Divorced by His Fake Cancer,Now He’s Begging for My Son Back

Piers's youth had been filled with her shadow.

In the end, Myra had torn them apart.

"She went abroad after that. I couldn't find her."

My eyes burned red, my voice thick with suppressed tears. "Then what about me? What was I to you?"

"If she was still in your heart, why did you agree to marry me?"

Piers panicked, stepping forward to grip my arms.

"No—Vera, you're the only one I love now."

"If you don't believe me, I'll delete all those photos."

And he did. Every single one.

He held me, apologizing over and over, swearing I was the only one in his heart now.

I believed him.

Until the day Minnie reappeared.

He cast me aside without a second thought.

My thoughts snapped back to the present. Piers was urging Myra to leave.

Once she was gone, he pulled a card from his pocket.

"What Grandmother gave you came from the Henson family."

"This card holds my personal assets. It's all for you and Terry."

I didn't refuse.

"It's what I'm owed."

Something like reluctance flickered in his eyes. He reached toward me, as if to stroke my hair the way he always used to.

"I'm sorry, Vera. I couldn't keep my promise to grow old with you."

"Next life, I'll make it up to you."

The sorrow in his gaze seemed genuine.

I found it laughable.

Perhaps he didn't know I'd already discovered Minnie's wedding plans.

Perhaps he thought his illness charade hadn't been exposed.

The eighth day of the new year—divorce first, then remarriage.

"Piers, we're getting divorced. Drop the act."

I gave him no face whatsoever, scooping up my just-woken son and heading for the door.

Piers sat motionless on the edge of the child's bed.

If he'd just been honest—admitted he'd fallen out of love, that he'd cheated—

I might have respected him a little.

The new year passed in absurdity.

Piers didn't appear again until the eighth.

From the servants' hushed whispers, I learned he'd been with Minnie the entire time.

On the eighth day, I stood at the Henson estate gates.

Piers pulled up in his car.

"Vera, there's really no rush. I can hold on a bit longer."

My expression was ice. I gestured for him to open the door.

"Let's go. The County Clerk's Office should be open."

Silence stretched between us the entire drive.

When we arrived, I didn't wait for him—just strode inside.

The new year had just ended; the office was nearly empty.

Our turn came quickly.

The clerk asked the standard question.

"Are you certain you want to divorce?"

I nodded.

"Yes."

Piers seemed startled by my certainty. His gaze found mine, tinged with reluctance.

"Vera..."

My mind was on Terry, alone at home. Impatience sharpened my voice.

"Are we doing this or not?"

Piers exhaled softly.

"...Yes."

After leaving the clerk's office, I hailed a cab back to the Henson estate.

The moment I stepped through the door, I heard Terry's screams.

My heart seized. I ran.

What I saw made my blood boil.

A girl of six or seven was straddling my son's small body, bouncing on him like he was a horse.

"Giddy-up!" she shrieked.

Not a single servant moved to stop her.

Terry's little face scraped against the rough floor, leaving raw, bloody trails across his cheeks.

His breathing grew faint. His voice, barely a whisper—

"Mommy..."

Rage exploded through me. I charged forward and shoved the girl off him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I pulled Terry into my arms, my heart aching as I checked him over for injuries.

"Lana!"

A woman's voice rang out behind me.

She rushed over and scooped up the little girl.

"Miss Harding, Lana is just a child. How could you lay a hand on her?"

I let out a cold laugh and slapped her across the face.

"She bullied my son. She deserved it."

Minnie's head snapped to the side, her hand flying to her cheek.

The next second, someone wrenched me away with brutal force.

"What the hell are you doing?" Piers demanded.

"It was just kids roughhousing. Do you really have to blow it out of proportion?"

"And Minnie was only worried about her daughter. Did you have to hit her?"

He hadn't held back when he grabbed me. I stumbled, clutching Terry, and we both crashed to the ground.

I looked up at him and smiled—but my eyes couldn't hide the devastation beneath.

"Piers, do you even remember you're Terry's father?"

"Look at his face. How can you say something like that?"

Piers went pale. He couldn't say a word.

I shot him one last icy glance, then gathered my son in my arms and walked toward the ancestral hall.

I pushed open the heavy doors and went straight to the family register displayed on the altar.

I flipped to Terry's page.

Son of Piers Henson.

Something dark flickered in my eyes. I raised my hand.

"Piers's wife—"