenaline and physical exertion, my world went black. I crumpled to my knees. The last thing I heard was Joey’s voice, distant but firm, determined to protect Chloe. “It was a misunderstanding with our nanny. The boy’s mother was just out playing with our son.” “Yes, I’m his legal guardian. I’m not pressing charges…” When I opened my eyes again, I shot up in bed. “Where’s my son?” Joey calmly placed a warm towel on my forehead, a hint of amusement in his voice. “What’s the rush? Noah just went for a little swim. He went home with the housekeeper hours ago.” He sighed. “And you, calling the police over such a small thing. You made Chloe sit through a thirty-minute questioning…” His every word was an accusation, painting me as the one who had overreacted. Our son nearly drowned, and that was a “small thing”? I slapped his hand away, my voice hard for the first time in our marriage. “Let’s get a divorce.” A dead silence fell over the room. As Joey stared at me in stunned disbelief, Chloe pushed the door open. A flicker of triumph flashed in her eyes before her expression crumbled into anguish. “Mia, please, don’t do this! I remember everything now, my son… my Ethan is dead,” she sobbed. “I just want to treat Noah like my own son, to love him. Isn’t it better for him to have one more person who loves him?” In the past, words like these would have sent me into a blind rage. This time, I just smiled. “Why raise another woman’s child? Here, I’ll make room for you. You and Joey can have another one of your own.” Surprise flickered across Chloe’s face, quickly replaced by a look of profound humiliation as her eyes welled up. “I’m not trying to break up this family! How could you say that to me? It’s just… compared to my Ethan, Noah is so weak! I was just trying to help you toughen him up, and you turn on me like this!” Tears streamed down her face, her body trembling as if she were about to collapse. Joey, completely flustered, shoved me aside and rushed to her. The force sent me stumbling backward, and my head slammed against the sharp corner of the bedframe. Blood streamed down my face. But Joey didn’t even look back. His voice was filled with reproach. “Mia, Chloe is a patient! Do you have to provoke her, force her to remember how Ethan drowned? Is that what makes you happy? How did you become so cruel?” The accusation was laughable. Chloe was the one who had brought up Ethan. But Joey was just getting started, turning his anger on our son. “The boy is spoiled because of you! A little swim sends him into a panic. A soft mother makes for a weak son! And now you want a divorce? Just stop it! There is no way I’m letting you raise him!” A groan of pain escaped my lips. As Joey instinctively turned his head, Chloe suddenly clutched hers, crying out in pain. Without a second of hesitation, Joey swept her up into his arms and bolted from the room. As he carried her out, Chloe looked over his shoulder and shot me a smirk of pure mockery. I watched them go, my expression blank. Joey was certain that with our son as my weakness, I would always give in. But he didn't know. He didn't know that when he was drowning in depression after his wife and son were gone, it was his own mother who had begged me to marry him. And the document I signed wasn't just a marriage certificate; it was also a pre-nuptial agreement with a clause stating that in the event of a divorce, Joey Sterling waived all rights to custody. I could walk away whenever I wanted. Joey didn’t come home. It seemed he had forgotten it was our son’s birthday. But I hadn’t. When I opened the door to Noah’s room, I found his small figure staring blankly at his birthday cake. His eyes lit up when he saw me, like a little bird waiting to be fed. He instinctively glanced behind me. Seeing no one, he stretched his lips into an even bigger smile. My heart ached. At five years old, my son was already an expert at hiding his disappointment. But it was Noah who burst into tears first. “Mommy, what happened to your head? Is it because I’m not as good a swimmer as my brother? Did Daddy get mad at you again? It’s all my fault…” A five-year-old should be showered with praise on his birthday, told how wonderful and amazing he is. He shouldn’t be anxiously wondering what he did wrong this time. But for as long as he could remember, he had been compared to a half-brother he had never met. On his fourth birthday, Noah won second place in a competition. “Well,” Joey had sighed, “he still doesn’t have Ethan’s natural talent.” That one sigh extinguished all the boy’s joy. The mood that evening was heavy, the adults murmuring about “if only Ethan were here…” The celebration fizzled out. Joey left early, shutting himself in Ethan’s old room, staring at a wall covered in trophies until the middle of the night. I hugged my son tightly, my voice choked but firm. “No, sweetie, it’s not your fault. You are perfect. It’s Daddy who’s wrong. Mommy is going to take you away from here, and you’ll never have to be compared to anyone ever again.” “What nonsense are you spouting!” A low, furious growl came from the doorway. Joey stood there, his face a thundercloud, and strode towards us. His eyes fell on the gauze on my forehead, his brows knitting together. “When did you hit your head? Did you damage your brain? Is that why you’re filling our son’s head with this poison?” He reached out to check my wound. Seeing this, a flash of jealousy crossed Chloe’s face, and she immediately adopted her fragile persona. “Mia, how can you teach a child that? To run away from the slightest difficulty? That’s not love, you’re harming him! No wonder he…” As she spoke, she casually rolled up her sleeve, revealing a red mark on her arm. She glanced at Noah, her sentence trailing off meaningfully. Joey’s eyes narrowed. He whipped around to face our son. Noah, clearly baffled, just shook his head helplessly. “Daddy, I didn’t…” “And now you’re learning to lie!” The frustrations of the entire evening erupted. Joey grabbed Noah and shoved him in front of Chloe. “Apologize to Aunt Chloe!” The rough grip hurt Noah, and tears welled in his eyes. “It wasn’t me! It really wasn’t! Daddy, don’t you remember my birthday wish?” But Chloe grabbed Noah’s hand, pressed it against her supposed injury, and cried out. “Ow! That hurts! Noah, stop it…” CRACK! Joey backhanded our son, sending him stumbling to the floor. Noah sat there, clutching his face, looking up at his father in stunned silence. The tears stopped. My own eyes filled. I knew what that meant. My son had finally lost all hope in his father. But Joey was oblivious, his voice a harsh command. “Charles! Take Noah to his room and lock the door! Let him think about what he’s done!” Seeing my son’s trembling body, my heart felt like it was being shredded. I lunged forward to get him back. Joey seized my wrist, his voice filled with resentment. “Mia, what is wrong with you? Haven’t you caused enough trouble?” “That’s right, Mia,” Chloe chimed in, pointing at the cake, now a trampled mess on the floor. “Joey came here to celebrate Noah’s birthday, and you’ve ruined everything. I’m sure Noah will resent you for this.” They had ruined everything! Rage exploded in my chest. Without thinking, I slapped Joey across the face. “Divorce! We’re doing it now! And don’t you worry about our son! Whether he turns out good or bad, he is my responsibility from now on!” I had hit him with all my strength. His head snapped to the side. When he turned back, his eyes were red with disbelief. “Haven’t I been good to you? How can you say such a thing?” Perhaps he had. There were gifts on holidays, yearly vacations, small surprises after work. But when Chloe had once looked at a wall of those gifts with a knowing, dismissive smirk, I realized he was just repeating the same routines he’d had with her. And when I was being publicly assaulted, when my son was being ostracized by his classmates, Joey’s silence had been louder and more painful than any slap. “You forgot Ethan—saying these things in front of the child! Do you have any idea how much psychological damage that will do to him!” I didn't care about my son? I laughed, my body shaking. “Yesterday, at the pond, do you know our son almost drowned? If I had been one minute later, he would be gone!” “He was thrown into a freezing river at four years old to ‘practice,’ and he never once cried, even when the cold made his muscles cramp! But the night I was attacked and called a homewrecker, do you know our son cried himself to sleep under his blankets?” I pointed at Chloe, who was hiding behind Joey, trying to smother a smile. Tears mixed with my screams. “Joey, tell me! Did you marry me because you loved me, or because you just wanted to replace Ethan? But Ethan is dead! My son doesn’t have to be him, and he never will be!” As the words left my mouth, the wound on my forehead split open again, and warm blood trickled down my face. A dazed look crossed Joey’s face, and a bitter regret slowly filled his eyes. “Mia, I didn’t know. I really didn’t know.” He took a step forward, reaching out to pull me into his arms. But at that moment, a shriek came from behind him. “How could my Ethan be gone! You must have killed him!” Chloe had “lost her memory” again, lunging at me like a madwoman. I didn’t back down. I raised my hand and slapped her twice, hard. “Chloe, did Ethan really kill himself because his parents got divorced?” She, who was so used to having the upper hand, was incensed. Her eyes darted around, and she snatched a pair of scissors, aiming them at her own body. “I’d rather die than be bullied by a homewrecker like you!” “Chloe!” Joey’s face went white. He lunged, wrestled the scissors from her grasp, and yelled for the staff. “Get the car! We’re going to the hospital!” Before leaving, he rushed back to me, his hands gripping mine, his tone almost pleading. “Thank god, thank god she didn’t hurt you. Please, let the doctor re-bandage your head, okay? I promise… this is the last time.” My head was splitting. I wanted to speak, but no words would come out. The story was that Chloe had run off to another country with Ethan’s swim coach, taking a large sum of money with her. Shortly after, the devastating news came: Ethan, missing his father, had drowned himself in a lake. Joey had been on the verge of a complete breakdown, and Chloe was unreachable. It was only when the money ran out that she had crawled back. The first time she broke into our home, she tore our wedding photos to shreds. But she claimed amnesia, and Joey forgave everything. Then she threw boiling water at me, cut my hair, slipped sleeping pills into my son’s food… Every time, it was the “last time.” A never-ending cycle. But I wasn’t willing to wait anymore. Seeing that I didn’t argue, Joey assumed I had agreed. Still, a sense of panic gripped him. He gritted his teeth and made a final vow. “If this doesn’t work, if she’s not cured this time, I’ll have her committed. I will never let her hurt you again.” He leaned down, pressed a quick kiss on my cheek, and hurried away. I leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the floor, missing the venomous glare Chloe shot me as she was led away. When I opened my eyes, the sun was bright. The housekeeper sat by my bed, her eyes red. “Ma’am, you’re finally awake! The young master has been locked in the basement all night!” I ran barefoot to the basement and scooped up my son, who was burning with fever and delirious. My phone buzzed. A message from my lawyer: The divorce has been finalized. Without hesitation, I grabbed our suitcases, picked up my son, and walked out. But just as I stepped out the front door, a slap sent me sprawling to the ground. “So it was you! How could you enable him like this? He steals something, and you help him run away!” I hit the ground hard, shielding my son, my face contorted in pain. “What are you talking about?” Joey dragged us roughly back upstairs and threw us down at Chloe’s feet. She was sobbing over an empty box. “Ethan’s gold medal is gone! Noah, I know you’re jealous of your brother, but you can’t steal his honor and make it yours!” “I tried to raise you like my own son! Please, just give me back Ethan’s things…” My son, delirious with fever, still instinctively stood up for himself. “No, I didn’t…” Joey snatched him from my arms and kicked him twice, hard. “Still lying! You worthless little thing! You were so jealous you tore all his awards off the wall!” My son’s screams broke me. I grabbed a crystal trophy and pointed it at Joey. “Give me back my son! If you touch him again, I swear I’ll kill you!” “The awards were hung high on the wall. How could a five-year-old reach them?” Joey froze. Chloe suddenly dropped to her knees, slapping herself across the face. “It’s my fault! I shouldn’t have sent Ethan abroad for his swimming career! He wouldn’t have gotten so depressed and killed himself because he missed his father! Please, take it out on me! Ethan was so young when he died, and now we can’t even protect his memory! We failed him as parents!” Her hysterical cries ignited the long-suppressed guilt in Joey. He grabbed a whip and brought it crashing down on our son.
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