His Mistress's Puppy Over Our Dying Son

### Chapter 1

"Ms. Abbott, your son's having a heart attack. He won't make it. Please come to the hospital right away!"

For one second, the whole world went silent. I fell as if into a pit of ice, every drop of blood in me running backward.

My mother came running through the rain, only to be thrown fifty meters by a truck that had lost control. She died on the spot.

I knelt for a long time in the corpse-pale light of the hospital corridor, my son's cold little body in my arms, my mother lying broken in front of me. My heart felt like it was being torn in two while I was still alive. I coughed up a mouthful of blood and fainted.

When I came to, I saw Ellie Cooley's latest post, the caption brimming with happiness.

"Thank you, Stuart Weiss, for fighting through a whole day and night with me. I'm finally a 'mommy.'"

And the husband I had nearly gone mad trying to reach had left a tender comment beneath it: "Silly little thing, you worked so hard. I'm honored to be the godfather."

Numbly, I tapped a like and wrote, "Congratulations to you both."

One second later, Stuart called, his voice cold as he ordered, "Delete your snide little comment."

I bit down hard on my lip and sent him the hospital's location. "Stuart, come see your son—"

"One last time" never made it out before he cut me off, impatient. "It's just a routine checkup, isn't it? You go with him, that's enough. It's not like you're busy with anything."

I clenched my fist, nails biting into the flesh, and shouted at him, "Your so-called important matter is delivering Ellie Cooley's dog's litter?!"

"Are you sick? Now you're jealous of a dog."

The call cut off hard.

I wiped the tears from my face. If he wouldn't come, then I'd let the lawyer talk to him.

…

Today was Bradley Coleman's fifth birthday. When it happened, I was at home making the birthday cake he'd been waiting so long for.

Watching his body and my mother's pushed into the crematorium, realizing they were no longer in this world, that my son would never again taste a birthday cake I made, the pain stopped my breath.

"Ma'am, my condolences. Maybe something held Stuart up, that's why he…" Beside me, Stuart's colleague Lewis Cobb frowned, unable to hide his discomfort.

The pain knotted in me until I shook, tears falling one after another, and I said nothing.

My son could have been saved.

Lewis said that if Stuart, the heart specialist, had operated himself, my son would have had a chance.

He was my own flesh and blood. I wanted so desperately to save him. But I called until my phone died, and that man never once picked up.

It was the second night when I walked out of the crematorium. I pushed open the door of my home, swaying on my feet.

Stuart was sitting on the sofa, head bowed over his phone, a smile he couldn't suppress at the corner of his mouth. No need to guess—he was looking at the newest photos of Ellie Cooley and the dog.

His black suit jacket was tossed carelessly onto the rug by his feet, as if he took for granted I'd pick up after him.

He didn't lift his head at the sound of my steps, his tone carrying a trace of complaint.

"Where'd you run off to all day? I came back at noon and couldn't even get a cup of coffee."

I didn't answer. So he hadn't come home last night either.

Ever since Ellie Cooley came back to the country last year, he'd always been like this.

When Ellie Cooley woke from a nightmare, he'd drop everything to run over and stay with her in the middle of the night.

In his hurry that time, he forgot to lock the door properly, a thief got in, and the fright sent Bradley's heart condition flaring again. He spent a month in the hospital before he was out of danger.

When Ellie Cooley's dog was about to give birth, he could give up taking his son to his checkup.

He forgot Bradley's birthday completely, yet he'd taken a week off in advance to go be with her, as if her dog were the one he'd fathered.

Getting no response, Stuart finally looked at me.

When he saw my pale face, he stood up, his expression stiffening.

"Why do you look so awful? Did your son act up again and upset you?"

I turned my head away, dodging the hand reaching for my face, holding down the trembling all through me.

"I called you so many times yesterday. Why didn't you answer?"

At that, he drew his hand back and frowned at me.

"Seraphina Abbott, are you interrogating me?"

"Coco had a difficult birth. She's family that matters a lot to Ellie. In a life-or-death moment like that, how would I have time for your boring calls?"

"It was just an ordinary checkup. So you went with Bradley, so what? It's not like missing me would cost you anything."

Watching him stand there as if none of it mattered, disappointment swept over me like a wave and drowned me.

I wanted to scream that my son wouldn't lose anything—he was already dead!

And my mother, frantic with worry for her grandson, had hurried across the road and been hit by a truck, shattered to pieces. By the time she reached the hospital she was nothing but a pool of blood and flesh.

I held Stuart's eyes hard, and he shifted his gaze away, uneasy.

"Can you stop acting like a jealous shrew? Ellie and I grew up together. I only see her as a little sister. How can your mind be so filthy?"

I couldn't help but laugh. I was filthy?

He said he had no time to answer my calls, yet the moment I left a comment, he could call straight away to order me to delete it.

Terrified Ellie Cooley might be unhappy.

"Is it really just a little sister?"

"Because Bradley saw you kiss her with his own eyes."

It was at the very restaurant I'd booked for his birthday.

Last night the doctor handed me his belongings, and on his phone watch I found the photo my son had taken from outside the window.

He saw his father's affair with his own eyes, and the shock brought on his heart attack.

Even though the driver rushed him to the hospital right away, his small life still stayed forever at five years old that day.