My Love Died On The Day My Son Died

After hanging up the phone, I quickly contacted a lawyer to draft the divorce papers. Kissing Emmet's forehead one last time, I wheeled myself out of the morgue.

When I returned to my hospital room, the police investigating the car accident were already waiting for me. He said, "We have partial surveillance footage from the scene of the accident. Would you like to take a look?"

"We've captured a blurry image of the suspect's face and if you can identify them, it would greatly help our investigation," a young female officer tentatively offered.

I nodded. The person responsible for Emmet's death had to be brought to justice.

Though I had braced myself for it, seeing the footage of Emmet's small body being repeatedly crushed by the car's wheels felt like someone was squeezing my heart with a brutal grip, making even breathing painful.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face as I gripped the bed sheets, suppressing the screams rising from my throat.

Every second I continued watching was like another knife slicing through my soul. Even though my vision blurred with tears, I forced myself to keep looking.

I was frustrated and said, "I can't recognize this person ... I'm so useless! It should've been me that died!" I pounded my head in agony, cursing myself for not remembering anything about this person.

The policewoman, unable to bear watching me hurt myself, stepped forward and embraced me. I finally broke down, sobbing in her arms.

The police said, "Miss Spears, don't blame yourself too much. The one at fault is the criminal, not the victim."

"The vehicle was using a fake license plate, which suggests this was a premeditated crime. We will get to the bottom of this. We've been trying to contact the child's father, but we can't reach him. Could you help us by getting in touch with him?" she continued.

At the mention of Scott, I remained expressionless. "I'm divorcing him, but I'll try," I said.

Everyone in the room gave me a look filled with even more sympathy. The lawyer was efficient and the divorce agreement had already been drafted.

I immediately forwarded it to Scott and called him, handing the phone to the police.

Unexpectedly, he answered right away and without hesitation, began yelling at me, "Kiera, are you serious about this? All I did was sign that organ donation agreement for Emmet. Is that worth divorcing over?"

"I've told you so many times that Gillian is having surgery today and I can't leave her side. Do you really have to cause a scene today of all days?"

The officer holding the phone was bewildered, struggling to find a moment to interject and said, "Mr. Spears, we are police officers investigating your son's car accident. Where are you right now? We need your cooperation."

Hearing a stranger's voice, Scott paused, "What car accident? My son is perfectly fine at school! It's your son who got in an accident!"

"Stop pretending to be the police. If you're the police, then I'm your chief!" Scott obviously didn't believe it and thought I was playing tricks on him.

After the police accurately and quickly reported a string of my family's information, the phone was silent for a long time.

Then Scott's ridicule suddenly broke out, "Kiera, the extras you hired are quite professional! They know their lines so well, how long have they been rehearsing?"

The officer looked at me, speechless. They'd never encountered someone so stubborn. Having lost their patience, they turned on the video feed, showing themselves in uniform. Even then, Scott remained incredulous.

"The school told us that during class, someone claiming to be the boy's father called and arranged for someone to pick him up. That's why they allowed him to leave," the officer explained after the video cut off.

We must find him and ask him face to face. I provided clues to the police.

Following the line of heart donation, Scott's whereabouts would surely be traced.