She Let Our Son Die for Her Lover

Isabelle said coldly, “Forget it?”

“He beat someone—should Victor’s blood be shed for nothing?”

“Go ahead. His life is worthless. There’s no reason to pity him.”

She turned and gently caressed Victor’s cheek.

“Does it still hurt?”

“It doesn’t anymore. It’s worth dying just to have you care.”

A wave of dizziness swept over me. My vision blurred as I stared at this pair.

They had drawn 900 milliliters of blood from my veins before I completely blacked out.

When I opened my eyes again, everyone was gone.

Covered in injuries, I was discharged from the hospital—just in time to arrange my son’s funeral.

After picking up his ashes from the funeral home, I went straight to the police station.

I wanted to file a report. But to my shock, Isabelle had already paid to have the surveillance footage in the area deleted.

The police said they couldn’t find any evidence for now. I had no choice but to wait.

I walked out of the station in despair.

It was the seventh day since my son died.

That same day, his class adviser called.

She wanted to know why he didn’t show up for the college entrance exam.

Fighting back tears, I told her he had passed away.

She was devastated.

My son had always been a top student and was expected to get into a prestigious university in the north.

She cried. I cried. No one could accept the loss.

Then a video call came in—from Victor.

He was shirtless, cigarette in his mouth, wearing only pants.

“Daniel, you coward. So you actually went to the cops?

Good thing, I was one step ahead. Isabelle paid the locals to erase the footage.”

“I told her I didn’t want anyone to see us screwing. She got the message quick.”

“Your son’s dead, right? You know how he died?”

He laughed, wicked and shameless.

“Isabelle was riding me at the time. I’m a great driver, you know—I kept going even while dragging your son’s body for hundreds of meters.”

“His clothes ripped before he was finally thrown off and died. So what if you know the truth? With your wife covering for me, no one can touch me.”

“Let me walk you through it again. Your son caught us cheating. Don’t hang up. Watch carefully.”

He hid the phone somewhere dark, where Isabelle couldn’t see it.

Seconds later, she entered the room in a skimpy nightgown and threw herself onto him.

What followed was unbearable to watch.

I gripped the phone tightly. No matter how I shouted, they couldn’t hear me.

But I could hear every word—her moaning, his smug voice—mocking me, mocking my dead son.

Isabelle was denying our son peace in death.

He couldn’t even begin the journey of reincarnation.

I wiped my tears and dialed an unfamiliar number.

“I want to sell my company shares. Email me the contract.”

“Isn’t your wife managing the company now? Will she allow it?”

“The legal ownership is in my name. It’s my company. She’s nothing.”

“You really going to throw her out like a dog?”

“Exactly. That’s all she’s worth.”

I didn’t just sell the company—I sold the house too.

I packed everything, took my son’s ashes, and left without turning back.

I planned to return to the countryside, to bury my son beside his grandparents.

Maybe they can take care of him now, wherever he is.

Meanwhile, just halfway through their little rendezvous, Isabelle and Victor received a call from the new assistant.

“Boss Carter! Bad news!”

“Carter just sold the company… to your greatest enemy.”