After My Son's Death, I Destroyed The Wealthy Family

It was raining the day my wife drove our son to his college entrance exam.

Midway through the drive, she sudcdenly turned the car around and rushed to the hospital—leaving our son behind in the downpour.

She was pregnant. With her assistant's child.

My son couldn’t find a taxi. He ran in the rain, desperate not to be late.

He never made it.

A car struck him.

By the time I got the call and rushed to the hospital, he was already gone.

As I stood there, stunned, choking on my grief, my wife—Serena Portman—called me.

“Darling, I’m pregnant,” she said cheerfully. “It’s Ricky Joshua’s.”

“I drank too much that night on the business trip. But this child is still mine… I have to keep it.”

“You’ve always wanted a daughter, right? If it’s a girl, you can raise her.”

She continued, “Ricky’s thrilled—it’s his first time becoming a father. He wants to be there through it all. I’ll be staying with him for a while.”

“But don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you and our son when I get back.”

I wiped away my tears, steadied my voice and answered, “Mm.”

After my son’s funeral, I drafted the divorce papers and made a phone call.

“You’ve always wanted to bring down the Portman Family,” I said. “I won’t stop you anymore.”

——

The voice on the other end chuckled, doubtful.

“Mr. Addison, you’re the king of New York’s elite. Don’t joke. You’ve protected the Portman Family in secret for twenty years. Why would you suddenly let go?”

“I’m divorcing her.”

A pause. Then a stunned, eager response.

“You’re serious?”

“Back then, every heiress in New York was dying to marry you, but you snubbed them all just to marry into the third-rate Portman Family. You even made Serena the wealthiest woman in the province. And now you’re just… letting her go?”

I didn’t explain. I only said, “Don’t ask why. From now on, the Portman Family is on their own.”

The voice laughed in satisfaction.

“I’ve waited years to hear that. Serena always thought she was untouchable. If not for your protection, I’d have crushed her long ago.”

“Since you’re getting divorced, I’ll prepare a nice surprise for her at tomorrow’s Portman Group celebration.”

I had just hung up when Serena returned.

She hadn’t been home in three days.

She burst through the door and headed straight to our son’s room. Finding it empty, she turned to me.

“Why isn’t my son home?” she asked sharply.

“It’s fine for him to relax after his exam, but staying out this late? My son shouldn't be so wild.”

My gaze lingered on the strawberry mark on her neck.

“Do you even remember you have a son?” I said coldly.

She frowned, ready to lash out—but caught herself. Her tone softened.

“He’s still upset about me leaving him that day, isn’t he?”

“When he gets home, I’ll talk to him. He always listens to me. He won’t blame me.”

Yes. Her son always listened.

Because he knew how much she cared about grades, he stayed up late every night studying.

He was always top of his class.

Just the night before the exam, he told me with pride that he would get into Harvard or Columbia University—to make his mother proud.

And yet, it was his beloved mother who left him behind on the most important day of his life.

She caused his death.

I couldn’t begin to imagine the pain he must’ve felt when she kicked him out of the car that morning.

Fighting back tears, I said hoarsely, “You won’t be able to wait for him anymore.”

Her face darkened. “You’re his father. Don’t make a scene like him.”

Then, as if granting me a favor, she tossed a delicate gift box into my hands.

“Ricky’s a first-time dad. He’s really clingy right now and can’t stand to be apart from me.”