After my four-year-old son died from illness, Ethan Ford, who had been on a business trip to Europe, finally came home. At the funeral, he tried to console me: "Don't worry, I won't blame you. If you want a child, I'll bring one home tomorrow." My whole body stiffened. I looked up at him in disbelief. "What are you talking about?" He said nonchalantly: "I have a child with another woman. He's only six months younger than Tommy. If you don't mind, we can bring him home and you can raise him as your own." "Besides, the kid's mom is too young—she's like a child herself, always playing around. I'd feel better if you took care of him." My nails dug deep into my palms, my voice trembling: "Who is this woman?" He smiled. "She's a nurse from the maternity ward. When I took you to the hospital to give birth, she fell for me at first sight. We slept together in the room next to the operating room. I know I wronged you, but she was young and sexy. She came onto me first, and I couldn't resist." "Slap—" Before I knew what I was doing, a bright red handprint appeared on his face. Ethan covered his swollen cheek and ran his tongue over his teeth. "Is that really necessary? I only told you this because I thought you were too upset. If slapping me once makes you feel better, go ahead." With that, he turned his head, offering me his other cheek. "Go on, hit me. Why'd you stop?" All my anger evaporated in that moment, leaving only helplessness to drown me. My voice was hoarse as I stared at him, tears streaming down my face. He sighed impatiently and said: "Men cheating is pretty normal, isn't it? How many men spend their whole lives devoted to one woman?" "Besides, I didn't even bring her home. You've lived comfortably as a rich man's wife all these years. Isn't that enough?" As soon as he finished speaking, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, blowing smoke in my face. I suppressed my emotions and asked in a trembling voice: "Then why are you telling me now? Why tell me the truth right after my son just died! You've been lying to me for five years—why couldn't you just keep lying forever!" Tears pooled in my eyes. I tilted my head back slightly, refusing to show weakness. Ethan raised an eyebrow and suddenly laughed mockingly. "Like I said, she's too young to take care of a kid. Now that the child's older, he needs education and parental guidance." "Besides, your son just died. You can't handle this blow. If I bring a child home to keep you company, it'll help you move past your grief." He crossed his arms over his chest and added carelessly: "Two birds with one stone. Don't you think?" Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his expression instantly softened. He patiently typed out a reply. Perhaps now that the truth was out, he didn't bother hiding anymore. I glanced sideways and saw the chat name: "My Only Treasure." I stared at that profile picture for a long time. The same picture existed in my own chat list. During my third trimester checkup, a nurse named Melody Smith said I reminded her of her sister. Her sister had died from complications during childbirth, and Melody had lost her last family member. Out of sympathy, I added her on SnapChat.
She said I could message her anytime if I felt unwell. But I was afraid of bothering her, so I never sent a single message. All the details connected in this moment. My seven-year marriage was a joke. In my ears, I could hear Melody's sweet, flirtatious laughter: "You're so mean! Don't call me dumb. If I hadn't been trying to cook for you, I wouldn't have burned my hand. Instead of feeling sorry for me, you're going to 'punish' me by not letting me use my hands tonight? If you keep this up, I'm going to get mad!" Ethan wanted to smile, but when he caught sight of me still standing nearby, his expression quickly turned cold. "I have some things to handle at the office. I'm leaving. Deal with your son's funeral yourself and go home when you're done." The guests had long since noticed the tension between us and were now waiting to watch the drama unfold. Ignoring my own dignity, I shouted at his retreating back: "If you walk out that door, we're getting divorced!" Ethan stopped in his tracks. Seeing everyone's eyes on him, his face darkened. "Shut up!" "If you're not embarrassed, I am!" "If you have something to say, say it at home. Don't make a scene here!" I laughed like a madwoman, grabbing his collar and pointing at our son's portrait. "Our son just died, and you can't wait to run off to your mistress and your bastard child. You're embarrassed? What right do you have to be embarrassed!" "For seven years, you said you were busy with work, that you needed to develop business overseas. I handled everything at home alone—I was both father and mother. I could only sleep four hours a night." "When our son had his accident, I was doing housework. I looked away for one second and he ran outside and got hit by a car. Where were you then? Talk at home? When have you ever been home!" Tears I could no longer hold back poured down my face. But Ethan just frowned. "Are you done? I'm leaving." He turned and walked away with long strides, never looking back. The guests swarmed around me, offering hollow comfort: "That's enough. Men are all like this. Every family has problems. Mr. Ford has such a big business—it's inevitable women throw themselves at him. Just be patient and it'll pass." "Exactly. My husband doesn't even have money and he still chats with women. Now I just turn a blind eye. Life goes on." They spoke words of comfort, but each one was a needle stabbing into my heart. I wasn't made of wood—of course I'd felt Ethan's change. In our seven-year marriage, I'd imagined countless times how our relationship might end. But I never imagined it would cost me my son's life. I didn't want to be laughed at anymore. I hastily ended the funeral and went home. As soon as I walked through the door, I collapsed on the floor, drained of all strength. With trembling hands, I opened Melody's social media feed. Only now did I realize every post had a hidden meaning. During my last prenatal checkup, she'd posted a photo of a positive pregnancy test. Caption: "He says this is a surprise from heaven. The baby and I are the most important people in his life." When I was in postpartum confinement, Ethan said he had to go on a business trip. And during that month, Melody updated her feed almost daily. "He says I'm more important. He doesn't know that to me, he's the most important person in the world." "When true love comes, heaven gives you a sign. This time, I heard it." "Thank you for leaving everything behind to be with me. I hope you'll be with me for the rest of my life." ... I tortured myself by reading through them one by one. Many photos included Ethan's silhouette in the background. Back then, I never paid attention—I just assumed Melody was dating some secret boyfriend. Looking at them now, I realized how ridiculous I'd been.
The day our son died in a car accident, Melody was at a five-star hotel hot spring. In the photo, she wore a sexy bikini that barely covered her body. In the corner of the photo was a man's hand holding a wine glass. Caption: "Thanks to my CEO for personally serving me. I'll definitely reward him well tonight!" The blood drained from my face. Like a madwoman, I bombarded Melody with messages. "Where are you? I need to see you." She replied instantly: "What's wrong, Evelyn? Why the sudden need to see me? My husband's all over me right now, so I can't get away." She sent a candid photo. Ethan had his head buried in her chest, surrounded by countless red marks. My heart went ice cold. After a long moment, I typed out a message. "This coffee shop. I'll wait for you until you show up." I stared at the coffee in front of me, the ice long melted, for three hours. Melody finally appeared. Wearing a sexy slip dress that deliberately exposed the marks covering her neck and chest. As soon as she sat down, she greeted me with a coquettish laugh. "Sorry I'm late, Evelyn." "Oh my, I was in such a rush leaving the house, I forgot to cover these up. But you're married too, so you understand, right?" I forced myself to smile. "Looks like things are good between you and your husband? Still so sweet after marriage—that's rare." Her cheeks flushed to her ears, but her voice rose several notches. "My husband's been obsessed with me for five years and still isn't tired of me. Honestly, he's getting annoying. I only managed to slip out by saying I needed to buy something. I don't have much time, so just say what you need to say." Rage slowly consumed my rationality. I picked up my coffee and threw it directly in her face. Melody screamed and jumped to her feet. "Evelyn Wright, are you insane! Why'd you throw that at me!" "You slept with my husband and destroyed my family, and you have the nerve to show your face in front of me? Throwing coffee is getting off easy!" I shouted with every ounce of strength I had. Everyone in the coffee shop turned to stare at Melody, pointing and whispering. Her expression of anger froze on her face. In an instant, it transformed into a pitiful look. "Evelyn, what are you saying? My husband is married?" "I didn't know. I really didn't know. If I'd known he was married, I never would have gotten together with him! I was deceived too!" "I even had his child... How could this happen? My whole life is ruined!" With that, she covered her face and ran out crying. Before I could react, the crowd's judgment rained down on me. The same people who'd sympathized with me moments ago quickly changed their tune. "The poor girl didn't even know your husband was running around. Why are you being so aggressive?" "Exactly. She even had his child. Her whole life is ruined. The girl's a victim too." "Can't control your own man, so you come here to bully a young girl. No wonder your husband doesn't like you!" I wanted to explain that wasn't how it happened. But no one believed me. Security threw me out on the spot. Someone had filmed my confrontation with Melody and posted it online. The video went viral. The comments were filled with insults. I, the actual victim, became the target of everyone's hatred. I wandered the streets like a lost soul, not knowing where to go or what to do. I thought today's meeting would make Melody back off, would make Ethan return to his family.
But I was wrong. Terribly wrong. A woman willing to be a mistress would never be that simple. After walking for who knows how long, a black Maybach suddenly stopped in front of me. Ethan rushed out of the car and slapped me without a word. "You have the nerve to be out shopping? Do you know you almost killed Melody!" My face pale, I looked up at him in confusion. His chest heaved violently with anger. "Because you went to see Melody this afternoon, people called her a homewrecker and she went to a bar to drink. She ended up getting raped!" "She smashed a bottle and tried to kill herself by cutting her wrists. She just got out of surgery and isn't out of danger yet!" "Evelyn Wright, when did you become so vicious? The affair was my doing. If you're angry, take it out on me. Why hurt Melody? She's innocent!" Tears blurred my vision. The man standing before me, calling me vicious, could no longer overlap with the young man who once knelt to propose, swearing he'd protect me forever. I bit through my lip, eyes red as I screamed: "She's innocent? What about my child? Wasn't he innocent?" "You cheated and left me to care for our child alone. My son was only five years old. Why should he pay the price for your affair!" My heartfelt words only earned me another, harder slap. I lost my balance and fell down the steps. My ankle swelled immediately, the bone likely broken. Ethan gave the bodyguards a cold order, not even sparing me a glance: "Take Mrs. Ford to the hospital and make her kneel. When Melody is out of danger, she can get up!" In the hospital corridor, two bodyguards forced me to my knees. Both sides of my face were swollen, but I couldn't even feel the pain. Five hours passed before Melody finally opened her eyes. Ethan walked past me and comforted her with gentle concern. In seven years of marriage, I'd never seen him like this. My heart ached to numbness, as if being twisted by a dull knife. The two talked about something, and Melody covered her face, crying uncontrollably. Ethan took her phone, looked at it, and became so angry he smashed it on the spot. The screen shattered into pieces. He strode toward me, grabbed my collar, and dragged me in front of Melody. "Evelyn Wright, did you release that video? Did you hire those trolls?" "Won't you be satisfied until Melody's dead! She just woke up and even agreed to let you raise her child, but you still won't leave her alone!" The phone with its spider-webbed screen was playing a video. In the footage, Melody lay unconscious from alcohol while several men stood over her, violently tearing at her clothes. At the critical moment, the camera was covered by someone's clothing. But sickening sounds could be heard. Melody's face went white. She broke down crying: "Don't stop me. Just let me die!" "Everyone online is saying I deserved it for breaking up someone's family. This is my punishment!" "Give the child to Evelyn to raise. Don't let him know what kind of shameful person his mother is!" With that, Melody yanked out her IV needle and raised her hand to stab it into her neck. Ethan reacted quickly, reaching out to block it. The needle pierced straight through his hand. His cold gaze locked onto me like a demon from hell. "Evelyn Wright, are you satisfied now?" "Someone take Mrs. Ford out of here!" I struggled desperately: "Let me go! Where are you taking me? It wasn't me—I didn't do anything!"
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