My son was hailed as a guitar prodigy. But on the day of the National Youth Virtuoso Competition, despite being the fan favorite with the highest online votes, he didn't win the grand prize. In a daze, he missed a step leaving the stage and plummeted to the floor below. I scrambled to help him, but my eyes caught a different scene: my wife, Evelyn, holding another boy aloft, a championship trophy in his hands. He was the son of her old flame. The producers and directors were laughing nearby. "It pays to be Evelyn Croft's son, doesn't it? A championship trophy, just like that." "Tell me about it. That kid, Chris, was incredible, but what can you do? No powerful mother, no connections." My heart shattered. I never imagined Evelyn would rig the competition against her own flesh and blood for the sake of another man's child. But my son, with blood streaming down his face, climbed to his feet. He grabbed my hand, his small voice firm. "Dad," he said, "I don't want this mom anymore." I squeezed his hand back, my own resolve hardening like steel. "Okay. If you don't want her, then neither do I." 1 Evelyn came home late. I had already coaxed our son, Chris, to sleep. She wasn't surprised to see me sitting in the living room. She walked over, cool as ever, and tossed a divorce agreement onto the coffee table. "You weren't happy with the last offer. I've raised your share to thirty percent of the assets. That should be enough, shouldn't it, Liam?" she said, her voice laced with condescension. "Don't be greedy." This time, I didn't beg her to stay. I calmly picked up the papers and read through them. Just as I expected, it was the same old story: the company assets remained untouched, and she was offering me a mere thirty percent of the remaining real estate and cash flow. But on what grounds? I was the one who built that company from the ground up. We kept our marriage a secret purely to stroke her ego and satisfy her vanity. I agreed to stay in the background, but not so she could hand everything over to her old flame and his son. I threw the agreement back on the table and looked up, meeting her smug, 'I knew it' expression. I just watched her for a moment, then asked the question that had been burning in my heart. "So, rigging the competition to steal Chris's championship today… that was also to force me into this divorce?" Evelyn flinched, surprised by my calmness. She recovered quickly, her usual arrogance returning like a shield. "I rigged it? What about you? Chris is naturally talented, but you pushed him into masterclasses, paraded him all over social media. If it weren't for your marketing, do you think a boy his age would have so many fans? Is that fair to Theo? All I did was level the playing field!" She spat the words out, a torrent of self-righteous justification. "Theo worked so hard for this! He deserved it! It's about time your son learned that talent isn't something to be proud of!" Her brazen defense was so absurd I almost laughed. Chris had prepared for this competition for three solid years. In those years, just mastering the difficult six-string tremolo technique had cost him countless hours of pain and frustration. He practiced even when he was sick, never daring to slack off for a single day. And his own mother… she only saw the "hard work" of another child. In her eyes, her own son's prodigious talent had become a flaw. Love and its absence—the difference was blindingly clear. Seeing my silence, Evelyn scoffed and sat down on the sofa, pulling off her silk scarf. "Pour me some water." I didn't move. As I looked down, her phone screen lit up. A text from her lover, Charlie: Did he agree? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Evelyn shot me a warning glare, snatching up her phone and typing furiously. After sending her reply, she grabbed her coat, ready to leave again. I stepped in her way, frowning. "Chris fell off the stage today. He hurt his head. As his mother, you're not going to stay with him? Where are you going?" "Chris fell? What is wrong with you? You do nothing all day, and you can't even watch a child properly? What are you good for, Liam?" My attempt to keep her here only earned me a tirade of blame. After she was done, she shot me an impatient look, clearly having no intention of staying. "I have something urgent to do. You take care of Chris." Her "urgent business" was, of course, spending time with Charlie and his son. As she walked to the door to change her shoes, not even glancing toward Chris's room, my fists clenched. "Evelyn, do you just enjoy being a stepmother that much?" She turned, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Watch your mouth, Liam. Theo is a sweet, innocent child. He deserves my love!" So, Chris and I were the ones who didn't? I watched her slam the door without a second thought, a cold smile spreading across my face. Fine, Evelyn. If that's how you want it, then you no longer deserve my mercy. That night, I didn't sleep in the master bedroom. I squeezed into Chris's small bed with him. He listened to my stories, told me his secrets, and for the first time, he didn't mention Evelyn's name once. I knew that, just like me years ago, he had finally given up on her. Truthfully, I had wanted to leave her ever since Charlie returned to the country, when she abandoned me with a raging fever to go pick him up from the airport. But Chris didn't want us to divorce. He didn't want to be the child of a broken home; he didn't want to lose his mother. I stayed only to protect him. But I never imagined Evelyn's favoritism for Charlie and his son would run so deep that she would be willing to hurt her own child. I gently stroked Chris's face, a profound sense of guilt washing over me. The next day, a heavy rainstorm swept across the city. The unusual silence at the breakfast table made Evelyn uncomfortable. She cleared her throat and stroked Chris's head. "Chris, how about Mommy drives you to school today?" I paused, my fingers hovering over the ride-share app on my phone. Chris didn't light up as Evelyn expected. He just glanced at the pouring rain outside and gave a quiet nod. His indifference made Evelyn frown. She stood up abruptly and dragged me into the kitchen. "Liam, did you say something bad about me to our son?" "No." I shook her hand off, annoyed. She sneered. "If you didn't, why is he acting like this? He used to love talking to me." A low chuckle escaped me. Yes, Chris used to love talking to her. Every morning at breakfast, he would chatter away, sharing everything he’d seen and learned. And how did Evelyn respond? Her patience never lasted more than ten minutes before she would put on a stern face and lecture him. "Chris, no talking while eating. We have rules at the table." Every time he heard that, Chris would fall silent, his face a mask of disappointment. Evelyn never understood that his endless chatter was the desperate plea of a son craving his mother's affection. Chris was not an unruly child; his mother was just too busy. She left early and came home late, always caught up in business dinners or overtime at the office. The only time Chris had with her was breakfast. She never realized that in this family, she was the missing piece. My quiet laughter grated on her. She grabbed me, her voice sharp with rebuke. "What are you laughing at? With your passive-aggressive attitude all day, no wonder you're a bad influence on him." I turned away and met Chris's gaze from the dining room. The fire in my chest instantly died down. "Nothing. I'm just happy for you. Chris listened to you. He remembered the rules of the table." "Is that so?" She didn't seem pleased by my answer. I ignored her suspicion and went back to the table, asking Chris in a low voice, "Are you sure you want Mom to take you?" He nodded his little head. "Yes. Every time it rains, Daddy gets his clothes and shoes all wet trying to protect me. I feel bad." I smiled and ruffled his hair, still worried about leaving him in Evelyn's care. "But the cut on your head…" Before we could decide, Evelyn's phone rang. After a two-minute call, she strode back over. "Chris, Daddy will take you today after all. Mommy has something to take care of." Without waiting for a reply, she rushed out the door. I looked at Chris with concern, but he wasn't sad or disappointed. He just shrugged and gave me a wry look. "Looks like my old man has to do the hard work again!" His humor made me laugh. I pulled him into a hug. "This old man is more than happy to. You're his favorite person in the world." After dropping Chris off at school, I got back into the taxi. Just as we were about to pull away, Evelyn's car pulled up beside us. She got out, opened her umbrella, and carefully walked around to the back door, helping Theo out of the car. Charlie followed, taking the umbrella from her and draping his arm casually around her shoulders. I frowned slightly. When had Theo transferred to this school? Evelyn carried Theo all the way to the school gate before putting him down. He tugged on her sleeve, and she obediently knelt. He leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek. Evelyn's smile widened, and she hugged him, kissing him back. What a picture-perfect, happy family of three. Her own son had never once enjoyed such treatment. I gave a sarcastic smile and urged the driver to go. But Evelyn and Charlie's good mood didn't last. Before the day was out, the story of the rigged competition exploded online. In less than 24 hours, headlines flooded social media. #YouthVirtuosoCompetitionGrandPrizeFixed? #BigCompetitionBigProductionBigScam? #FanFavoriteGuitarProdigyRobbedByJudgesOnLiveTV #FourPassesTheJudgesPet I clicked on one of the trending topics. The comments were a firestorm of outrage against the show and the judges. ARE YOU BLIND? The kid with the six-string tremolo was clearly on another level. His mastery of the instrument was insane. And the judges gave him a 3? If you don't need your eyes, donate them to someone who does. This is a complete setup. The other kid, Theo, was fine on the violin, but so by-the-book. The piece he chose wasn't even difficult. The third-place winner was more impressive. How did he beat Chris for first? He's only EIGHT. At an age when most kids can't even get a clean strum, he's mastering tremolos. I'm coming for you, director. Give him justice. Guys, stop arguing. A master detective online already dug it up. The kid named Theo's 'mom' is the personal assistant to the show's biggest investor. The championship was just a whisper away. Chris's online votes were miles ahead of everyone else in the semi-finals. The show claimed to be fair and transparent, so why did they suddenly hide the online voting results for the finale? Before I could scroll further, Evelyn called. "Liam, is this your doing? All this chaos online?" she seethed. "You've become so venomous. Just because you know your way around the internet, you're targeting a child?" "I'm warning you, fix this. Get all of this off the internet right now, or you will face the consequences!" She unleashed her tirade and hung up without giving me a chance to say a word. I stared at my phone and let out a bitter laugh. While Chris's fans had certainly fanned the flames, neither of us had the power to make this a national incident. Ultimately, this was a mess of Evelyn's own making. She wanted to rig the championship, but she’d spent the entire season boasting about fairness and transparency, making all the early votes public. When Chris's numbers got too high for even paid bots to catch up, she simply canceled the public vote for the finale and had the host read out some random numbers. Her scheme was sloppy, full of holes. And today's internet users are sharp. No one was going to let her get away with it. I had no ability to quell this storm. And even if I did, why should I help the son of her lover? I'm no saint. But I never anticipated how far Evelyn would go to protect Theo. She had the show's official account release a statement. The production team owes everyone an apology. Out of a desire to protect the children involved, we previously withheld certain information. Considering the current online harassment directed at young Theo, and after much deliberation, we have decided to reveal the truth. In fact, Chris cheated on the day of the competition. The backing track he provided was a full performance, and the guitar in his hands was a lightweight prop, which is how he was able to so easily perform the six-string tremolo with such fluency and rich tone. After this was discovered, Chris's father, Mr. Liam, begged the production team for mercy. Considering the boy is young and motherless, we did not want to ruin his future, which is why we arranged the results as we did. This was a failure of judgment on our part, and for that, we bow in apology to all our viewers. We will accept the criticism. We only ask that the public be kind to the children. The moment the statement was released, it was met with an even greater torrent of fury and derision. They said, No wonder a kid so young could pull off a six-string tremolo. It was a prop and fake playing. They said, I knew it. Even professional guitarists struggle with that technique. How could an eight-year-old do it? It was too good to be true. They said, So being motherless is an excuse to cheat? This father is clearly just playing the sympathy card. A kid like that deserves to be taught a lesson. … My fingers tightened around my phone, my whole body trembling with rage. Reading those comments, I knew, with absolute certainty, that they were from paid trolls hired by Evelyn, all meant to steer the narrative. Did she have any idea what this would do to Chris? She was trying to destroy his future. My eyes burning, I frantically dialed her number. The moment she picked up, her cold laughter came through the line. "Liam, you're scared now, aren't you? Well, I'm telling you, it's too late. Begging won't help. You did this to Theo first." I couldn't hold it back any longer. I roared into the phone. "Evelyn, Chris is your son! Your own flesh and blood! Are you trying to destroy him?" She scoffed. "Don't be so dramatic. It's a hobby. Even if Chris does nothing with his life, it's not like I can't afford to feed and clothe him. But Theo is different. He doesn't have a mother. That's tragic enough." "Anyway, I'm busy. I don't have time for this. I suggest you behave yourself and stop pulling these little stunts." This time, Evelyn had crossed my final line. I stared at the disconnected call, then walked into the bedroom. From the safe, I took out our marriage certificate, property deeds—every document that proved my relationship with Evelyn. I photographed them all. Evelyn, if I'm going down, I'm taking you with me. I was just about to upload the photos, to write the post exposing our relationship and outing Charlie as a homewrecker, when a call came from Chris's teacher. "Hello, Chris's dad? Something's happened to Chris at school. Can you please come right away?" Her urgent voice made my heart pound in my chest. I scrambled downstairs, calling a car on my phone. In my haste, I missed a step and tumbled down the stairs. Ignoring the pain, I picked myself up and kept running. As I reached the office door, I heard Chris's language arts teacher. "Principal, we can put off talking to the parents for a moment. The priority is to get the child to a hospital." What happened? Who's hurt? I was about to push the door open when Charlie's sharp voice cut through. "Ma'am, I know you're worried about the child's injury. But if you take him without a parent present, and something happens on the way, can you bear that responsibility?" "I've already told you, his mother is on her way. I'll pay whatever compensation they ask for. But if you take him now and his injuries get worse, I'm not going to be the one footing the bill for your mistake." "You—" The teacher was speechless with anger. I listened, frowning, my gut telling me Theo and Chris had gotten into another fight. But nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I opened the door. Chris was slumped in his teacher's arms, his face and lips ashen white. His hands were covered in blood, which dripped steadily onto the floor. He was shivering, as if chilled to the bone. "Chris! How did you get hurt so badly?" I rushed to his side, my hands hovering, afraid to touch him and cause more pain. When Chris saw me, his eyes instantly filled with tears. The dam of his composure finally broke, and he let out a heart-wrenching sob. "Daddy, it hurts so much." His teacher visibly relaxed and handed him over to me. "Chris's dad, hurry, take him to the hospital. He's been like this for almost an hour." I took my son from her arms, mumbled a "thank you," and turned to leave. But Charlie blocked my path. "Liam, I'm so sorry. Theo was just trying to play a joke on Chris, he never thought it would go this far. But don't worry, we'll compensate Chris for everything. Theo's mother is on her way. She's got money. You can ask for whatever you want." I didn't have the energy to figure out who the "mother" he was talking about was. All I wanted was to get Chris to a hospital. I shoved him aside without a second thought. "Get out of my way!" Charlie stumbled back, hitting his back against a desk with a pained grunt. Seeing this, Theo snatched a ruler from a teacher's desk and swung it down hard on Chris's injured hand. "Bastard! You hit my dad, I'll kill your son!" Chris screamed, a raw cry of agony. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
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