He Made Me Wear Her Face. Now He Bleeds for Me

"Jake, don't! You'll kill her! She's still the mother of your child..." Claudia cried, though her eyes gleamed with something far from concern.

"A bitch who tricked me into marriage with a bastard—does she deserve to be called a mother?"

Jake's voice dripped with venom. He shoved Claudia's hand off his arm and stormed forward.

I barely had time to flinch before his fist slammed into my side. The impact sent me stumbling backward, my knees buckling as I crumpled to the floor. Pain shot through me, sharp and searing, but I curled around the urn in my arms, shielding it with my body like a lifeline.

Blood oozed from the corner of my mouth. I coughed, the metallic taste filling my throat, but I refused to let go. Tears blurred my vision, yet I gritted my teeth and choked out the truth. "Nathan really is your son..."

"Bullshit!"

Jake's roar was feral. He snatched a vase from the coffee table and hurled it at me with blind rage. The vase shattered against the wall beside my head, fragments slicing across my cheek. A hot line of pain bloomed there and I gasped, clutching my face with one hand while still protecting the urn with the other.

Claudia, ever the actress, cried out and rushed between us as if trying to shield me. But as she leaned in close, her lips brushed my ear and her whisper chilled me.

"Wendy, so what if you made yourself look like me? A fake will always be a fake."

I stared at her, my vision spinning, my heart cold.

Jake wiped the blood from his knuckles on a silk napkin with visible disgust. His lip curled. "Get that face of yours completely redone within a month, or don't blame me for what happens next."

Then he turned on his heel, wrapping his arm possessively around Claudia. Together, they walked out without a glance back. The door slammed behind them.

I sank fully to the floor, shaking. My hands, smeared with blood, trembled as I wiped my face. I forced myself upright, then carefully began to gather Nathan's ashes from the floor, whispering softly through a tight throat.

"Nathan, don't be scared. Mommy's here..."

I moved slowly through the house, packing what little I had left. His tiny clothes, his drawings, our photos—anything that bore even a hint of warmth—I folded them gently. Everything else, I threw into a bin. Some I burned, watching the flames consume the memories.

As I stood by the fire, watching it crackle and flare, I realized—strangely—I was grateful Jake had erased my legal identity. Without a marriage certificate, I could disappear without a trace. There would be no court battles. No farewells. No more lies.

When I finally stepped out the door, Emily was waiting.

Her eyes widened at the sight of my battered face. She reached out with shaking hands and gripped mine tightly, her tears falling fast and silent.

"Even if you and Jake can't be husband and wife... can't you be my goddaughter?" she asked through sobs. "Let me make it up to you..."

Her voice wavered with guilt and desperation, but I gently pulled my hand free.

"If I stay," I said quietly, "I'm afraid I won't be able to stop myself from killing Jake."

I turned away before I could see her expression. Behind me, I heard her sobbing—loud and unrestrained—but my heart remained still. Cold.

She had one son. For him, she was willing to sacrifice me.

And I had one son too. If Nathan were still alive, I would've given everything—my pride, my life—for him. But now that he was gone, I no longer needed to lie to myself.

I left the city behind.

In a quiet, misty town nestled between green mountains and glistening rivers, I found a small burial plot overlooking the water. Peaceful. Unassuming. It felt like the only kindness I could give him now.

On the day of the burial, soft rain drizzled from gray skies. I knelt before Nathan's grave, my hands resting on the smooth, polished headstone. My fingertips traced the photo etched into the marble, his smile frozen in time.

"Sweetheart..." My voice trembled. "Next time you're born again, make sure to choose parents who will truly love you..."

Far away, at the Lawrences' grand manor, Emily—pale and weak—had arranged a lavish funeral for Nathan. Guests gathered in solemn clusters, whispering and exchanging looks. But Jake never showed.

Her hands trembling, Emily dialed his number. "Jake... today is Nathan's funeral. You must come and see him off one last time..."

Jake scoffed on the other end. "Mom, can you stop playing along with that bitch's nonsense? I told you, I'm with Claudia now. Only death will separate us."

Emily gasped, her breath catching, but Jake didn't notice. His tone remained cold, dismissive.

"No one even noticed I swapped wives anyway. Why bother making a fuss?"

Her voice cracked. "You—you bastard! That was your biological son!"

Jake's fury exploded. "Biological my ass! You and that bitch fooled me for seven years! The DNA report's right there—he's a bastard! Even if he's dead, he's got nothing to do with me!"

Emily suddenly clutched her chest, her expression contorting in pain. The color drained from her face until it was almost ghostly white. Her breathing grew shallow, rapid.

On the other end of the line, Claudia's honeyed voice rang out with deliberate sweetness. "Jake, who is it?"

Jake didn't hesitate. "It's nothing. My mom's just being senile," he muttered coldly, then snapped into the phone, "Mom, if you keep this up, I won't mind cutting ties with you for good!"

The phone slipped from Emily's trembling fingers and clattered onto the floor. Her frail frame staggered backward a few steps. One hand gripped the edge of the console table; the other clutched at her chest. She gasped—once, sharply—then collapsed onto the carpet with a dull thud.

"Madam!" the butler's panicked voice echoed through the hall.

But that collapse was her last. Emily never opened her eyes again.

The Lawrence household was thrown into chaos.

Across the city, under the golden haze of a beachside sunset, Jake lay entangled with Claudia in the plush sheets of a private villa. The sound of waves crashing outside the open balcony doors masked the sound of a sharp intrusion—until the door burst open with a deafening bang.

"You bastard!"

A handbag struck Jake hard across the back.

He yelped, twisting away and scrambled to cover himself with a sheet. "Catherine?! Are you insane?" His face flushed with fury and disbelief. "First Mom and now you?! What is wrong with all of you?"

"I am insane!" Catherine's eyes were bloodshot, her usually elegant demeanor gone. Her voice shook with fury. "You killed your own son for this slut and now you've driven your mother to her death!"

She raised her bag again, this time swinging at Claudia.

Jake lunged to shield her, taking the full brunt of the blow to the head. The impact made him dizzy. He blinked rapidly, gasping for breath. "Catherine... what did you just say?"