After His Ex-husband killed his son for his mistress, he went insane

Clara’s hands trembled violently as she gripped the divorce agreement tightly in her palms.

She immediately hailed a cab and went home to pack.

The moment she entered the house, she saw Liam kneeling on the carpet, carefully applying care oil to Vanessa’s belly as she lay on the sofa.

Vanessa blushed, coyly leaning toward Liam with a shy voice, “Liam, I just got pregnant. We don’t need to do all this yet…”

But Liam responded gently, “I want to do these things for you.”

Clara felt disoriented, remembering how five years ago, when she first got pregnant, Liam had treated her the same way.

When he learned she was expecting, the usually cold Liam had red-rimmed eyes as he pulled her into his arms, his voice full of pain and devotion. “Clara, I will love you and only you for the rest of my life. I swear I will never fail you…”

And these care techniques were ones Liam specially learned from a fertility specialist after finding out Clara was pregnant.

Yet now, all of them were used on another woman. Clara curled her lips in a bitter smile.

Just then, the two on the sofa noticed Clara. Liam’s once gentle expression instantly twisted into disgust. He stood and walked toward Clara. “Vanessa is pregnant. From now on, she will stay here to rest.”

“She is the new mistress of this house.” Liam tossed the bottle of care oil at Clara. “You’ve given birth before and have experience. Take good care of Vanessa.”

Clara did not reach for the bottle, letting it hit her and drop to the floor. She frowned and kicked it aside, letting out a cold laugh. “I should take care of her? Why?”

Liam’s face darkened further as he stared down at Clara from above. “Because you’re occupying the title of Liam’s wife, I can’t give Vanessa her rightful name!”

“Vanessa is the benefactor of this entire family. If you want to stay in this house, you’d better behave.”

Clara didn’t want to argue with him anymore and only wanted to pack her things quickly. She ignored Liam and walked straight toward the bedroom.

Liam’s reprimand sounded behind her, “Where did you hide Noah? People come to our house and don’t even know to greet them. He’ll have to call Vanessa ‘Mom’ in the future.”

Clara froze where she stood, her heart twisting into a painful knot, pulling at every nerve.

Clara thought of the scene right after Noah got off the Ferris wheel — the memory sent uncontrollable tremors through her body.

Noah’s face was pale, foam forming at the corner of his mouth, his little fingers weakly tugging at Clara’s clothes, “Mommy, don’t blame Daddy. It’s because Noah’s not healthy.”

“I’m sorry, Mommy, for making Daddy fight with you. Noah… will be better, so Daddy won’t punish Noah so much, okay?”

Clara clutched her son to her chest and ran frantically toward the hospital, tears streaming uncontrollably, nodding repeatedly. “Okay, Mommy promises, Noah. Don’t sleep yet, sweetheart…”

But in the next second, her son stopped breathing, dying in Clara’s arms.

Clara clenched her fists and turned back to yell at Liam, “Noah will never call anyone ‘Mom’ again — not in this lifetime!”

Vanessa stepped forward, clutching Liam’s arm with a soft sigh, “Liam, it’s okay. Clara has always looked down on me. The child she raised…”

“It’s normal if the child has issues with me. I’ll teach him properly.”

Watching Vanessa fuel the flames, Clara shook with rage. “Vanessa, you better watch your mouth!”

*Slap!*

Liam frowned and raised his hand, striking Clara across the face.

“Don’t shout at her.” Liam spoke calmly.

He picked up a tissue from the coffee table and wiped his hand repeatedly, as if he had touched something filthy.

“Vanessa is right — your parenting was the problem. You spoiled the child beyond recognition.”

Liam pulled Vanessa into his arms. “Starting tomorrow, Noah learns discipline.”

Neither of them looked back as they left the living room, leaving Clara standing alone in stunned silence.

Clara stumbled back to her room, her fingertips icy as though they’d been soaked in freezing water, trembling so hard she could barely hold the doorknob. She dragged out the largest suitcase from the top of the wardrobe — the one Liam had specially picked for her and newborn Noah. The off-white case still bore the faded crayon marks of a tiny dinosaur Noah once doodled; now, it felt like a dull blade slicing through her flesh.

“I’m leaving. I’m leaving right now. I’m escaping this place that eats people alive!”

The scream only echoed inside her mind, muffled into choked sobs.

Her hands moved uncontrollably, grabbing clothes in a frenzy — the couple’s shirts she once shared with Liam, the half-knitted sweater meant for Noah, the gown she wore when she received her award… She stuffed all these memories into the suitcase, as if cramming them in could quiet the despair clawing inside her.

But halfway through, she suddenly collapsed to the floor. Staring at the suitcase full of memories, tears fell without warning — packing used to mean Liam smiling while folding her clothes, Noah tugging at her skirt saying, “Mommy takes Noah too,” but now, she was alone in this cold house, fleeing in panic.

Crying, she eventually fell asleep, and nightmares crept in.

In her dream, Noah was being carried down from the Ferris wheel. His face was as white as paper, foam at his lips, his tiny hand still weakly gripping her clothes, his voice fragile enough to break. “Mommy, Noah hurts… Does Daddy not like Noah anymore?” She went mad trying to hold her child, only to feel that same piercing cold — Noah’s body stiffening little by little in her arms, until he turned into a wisp of smoke and vanished completely.

“Noah!”

Clara jolted awake, chest heaving violently, cold sweat soaking her back. Tears already covered her face, trailing down her jaw and dripping onto the sheets, leaving dark spots on the fabric. She tried wiping them away, but the more she wiped, the more they fell, grief flooding her like a tide — her Noah, the treasure she cherished for four years, didn’t even get to walk his final journey with dignity.

She could no longer sleep. She got up, staggering toward her son’s room. It used to be her safest place — every night she sat by the bed, telling Noah bedtime stories, watching him fall asleep holding his tiny dinosaur plush, his breathing steady.

The hallway was eerily silent, only her footsteps echoing through the hollow house. As she neared the door, she saw warm yellow light leaking through the crack — the little night-light she had chosen for Noah, saying it could drive away nightmares and protect him. Yet tonight, the glow felt painfully harsh.

She slowed her steps, heart pounding wildly, a terrible premonition stitching itself into her bones. She pushed the door open just a little wider — and what she saw froze her blood on the spot, like she had been thrown into an ice cellar.

Liam and Vanessa were lying in Noah’s little bed.