Divorced and Ruined My Son’s Killer

Amber’s Pov

“Who are you talking to, Amber?” Jason asked again, stepping closer.

I snapped the call closed and glared at him. “Why does it matter? Have I lost the right to private calls now?” I kept my voice sharp.

He gave a practiced, tight smile. “I was only checking on you. You stormed off so I came to see if you were okay.”

My lie came easily. “It was the PI. He called about my brother’s death.”

Jason’s jaw tightened. “Has he found anything?”

“He said he has a lead,” I lied. “He should have an answer to who killed him by the end of the week.”

Jason nodded, but his eyes darkened. He did not look relieved even though he tried to hide it.

“Amber,” he said, voice soft. “Chloe is a mother too. For the sake of her son, try to forgive her.”

I laughed, a short, bitter sound. “Her son? My son died. He choked in her car. Do you know how long it takes to suffocate? His fingers were broken from scratching the door. He cried and no one helped.”

My throat closed on the last words. The memory of identifying his tiny body made bile rise in my mouth.

“Our son is dead, Amber, but I won’t let you ruin Chloe’s life because of it. She saved my life!” Jason said fiercely.

I was mortified, “She donated her kidney four years ago to save you, you've done everything to please her and now you would sacrifice your own son too?!”

Jason reached for me. “I’m sorry, darling,” he murmured.

I pulled away as I grabbed my coat. “I’m going out. I need air.”

“Amber!” he called, but I ignored him and went down the stairs.

Chloe sat on the couch, a smug smile planted on her face. She looked up as I passed.

“Where are you rushing off to?” she asked, bright as a bell.

I pushed past. She stepped in front of me, blocking the door.

“Answer me,” she said. Then she laughed, cruel. “You’re going to lose everything. Soon your husband will be mine!”

“Get out of my way, Chloe.”

She cocked her head. “Or what? What are you going to do, Amber? You can’t do anything. You couldn’t even save your own son.”

My hands moved without thinking. I slapped her, hard. I grabbed her hair and shoved. She cried out sharp and loud.

Jason came flying down the stairs, eyes wide. “What did you do?” he demanded.

“What I should have done days ago!” I spat, and I ran.

My phone filled with missed calls and angry voicemails as I drove away.

“Come back and apologize to Chloe!” one voice shouted.

“How dare you hurt her, I'll kill you!” another screamed.

“Don’t make me make you regret this!” the next one came in.

“I’ve lost my patience, Amber, I've tried to be nice but you've pushed me. Whatever happens is on you.”

The last one sounded eerily calm and for a moment I was tempted to pick up the call but I ignored it and went straight to the lawyer.

“Mrs. Morales,” he said with the old courtesy. “Always a pleasure.”

“Start talking. What did you mean on the phone?” I demanded.

He slid a paper across the desk. My name stared back at me with my signature on a clause I never saw before.

“This says if you divorce Jason, he gets the company,” he said. “You signed it.”

“I didn’t sign that,” I said, panic rising.

“You did,” he replied. “You asked me to do what Jason wanted when you married. You agreed.”

A flash of memory hit me as I recalled the wedding night, a paper he’d asked me to sign claiming it was “just work.” I had trusted him then. I had signed without reading it.

“But why would he do this? He doesn't want us to get divorced or what? It doesn't make sense,” I frowned.

“It favors him,” the lawyer said. “If you divorce him, you lose your company. If he divorces you, he keeps seventy percent. If you die while married, the company still goes to him.”

My mouth went dry. I felt small, stupid, and trapped.

“I need the divorce papers by tomorrow,” I said. “Find a loophole.”

Before he could answer, my phone rang. It was from the hospital.

“Mrs. Morales, your mother—” the nurse began. “We’re scheduling to remove her corneas.”

I stood so fast I nearly fell. “What? No. Who authorized that?”

The nurse read from a file. “Your husband authorized the procedure, ma’am. You signed consent.”

“I never signed anything!” I said.

I was at the hospital a few minutes later, my heart pounding. My mother was admitted to the hospital three weeks ago after she had a heart attack and collapsed from the top floor. She's been in a coma ever since.

The doctor met me in the corridor with a calm face and a paper in her hand.

“Mrs. Morales, your husband signed. You agreed to donate—” she began.

“Who were those corneas for?” I demanded.

The doctor flipped a page. “Dr. Chloe Morales requested them for research,” she said, then added, quietly, “She is also a resident surgeon here.”

My skin went cold. “You will not touch my mother,” I said, loud and steady. “If anyone tries anything, I will sue this hospital into the ground.”

They backed off and I left with my hands shaking from anger.

By the time I got back home, my anger had not cooled. I slammed open the door and froze.

My sister sat before me. She was tied to a chair. Her clothes were torn. Tears streaked her face.

“Hello, Amber,” Jason said calmly, a cold smile on his lips. “I’ve been waiting.”