The Billionaire's Betrayed Wife My Revenge Rebirth

Before I could even bring up divorce, my son Asher Morton wrapped himself around my leg.

He looked up at me with teary eyes:

"Mom, please don't divorce Dad."

"I don't want to be some kid without a mom."

Zane was right about one thing.

Even if he let me go, I still couldn't leave.

My parents depended on the Morton family.

And my son needed his mother.

But he miscalculated.

That day, outside my mom's hospital room, I heard them plotting how to keep the lies going.

Inside, Dad was all smiles:

"I've been faking debt for so long—of course she has to behave and play the dutiful Morton daughter-in-law."

Mom chimed in, "And don't forget me."

"I'm not even sick. Checking myself into the hospital at the drop of a hat—have I ever complained?"

My son sat on Olivia's lap, pouting:

"I want Aunt Olivia to be my mom. Dad, why do I have to pretend I can't live without her?"

"Just get divorced already. Aunt Olivia is way better than Mom. She never nags."

"Grandma says Mom's just a hen that can't lay eggs. Only Aunt Olivia can give me a little brother."

Outside that door, the pain nearly suffocated me.

Zane's affairs had made the Morton family a joke in Graystone's elite circles.

My mother-in-law blamed me for not keeping my husband satisfied. She made me kneel outside in a Graystone winter.

All night.

When I woke from the coma, my baby was gone. So was my ability to ever have another.

My parents just nodded along, then urged Zane:

"Exactly. Son-in-law, why not switch? Madeline's always been inferior to her sister. She's not worthy of the Morton family anymore."

Zane said nothing.

He reached over, hooked Olivia by the neck, and kissed her—deep and greedy.

"Why would I switch?"

"Who else would be as pathetic as Madeline?"

"A little affection from me, a little pity act from you all, and she'll tolerate anything."

"A woman this stupid? Hard to find another one."

He was right. I had been stupid.

On the road, I clutched the signed divorce papers as tears dripped down.

But no one stays stupid forever.

I pulled out my phone and booked a flight abroad for three days later.

Then I posted the bedroom photos of Zane and Olivia online.

Why should they have all the fun?

After that, I got my hair done. Did a facial.

Everything in the mall I'd wanted but never let myself buy—I bought it all.

Then I returned to the Morton house, happy.

The moment I walked in, a crystal glass smashed into my head.

My temple screamed with pain. Tears sprang up on their own.

Warm blood slid down and dripped onto the carpet.

Mrs. Morton didn't seem to notice. She clutched Asher, glaring at me with pure hatred:

"Look at what kind of mother you are. Asher went to school without a coat today. Are you trying to freeze my grandson to death?"

This was Asher's usual trick.

He'd wake in the middle of the night claiming nightmares, saying my scolding had traumatized him.

He'd refuse to eat until he fainted, then tell Grandma I was starving him.

Every time, it gave Mrs. Morton an excuse to punish me.

Slaps. Kneeling. Whatever she felt like.

Asher would watch with a grin, sometimes adding:

"Mom, you're so useless. Aunt Olivia would never be like this."

Same old routine.

This morning, I'd put his coat on him myself.