After Husband Chose His Mistress Over Our Son,I Wed a Billionaire, He Regrets

Mr. Stephens, I'll agree to remarry into the Mason family of Harbor City and become a luck-bringing bride for that comatose man. But only if you agree to three conditions first.

The man on the other end of the line let out a sigh, his voice laced with reluctance. Cindy Stephens, I'm your father. That secret marriage of yours to the Vance family meant nothing to them from start to finish. Sending you to the Masons is for your own good

Enough. Spare me the self-pity. I cut him off, my patience gone. Are you going to agree or not?

Mr. Stephens's tone turned heavier. Fine. Tell me.

I gripped the phone, spacing out each word. First, get me the divorce papers from Stanley Vance. And don't tell me you can't. You managed to throw my mother out of her own family with nothing but the clothes on her back, and she was an heiress. You have your ways.

Second, get Sammy's ashes back for me. But Stanley can never know it was me who asked.

Third, I want a disownment letter from you. Once I go to the Masons, we never speak again as long as we live.

I paused, then added, The Masons handed you a thirty-billion-dollar project. I'm sure you can manage it.

The line went silent for a long moment before Mr. Stephens finally gave in. Fine. Everything you asked for, I'll grant it. As long as you marry in quietly and behave.

My birthday is in five days. Come home and have one last meal with me.

The call ended, and I let out a long breath.

This absurd six years was finally coming to an end.

A week ago, I'd still been taking my son Sammy to register for kindergarten. That day his whole face had lit up as he told me, Mommy, once Sammy graduates from kindergarten, Sammy can protect you!

But that very day, a kidnapping took his life forever.

The moment I learned Sammy had been taken, I ran eight red lights to get to the scene. I was still one step too late.

By the time I arrived, I watched with my own eyes as a kidnapper put a bullet through Sammy's head. The shock seized my heart, my vision went black, and I collapsed.

When I came to, I didn't eat or drink for three days. Then one afternoon, dozing, I overheard two nurses talking as they passed.

That young couple in the VIP private room upstairs is so devoted. The guy hasn't left his girlfriend's side for a second. I wish I had a boyfriend like that

You don't get it. He's worried she'll be left with trauma. She was one of the hostages in that kidnapping four days ago, you know. The only one who died was the little boy. Such a shame

Hey, you two, don't go spreading this around. I just overheard something on the inside. They say the kidnapper was an enemy of the Vances, and he made Mr. Vance choose between the two. And Mr. Vance chose that young woman

Their voices faded down the hall. My eyes snapped open, fixed on the ceiling, refusing to look away.

If everything they'd said was true, then my Sammy

I'm not the kind of person who sits and waits to die. The instant that rumor reached me, I went straight to someone I trusted to dig into it.

In just three hours, I knew exactly how it had all happened.

That day the kidnapper had taken two people. One was Sammy. The other was a young woman, barely past twenty, they said.

When the kidnapper forced Stanley Vance to choose, he picked that woman without a second's hesitation. His own flesh-and-blood son, he didn't so much as glance at.

Crushed with grief and fury, I took the file from the investigation and went to confront Stanley.

But at the stairwell of the emergency exit, I heard his voice.

Sam is only twenty. Her life is full of possibilities. As for Sammy, whether he's even mine is hard to say.

The words sent the blood rushing backward through my veins.

Sammy was born at eight months, premature, because Stanley's family had taken their anger out on me. That was what triggered the early labor.

No matter how anyone twisted it, Sammy was Stanley's own son.

But now

Another voice spoke up, one that clearly disagreed. It was Stanley's brother, Stuart Wiley.

But you clearly had a chance that day to save both of them. Sammy looks a fair bit like you. How could you have the heart to abandon him? And then claim he isn't even your son? If Cindy ever heard you say that, it would destroy her.

Stanley leaned back against the wall, balanced on one leg, and answered with careless ease. Sam told me. No pregnant woman gives birth at just eight months. I believe her.

Besides, even if Sammy really was my child, his death drumming up publicity for the Vance Group is more luck than he earned in eight lifetimes.

His death was worth it.

I stood at the corner of the entrance, clamping a hand hard over my mouth so not a single sob or word of grief could escape me.

My heart felt like a sharp dagger had been dragged across it, slicing it open, blood pouring out.

And every word Stanley spoke was another fine, barbed thorn, driving deep into my heart until I couldn't breathe.

I don't know how I left. By the time I came back to myself, I'd received a message from Mr. Stephens.

The Mason family of Harbor City is interested in marrying you. Think it over.

After three days of thinking, I agreed.

I finished the discharge paperwork and caught a cab home.

Standing at the door, I felt the world blur for a second.

Six years ago, for Stanley Vance, I'd agreed to a secret marriage without a second thought and moved into this little villa. Back then I was sweet on him, happy, my heart full of dreams about the future.

But six years had passed, and all of it was long gone.

I keyed in the passcode. Wrong password.

My hand froze halfway to pulling back.

I'd entered that string of numbers more times than I could count, could punch it in with my eyes shut, and now it told me I was wrong?

Refusing to believe it, I tried again. Wrong password, still.

While I stood there at a loss, the door opened from inside.

It was a delicate-looking girl. I'd seen her before, in the file I'd had pulled.

Samantha Pruitt. A freshman who'd just been admitted to Capital University.

The moment she saw me, the malice in her eyes was unhidden, even as her mouth curved into a sweet smile. "Hey, lady, who are you looking for?"

The year I married Stanley, I was only twenty too, soft and young like the girl in front of me.

It had only been six years since then.

I knew Samantha was trying to humiliate me on purpose. I couldn't be bothered to spar with her.

Just as I moved to step inside, Samantha suddenly grabbed my hand and leaned close to my ear, whispering fast. "What you gave birth to was a bastard. It didn't deserve to live."

Before it could even register, she yanked my hand hard.

By the time I came to my senses, Samantha was sprawled on the ground, clutching her belly, screaming in terror. "Stanley, my stomach hurts so much..."

Stanley arrived fast, and trailing behind him were several reporters hauling cameras.

He helped Samantha up, his eyes full of concern. "Are you okay? I'll take you to the hospital right now."

Samantha curled against his chest, pitiful, eyes red. "Miss, I judged you by your looks just now, and that was wrong of me. But you can't just shove me after I told you I was pregnant."

"Stanley, don't be angry. The baby and I should be fine. Maybe she was just in a bad mood..."

Stanley shot me a dark look, then had the butler send the reporters off, while he himself scooped Samantha up and drove away.

I watched the crowd scatter in front of me, my chest tight to bursting.

I'd known Stanley for eight years, been his for six. I knew that look of his too well.

This wasn't going to end here.

After the butler had seen the reporters off, I called out to stop him. "Uncle Logan, could I trouble you to pull the security footage for me?"

The butler nodded and agreed.

I turned and went upstairs. Looking at the crammed-full master bedroom, the memories came flooding back.

Back when I'd moved in, this place was bare. Stanley had his arm around my waist, his gaze doting. "From now on, treat this as your own home. Arrange it however you want."

I looked at that colorful wall of oil paintings, remembering how, because I loved to paint, Stanley had deliberately left one white wall for me to work on.

I lifted my eyes to the two frames above the headboard, remembering how, because I couldn't decide on a wedding gown, Stanley had taken me to shoot both the Western and traditional styles, then had them framed.

Back then he'd looked at me with stars in his eyes. "I can't give you a wedding ceremony, but every bit of the romance you deserve, I won't shortchange you on a single one."

I pulled myself back from the thought, took down the frames with a blank face, slid out the album inside, and tore it to pieces without hesitation.

I'd just thrown the shreds into the trash when there was a knock at the door, and Butler Logan's voice came from outside.

"Madam, I've found the footage you asked for."

"Send it to my phone."

Soon, I received the surveillance video. I forwarded it to Stanley right away and sent a message.

This is the truth

No matter how much Stanley believed Samantha, I didn't think he could keep playing blind in the face of the truth.

That afternoon I packed up three big bags of things and donated all of them to a charity, as a blessing for Sammy, hoping he could live happy and free in his next life.

All night Stanley didn't reply to the message, and he didn't come back.

The next morning I took my documents in to cancel the registration. The moment it went through, I caught the contempt and disgust in the staff's eyes.

Once I'd walked far enough, I faintly heard them gossiping. "Mistress." "Shameless homewrecker." "Serves her right her son's dead." Things like that.

I gripped my handbag tight and walked out the front door, and a rotten egg smashed against my head, the rancid stench hitting me square in the face.

Then came a barrage of rotten eggs and wilted vegetable leaves, a mob spitting vicious words, even telling me to drop dead.

Bewildered, I hurried into the car and left.

In the car I finally caught my breath. I opened my phone, and only then found there was a trending topic about me.

#Sam isn't the mistress, Cindy Stephens is#

I tapped the post open and read all of it.

It laid out how I'd shamelessly seduced Stanley, how I'd used dirty tricks to get pregnant, how I'd come crawling back to latch onto him six years later.

My whole body went rigid, my gaze locked on the account that posted it. It was the official account of Stanley's company.

For Samantha's sake, he'd actually used the main account to post.

It came back to me all at once, how when Stanley and I first got together, he said he couldn't go public with me yet, but couldn't hold up against my little tantrums, so he'd offered to come out with it on a secret account.

It was only after I gave birth that I found out the posts on his secret account were visible to me alone.

I should have seen it long ago. Stanley was never a good match for me.

It was my own stubbornness, my insistence that he was my fate, that not only got my Sammy killed, but left my Sammy's ashes with no peace.

All because the Vance family had a rule: any child who died before turning eighteen wasn't worthy of being laid in the Vance family cemetery.

And Sammy's ashes had been held in Stanley's hands all this time. I hadn't so much as laid eyes on them.

When I got home, I came face to face with Stanley. There was a softness in his voice.

"Cindy, don't take the talk online to heart. It's only temporary."

"Did you watch the video?" I cut straight to it.

His eyes flickered. He tried to change the subject. "Stop going after Sam from now on. She's a new artist my company signed. She's going to make me a fortune. Once she's earning, I can buy you anything you like."

"I asked you a question. The video I sent you, did you watch it?" My face was blank as I pressed him.

I already knew the answer in my heart, but I still wanted to hear him admit it with his own mouth.

"No." Stanley let out a helpless sigh. "It's already happened. There's no undoing it. Why do you have to keep clinging to it?"

By the end, a thread of resentment had crept into his voice.

My throat went bitter, as if a wad of wet cotton were jammed tight against it, and I couldn't force out a single sound.

In that moment my heart cramped with pain, and it felt like all the blood in my body had frozen solid.

Seeing me say nothing, Stanley assumed I'd taken it in. Relieved, he said, "There. Go apologize to Sam, and this whole thing blows over."

I dodged the hand he reached toward me and bit back my temper as I demanded, "Why was the villa's keypad code changed? Why won't you admit Sammy was your son? Why would you rather believe a stranger than believe me?"

"Stanley, we've known each other eight years. Don't you understand me at all by now?"

He met my questions with a flat gaze, his brow knitting faintly. "Cindy, stop making a scene."

"I don't know where you got these absurd conclusions, but you are not to touch Sam. Understand?"

"Stanley, can you live with yourself? I kept our marriage a secret for you, I went through everything to bring our child into the world for you, for you I"

I hadn't finished when Stanley cut me off, his voice low. "Did I tell you to do any of that?"

His tone turned glacial. "Wasn't all of it your own choice? Did I force you to have the child? Did I force you to spend your life with me?"

"Cindy, don't act like I owe you something. Sam came into my life when I needed her most, and that was the moment I realized who it was I really loved. But I still have a conscience. I didn't divorce you."

"You should count yourself lucky, Cindy. Don't keep testing my patience. Be good and go apologize to Sam. Otherwise... I can't promise where your son's ashes might end up scattered."

It was as though a pair of merciless hands had torn my heart wide open. The violent pain left me unable to come back to myself for the longest time.

I didn't even notice when Stanley left.

By the time I came around, my body had gone numb, my limbs cold to the point that I couldn't move.

For Samantha, Stanley could actually stoop this low.

I gave a bitter, mocking laugh inside.

There was a time when some fool with no sense tried to harass me, and Stanley threw himself into a fight without a word. Afterward he pulled strings and had the man locked up.

I remembered how, covered in bruises, he'd said, "You're mine. No one gets to touch you. Now that you're with me, I will never let you be wronged."

But every bit of bitterness and grief I carried now had come from Stanley himself.

For the sake of Sammy's ashes, I still chose to go to the hospital. Before that, I took a shower and changed into clean clothes.

When I arrived, I took the VIP entrance and didn't run into anyone irrational.

The moment I pushed the door open, I saw Stanley feeding Samantha rabbit-shaped apple slices with his own hand.

My expression froze for a beat. Then, after a moment, I let it go.

So Stanley's tenderness could be handed to anyone, anytime.

His love really was cheap.

"You're here?" Stanley glanced at me, set down the dainty fruit plate, and picked up the plastic container beside it to hand to me. "Saved these for you."

I gave it a careless glance. Inside were nothing but scattered, irregular chunks of pulp, obviously the scraps left over from carving his rabbit-shaped apple slices.

I still remembered how, after Stanley first stumbled across one of those videos, he'd thrown himself into trying it, nicking his fingers three times before he finally produced a single perfect little apple rabbit.

Back then I'd teased him, laughing, "You're getting this good at it. Which little sweetheart are you trying to win over?"

He'd pulled me close, doting all over me, flicked the tip of my nose, and said, "Who else would I bother for, except my own little tyrant? I'll never make these for anyone else as long as I live. If I do, may I get hit by a car the second I step out the door."

Pity. Promises only hold while love does.

I didn't know exactly when Stanley's heart had turned, but I'd traced it back: Samantha first appeared on his radar two years ago.

Seeing that I didn't take the container, Stanley frowned.

On the hospital bed, Samantha lay pale and fragile, her voice soft and pitiful. "Miss Stephens, do you find dear Stanley beneath you? He didn't make you a rabbit, sure, but he set some aside just for you."

"If you throw his kindness back at him like this, you'll break his heart. And then that child's ashes, I'm afraid, might just..."

I didn't miss the malice glittering at the bottom of her eyes.

She was provoking me on purpose. Threatening me.

Stanley set the things down hard. "Sam, watch what you say."

He looked at me, his gaze calm, as though looking at a stranger passing on the street.

"Since you came to apologize, don't just stand there."

I clenched my fists so tight my nails bit into my palms, and I didn't even feel it.

No physical pain could touch even a fraction of what my heart was going through.

Watching Stanley flaunt his favoritism so openly, my chest twisted in agony.

"So as long as I apologize sincerely enough, you'll give me my child's ashes?"

I couldn't be sure my father would actually get those ashes, and I didn't dare gamble on either side's conscience.

Stanley's face darkened, displeased. "What are you questioning? You think I'd lie to you? Sam is kind and generous. All she's asking is an apology."

"Fine." I nodded.

I bowed ninety degrees toward Samantha and said, every word landing hard, "I'm sorry, Samantha. I shouldn't have pushed you, and I shouldn't have refused to repent and apologize."

I held the bow for a full three minutes before I straightened up and asked Stanley, "Is that enough?"

Stanley's expression shifted slightly. He stopped putting on airs. "I'll have the ashes sent back this afternoon."

Even with his word, I still couldn't rest easy, and pressed him. "Stanley. Remember what you said."

Stanley waved an impatient hand. "I won't forget."

After leaving the hospital, I went back to the villa and picked up where I'd left off, clearing things out. Over the years I'd bought plenty of furniture, decorations, and the like.

I packed all of it up to sell.

Every piece had been paid for with my own money, back before I got pregnant.

Later, after the baby came, Stanley couldn't bear to see me keep working, and since the child needed someone there, he talked it over with me. "Stay home and raise our son. I'll go out and earn the money to take care of you both."

He called it talking it over, but the truth was Stanley never left me any room to maneuver.

Once I'd dealt with everything and was about to lie down on the bed for a moment, Stanley barged in, bodyguards trailing behind him.

Before I could get a word out, Stanley spoke first. "Cindy Stephens, I actually thought you'd truly repented. I never imagined you'd be vicious enough to want Sam dead!"

Another crime pinned on me. Made up out of thin air.

I didn't even have the strength left to argue.

No matter what I said, Stanley wouldn't hear a word of it.

A conversation I'd overheard in the stairwell a few days ago came back to me all at once. Stanley had said, "I trust her."

That "her" was, without question, Samantha.

So even if I hadn't pushed her, Stanley would still believe Samantha over me.

My heart sank, inch by inch, and the look I gave Stanley grew calmer and calmer.

Stanley caught my gaze, and something jolted in his chest. For one instant, a flash of panic told him the two of us were drifting further and further apart.

He came back to himself, his face grim as he stared at me. "Do you admit it or not?"

I curled my lip and said, with a sneer, "Whether I admit it or not, you've already passed your verdict, haven't you?"

"You!" He was clearly furious.

Fair enough. This was the first time I'd ever talked back to him. No wonder he was this angry.

Before I found out Stanley had cheated, before I lost Sammy, I'd done everything he asked. Whatever he said, I obeyed.

"You won't repent even to the grave." His voice went cold. "Take her to the cold-storage room. Let her cool off and think hard about what she's done wrong."

I didn't resist. I let them lead me away.

The moment I stepped into the cold-storage room, I knew something was wrong.

A pair of green eyes glowed in the dark, fixed on me.

My heart stopped. Why was there an attack dog in here?!

It charged. I pounded on the door with everything I had, begging, "Help! Open the door! There's an attack dog in here!"

"You locked an attack dog in with me! Stanley, let me out! Somebody help!"

Its teeth clamped down on my calf and I sucked in a sharp breath at the pain. The cold storage was freezing. They'd put this dog in here on purpose. They wanted me dead, right here.

No.

I couldn't die here!

I hadn't gotten Sammy's ashes back yet!

I hadn't broken free of the Vance family for good!

I lifted my arm and swung at the dog's head, wild and clumsy, the arc shrinking with every blow as my body stiffened in the cold.

The dog let go, looking for a fresh spot to tear into.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted an icicle frozen along the doorframe. No time to think. I grabbed it and drove it into the dog.

It bit into my arm first, but I felt nothing. I just kept stabbing with the icicle, again and again, blood spraying everywhere. I didn't care.

Not until the dog went completely still. And the door opened, right then.

I saw the worried look on Stanley's face.

The strain of it all and the body I'd run into the ground sent me crashing into the dark.

When I woke again, Stanley was sitting by the bed, eyes shut, feigning sleep, dark circles bruising under them.

I was just about to get up and pour myself some water when he startled awake first. Seeing me awake, his voice carried a note of reproach. "You're up. Why didn't you call me? Didn't you always order me around when you were sick before?"

He poured me a glass of water. I didn't refuse it.

Once my throat felt a little better, I spoke. "Where are Sammy's ashes?"

His eyes flickered. He set the glass down and explained, "That dog the other day was one I'd just bought. The help wasn't watching it for a second, and it got loose into the cold storage."

"But don't worry, I've already dealt with the beast. I only meant to lock you in for a few minutes. Are you feeling any discomfort right now?"

Watching him fuss like this, anxious and on edge, I felt almost like I was back in the early days, when Stanley and I were head over heels for each other.

Because of my parents, I'd grown up starved for love, drowning in low self-worth. It was Stanley who appeared and lit up my gray little life.

That day, I'd just gotten out of class and was heading off to eat when a basketball came flying at me. In the split second before it hit, Stanley threw himself forward, shielding me with his body.

He turned and asked, full of concern, "Hey, you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

That was the first time I'd ever tasted what it felt like to be cared for and respected.

After that, I fell for Stanley, hopelessly, unstoppably.

Under my relentless pursuit, Stanley agreed to be with me. Only later did I learn that he'd been about to come ask for my number that day. He just happened to see the ball coming at me, and so, as naturally as anything, we met.

Once we were together, Stanley took such good care of me. He even bought that basketball, swaggering as he said, "This is Cupid's Orb. It's what brought the two of us together. We've got to put it on a pedestal."

Back then I laughed at how childish he was, but inside, I felt warm all over.

The instant my thoughts came back to the present, I heard the words that dropped me straight into an ice pit.

"Since you're fine now, go write a ten-thousand-word apology letter. Take a picture, post it online, and say sorry to Sammy."

At his words, the blood in my veins froze solid, a bitterness rising in my throat. "Stanley, I want Sammy's ashes."

Stanley reached up and ruffled my hair, his voice softening. "I'll give you the ashes the day after tomorrow. That's your father's birthday. He said he wanted to see them first. After he's done, I'll give them to you. Is that all right?"

So my father had stepped in.

And in two more days, I could finally leave this hellhole.

I let out a breath. "Fine."

Stanley's brow smoothed, as if pleased that I was being so reasonable.

"Be a good girl. There's a lot of controversy online about Sam being the other woman. You'd better clean it up. Don't let it affect her becoming my money tree."

"My money is your money too, Cindy. You should put some effort into this."

I gripped the edge of the blanket and forced out a smile. "Why don't I just hold a press conference at my father's birthday banquet the day after tomorrow and clear things up in person?"

I paused, then went on. "Instead of some crumpled written statement, wouldn't it be more convincing if I, a living person, admitted it with my own mouth? What do you think?"

The corner of Stanley's mouth curved up. "Cindy, it's wonderful that you can see it this way."

"We're in the same boat. We rise together, we fall together."

Stanley had meant to stay and keep me company a little longer, but before long, he took a call and left.

Soon the door to the hospital room opened, and Samantha sauntered in with a lazy stride.

"Well, Cindy. How does it feel to be wronged? Comfortable?"

I ignored her snide little jabs.

Samantha pinched my jaw, forcing me to meet her eyes. Hers were brimming with venom and hatred.

"Quit acting so high and mighty. An old woman like you can't beat me. Especially not now, when Stanley's so devoted to me."

"Oh, right. The baby in my belly survived. Stanley's so attentive about it. Imagine if he found out you killed his child with your own hands. What do you think he'd do to you?"

My hand, hidden beneath the blanket, quietly tapped the screen to start recording. Then I looked at her, my face perfectly composed. "Why did you kill my child? He was only five. Aren't you afraid heaven will punish you for what you did?"

Samantha flung my chin aside, contempt in her eyes. "He was just a bastard, getting in my way. I said a few things, and Stanley believed every word. Then he joined hands with me and got rid of him. Doesn't that make you furious?"

Of course it did.

Sammy was only five. He was born premature, and I'd nurtured him with such care all those years before he turned five. I never imagined that the very first time he went to school, something like this would happen.

Countless times afterward, I regretted it. Regretted sending Sammy to school. If only I'd hired a tutor, maybe Sammy would still be alive.

Samantha let out two soft laughs, then said with brazen arrogance, "It's time you handed over your place as Mrs. Vance."

"This isn't about the position. You're targeting me. Did I do something to you before?" I caught the flash of hatred at the bottom of her eyes.

Samantha scoffed. "All I did was borrow a little from your thesis, and you dragged me to court, ruined my reputation completely. You tell me, shouldn't I hate you?"

I had no memory of Samantha at all.

She seemed to have anticipated exactly that. She pulled out a photo and held it up before my eyes. "Remember now?"

I saw that familiar face. The girl who'd plagiarized my thesis and even won herself a slew of awards with it.

Back then, when I found out, I hadn't wanted to bother with it. But Stanley couldn't stand anyone laying a finger on what was mine, so he moved against her with ruthless force and made her pay the price.

"You had plastic surgery?" I studied the photo. Two completely different faces. Even the name and age didn't match.

Samantha didn't deny it. "For revenge, to get close to Stanley, of course I had to pay a price."

"And now I'm here to collect what you owe. Just you wait, Cindy. I'll make sure you die without even a grave to be buried in."

After that day, I didn't see Stanley or Samantha again. What I did see was the steady stream of trending topics lighting up my phone.

There was the one about Stanley spending billions to buy an entire planet because Samantha mentioned she wanted to look at the stars, then naming it after her.

There was the one about Samantha craving a simple bowl of noodles in the middle of the night, and Stanley, a man who'd never lifted a finger in a kitchen, cooking for her himself.

And there was Stanley parading Samantha through one event after another, in full view of everyone.

Hardly any of it repeated. And every single one of those things had once been what I longed for most.

Because the Vance family looked down on me, the condition for being with him was a secret marriage. Not a word of it could ever go public.

The moment a single detail leaked, I would be cut off from Stanley for good.

For him, I'd been willing to disappear, to stand at his side in the shadows for six years.

Every time, Stanley would comfort me, promising that once he seized control of Vance Group, he would claim me in front of the world.

But I couldn't wait that long. And I didn't want to anymore.

Even the deepest feeling had long since worn down to nothing.

Two days later, I attended Mr. Stephens's birthday banquet, just as agreed.

Once the things were delivered, I went straight upstairs to find Mr. Stephens and held out my hand. "Give them to me."

He took out two items and passed them over.

A divorce certificate. A disownment letter.

I frowned. "Where are Sammy's ashes?"

Mr. Stephens made a puzzled sound. "Stanley said he already gave them to you."

He produced a plane ticket to Harbor City and pressed it into my hand. "Here's your ticket. I've given you everything. I'm not shorting you a thing."

The ashes weren't there. I gripped the ticket and said through my teeth, "I haven't gotten the ashes. I'm not agreeing to anything."

Mr. Stephens's face darkened, an authority in his voice that needed no anger behind it. "Stanley said he gave them to you. What more do you want? Stop making a scene."

A glint of cunning crossed his eyes. "You're not having second thoughts, are you? Using this as an excuse to back out?"

My heart sank. I twisted my lips. "I'll go ask Stanley myself."

There was no reason for Mr. Stephens to lie. The Mason family had handed over a thirty-billion-dollar project; greedy and money-hungry as he was, he wouldn't dare burn that bridge with me over this.

Which meant Stanley was the one lying.

When I found him, I happened to catch his friend Stuart pressing him in a low, sullen voice.

"Stanley, have you lost your mind? Say what you want, but those are your own son's ashes. Samantha says she wants to use them to plant flowers and you just hand them over?"

"If Cindy ever finds out, she'll tear the roof off over it. The day she stops loving you, you'll be sorry."

Stanley flicked his gaze up, dismissive, certain of himself. "Cindy can't live without me. A few small favors back then and she was devoted for life. Women starved for love are the easiest to handle."

"Go get a dead dog now, burn it to ash, and bring it to me. I'll have something to show Cindy later."

Tucked around the corner, I clenched my fists so hard they ached. My vision blurred with tears, and the pain in my chest twisted until I could barely breathe.

I forced the agony down and walked the other way, my whole body gone numb.

I was going to make Stanley and Samantha pay.

I lingered at the Stephens house only long enough to set things in motion, then left.

I thought of last night, when an anonymous account had sent me a photo and a message.

Pretty flowers, aren't they? You're welcome to come admire them.

At the time I'd thought it was someone's sick idea of fun and brushed it off.

But now I was certain. The ash in that flowerpot was my child's ashes.

And the anonymous sender, no need to guess, was Samantha.

She was taunting me to my face.

I rushed into the villa, found that flowerpot, and my eyes went red, splitting with rage.

I took it with me, flowers and pot and all.

Before I left, I set the villa ablaze. There were too many memories here, and if they couldn't be scrubbed clean, then I'd let the fire do it.

Watching the flames roar up in front of me, all I felt for Stanley now was hatred.

After hailing a cab to the airport, I typed out a message on my phone and sent it to Stanley.

Stanley, I've got a surprise for you. Don't leave the hall.

The second it sent, I pulled out my SIM card and threw it in the trash, tossing away those six absurd years of marriage along with it.

The moment the plane lifted off, I gently stroked the potted flower cradled in my palm.

Sammy, Mommy's taking you away.

From now on, the road would stretch long and the mountains high, and Capital City would have nothing more to do with us.