1 The day my wife, Isabelle, went to the airport to pick up her childhood friend, Ross, on his return to the country, our lives shattered. It started with something so small. Our two boys fell, and I helped my own son, Ryan, to his feet first. I didn’t get to Ross’s son, David, in that first instant. For that, she banished us. She sent my son and me to the Sanctuary of Mount Sorrow, a remote monastery, so I could, in her words, “learn the meaning of compassion.” In the gnawing hunger and bitter cold of that place, three years passed. And then, my son froze to death. On the day of his burial, Isabelle arrived at the Sanctuary. Ross was with her. She had come to take my son’s bone marrow. David had leukemia, and she needed to see if Ryan was a match. I told her our son was dead. She scoffed. “Three years, and you haven’t changed a bit. You’d go so far as to curse your own son just to avoid saving David.” Her voice was like ice. “Let me tell you something, Ross. I don’t care if you say he’s dead. Even if he is dead, I’ll dig up his coffin myself to see if his marrow is still viable.” … I was forced to stand at the monastery gates to welcome the distinguished guests. I never imagined that guest would be the very woman who had condemned my son and me to this suffering: my wife, Isabelle. I hadn’t seen her in three years. Her first words to me were, “So, have you learned your lesson?” I stared at her cold, beautiful face, the memory of that day flooding back. It was because two children had fallen, and I had helped Ryan first. She had just returned from the airport with Ross and saw the whole thing. She watched Ross rush to comfort David, and her brow furrowed in anger as she rounded on me, accusing me of being petty. “David is only staying with us for a few days until Ross gets settled. I can’t believe you can’t even tolerate that much,” she had said, her face a mask of disappointment. “Take your son and go to the Sanctuary. Meditate on your failings. You can come back when you’ve changed.” And so, Ryan and I were sent to this desolate place. We were starved of food, of warmth, and sometimes, we were attacked by wild animals from the surrounding forest. In all that time, Isabelle never visited. Not once. Pulled from my thoughts, I gave a numb, noncommittal, “Hn.” Her expression softened slightly, and she finally stated her purpose. “David has leukemia. I need Ryan to get tested as a bone marrow donor. For David’s sake, I’m willing to forgive you and personally take you both home.” My eyelashes trembled. I swallowed the bitter acid rising in my throat. “You can’t take him,” I said softly. “As for me…” A bitter smile twisted my lips. “I’m staying here. To be with my son.” Isabelle’s face instantly darkened. “What do you mean? You know David is dying, and this is how you act? Selfish and narrow-minded! This is a life, Ross! A life we can save!” She didn’t know that every word she spoke was another knife twisting in my heart. Ross, seeing the tension, stepped forward, his voice dripping with false humility. “Ross, I know you’re upset. That Isabelle sent you and Ryan here three years ago because of us. I’m… I’m so sorry.” He bowed his head. “If you’ll just let Ryan get tested, I’ll do anything for you. Anything.” Isabelle immediately grabbed Ross’s hand, her voice softening as she spoke to him. “You don’t have to beg him. He was the one in the wrong. I carried Ryan for ten months. I gave birth to him. Ross has no right to deny me this.” Her gaze, when it returned to me, was burning with fire. I simply stared back. After a moment, Isabelle took a deep breath and barked an order at the men she’d brought with her. “Find Ryan. Tear this place apart if you have to, but you will find him.” She glared at me, her jaw set. The monks who had gathered to watch exchanged uneasy glances. The abbot, Father Michael, finally stepped forward. “Blessings upon you, madam,” he said to Isabelle. “It is not that Ross is unwilling, it is simply that…” Isabelle cut him off with a cold laugh, her eyes still locked on me. “That what?” Father Michael sighed, a deep, mournful sound. “The young boy, Ryan… he passed away from the cold seven days ago.” Isabelle froze for a beat, and then her face contorted with rage. “Ross,” she hissed, her eyes black holes of fury, “is Ryan dead?” I said nothing, my silence a confirmation. She swept her arm across a nearby table, sending a jar of pickled vegetables crashing to the floor. “Ross! I can’t believe it! After three whole years, you’re still the same pathetic man! You’d curse your own son, claim he’s dead, just to keep him from saving David!” “I’m telling you, I don’t care if he’s dead or alive! Even if he’s in a coffin, I’ll have it dug up and pry his bones apart myself to see if his marrow can be used!” 2 A resolve as hard as steel shone in Isabelle’s eyes. She couldn’t fathom how the gentle, kind Ross she knew could have become this unrecognizable stranger. On the drive up to the monastery, she had been filled with hopeful visions of their future together. She had planned to tell him that sending him and Ryan away had been a necessary evil. Three years ago, her company, Fourier Corp, had been on the verge of collapse. To stabilize it, she’d had to enter into a sham marriage with Ross. Sending Ross and Ryan to a remote, safe place under a flimsy pretext had been the only way. She had always intended to bring them back. But the work at Fourier had been relentless, and she’d put it off, day after day. She had assumed that Ross, with his soft, forgiving nature, would melt with a few apologies and a little sweet talk. He always had. He had always spoiled her. As for Ryan… she resented him for stealing Ross’s affection after he was born, but he was still the product of their love. She was willing to win him over, too. Ryan loved to eat and play; she had already commissioned a private amusement park to be built for him. She was certain the little rascal wouldn’t be able to resist such a bribe. She would make up for the hardships they had endured. Then David was diagnosed with leukemia. The thought that Ryan’s marrow could be a match had kept her awake for nights, giddy with excitement. It was the perfect, public reason to finally bring her family home. But Ross had changed. He was lying. He said Ryan was dead. Frozen to death. What a joke. While she hadn’t visited in person, she had sent a truckload of supplies every single month. She’d made sure they wanted for nothing. It was this blatant, clumsy lie that enraged her so deeply. The more she thought, the angrier she became. She strode forward and grabbed my wrist, her grip like a vise. She stared at me, her thoughts a silent scream: Give me back my gentle, kind Ross. He’s not like you. After a long moment, her eyes grew red. She loosened her grip slightly, still afraid of hurting me. Just admit it now, Ross, she thought, her heart pounding. Just apologize, and I’ll forgive everything. She watched my face, her own lips trembling with tension. Then, I opened my mouth. “Isabelle,” I said, my voice hollow. “Our son is really dead.” “You killed him.” “If you hadn’t been so blind, so stubborn, if you hadn’t sent us to this hellhole, he would still be alive.” Every word was a spike driving through her heart. He wasn’t just lying; he was trying to blame her. This man was no longer the Ross she knew. She dropped my hand completely, her head slumping in defeat. When she looked up again, her face was a mask of cold determination. She was about to speak when one of her men ran up to her, breathless. “Ma’am, we’ve found the young master!” I didn’t understand the expression on Isabelle’s face. It was as if I was the one in the wrong. “Ross, I’ve found him,” she said, her voice dripping with disappointment. “Are you still going to stand there and lie to my face with such conviction?” I stared at her for two seconds, and then I began to laugh. A wild, broken sound. Isabelle’s brow furrowed. I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. “Isabelle, why don’t you ask them what they found?” A flicker of doubt crossed her face. She looked at her man, but he quickly avoided her gaze, his own face pale and frightened. A sliver of panic pierced through her composure as she looked back at my dead-eyed expression. She steadied herself. “Bring Ryan to me.” The seconds stretched into an eternity. Finally, her men returned, carefully carrying a small, crude wooden coffin. It was deep winter, and the monastery was high in the mountains. Even after seven days, my son’s body was perfectly preserved. He lay there with his eyes closed, looking so peaceful, as if he were only sleeping. The color drained from Isabelle’s face. She staggered back. “How… how can this be?” Ross, who had been standing silently by her side, grabbed her arm to steady her. He gave her what he must have thought was a reassuring look, then turned to me. “Ross, I know you hate us, but you shouldn’t have gone this far. To make your own son lie in a coffin just to sell a lie…” He shook his head disapprovingly. “I know we’re all modern people, but this is… it’s a bad omen. Please, have Ryan get up.” I stared at him, my eyes wide with disbelief. Then, I smiled. I couldn’t imagine how a person could twist reality so completely. But Isabelle… she believed him. She peered into the coffin again, at our son’s serene, sleeping face. She wrenched her arm from Ross’s grasp. The next thing I knew, a searing pain exploded across my cheek. I looked at her, stunned. Her face was stone. “Ross, you’ve truly lost your mind.” Her voice was a low snarl. “I don’t know how you found out I was coming today, how you managed to stage this entire drama for me. Is this your revenge for what I did three years ago?” “Fine! You want the truth? I’ll give you the truth! It was for the company! Do you have any idea who Ross is, his status? Our ‘marriage’ allowed me to save the company. And you? What good are you? And you dare to orchestrate this elaborate play to guilt me?” she spat. “And our marriage was fake anyway!” “I don’t care if Ryan is dead or alive. He will donate his marrow to David. And if he is dead, I’ll crack open every bone in his body until I find some that’s still usable!” I just stared at the venomous creature in front of me. A morbid curiosity rose within me, and I asked the question aloud. “Isabelle, why are you so sure Ryan and David will be a match?” I expected her to falter, to show some sign of guilt. She didn’t even blink. “Don’t play games with me, Ross. I’ll tell you the truth. David is my biological son. And so is Ross’s.” “Ross’s family demanded he produce an heir before they would hand over the family business. He didn’t have anyone he truly loved, so to help him, I agreed to have his child.” “But I’m not as sordid as you think. I didn’t want to hurt you, so the child was conceived via IVF. I lied and said I was going overseas for a project for a few months. I was protecting your feelings.” I stared at her, my voice cold as the grave. “So you did all this… for me?” Isabelle’s face twisted in a look of pain. “Because I truly love you, Ross.” “As long as you repent, as long as you let Ryan save David, our family can go back to how it was before.” I closed my eyes, fighting back a wave of pure rage. When I opened them, my voice was flat. “Isabelle, our son is dead. Why can’t you accept that?” “Our family? The moment Ryan died, this family shattered into a million pieces. Isabelle, I want a divorce.” The words hung in the silent air. No one dared to breathe. Isabelle looked at me in disbelief. “A divorce?!” Her eyes darted around the courtyard, and her gaze fell on a young woman in the corner, a local herbalist, who was staring at me with open concern. Understanding seemed to dawn on Isabelle’s face. She turned back to me, her voice laced with arctic cold. “It’s because of her, isn’t it? You made up this entire story to trick me, all so you could divorce me and be with her.” “You’re insane,” I gritted out. She studied my face for a few seconds, and then a slow, chilling smile spread across her lips. “Fine,” she said coldly. “If Ryan is truly dead, then I’ll grant you a divorce.” She paused, her eyes glittering. “But if he’s not, you will never be free of me. Even in death, you will be buried in my family’s ancestral plot!” “Now,” she mused, her voice dangerously soft, “how shall I expose your lie?” Just then, a faint meow came from the corner. Everyone turned. Ross’s eyes lit up. He leaned in and whispered in Isabelle’s ear, “Isabelle, that’s the cat Ryan was always taking care of. He loved that thing more than anything. He wouldn’t be able to stand seeing it hurt.” Isabelle’s gaze fell on the scrawny Ragdoll cat, and her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. Seeing her hesitation, Ross pulled back, his head bowed. “You don’t think I’m being cruel, do you? Using a little cat as a bargaining chip…” He sounded ashamed. Isabelle looked from him to me, and a bitter smile touched her lips. “Ross was willing to curse his own son. What you’re suggesting is nothing.” I heard the sneer in her voice but could barely react. My heart gave a slow, heavy thud. It was becoming difficult to breathe. Suddenly, the cat let out a piercing shriek. I looked up.
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