At sixty-five, I got served divorce papers. The same day, my husband Sebastian — decked out in his wedding suit, of all things — popped a handful of sleeping pills in a suicide attempt. For years, we were the perfect couple. The kind of pair neighbors whispered about with envy. I couldn't wrap my head around it. The divorce. The pills. None of it made sense. Not until I found the photo and letter in his pocket.
View MoreHalf a month later, Sebastian's trial kicked off.Jack showed up too.It was the first time we'd crossed paths since the police station. He looked rough—thin, worn-out, and a mess.No surprise. Word about the murder plot had spread like wildfire.Gigi? Gone. Divorced him on the spot.His company? Fired him without hesitation.During a break, Jack made a beeline toward me.He started talking about his childhood, pulling out every nostalgic memory he could."Please. Drop the fight over the assets. Leave me the house. If I lose it, I'll be out on the streets."I stared at him, stone-cold.Why would I give him anything?He wasn't even my biological son. He'd plotted to kill me. Now he expected me to give him money?What a joke."What are you to me?" I said, voice low but biting. "Why should I give you money?"That's when Jack lost it.Right there, in front of everyone, he exploded."If you don't leave me the house today, don't expect me to take care of you when you're old!
The video call from yesterday left me rattled.By morning, I couldn't sleep. Figured some fresh air might clear my head, so I headed downstairs.The second I stepped outside—bam—an ambulance was parked right there by the building.I thought, 'Huh, someone must've had a medical emergency. Kept walking.'Then, out of nowhere, two guys in white coats bolted toward me. One on each side, grabbing my arms."Ma'am, don't panic! We're here to help. Your schizophrenia can be treated!" one of them blurted.Wait—what?! My brain short-circuited. "Excuse me?! Who even are you? Why are you grabbing me?""Your son called us," the other guy jumped in. "Said you've been wandering around, not coming home. That you've been scammed out of all your money.""We have your medical report," the first guy said. "You'll be safe with us."Their words were smooth, but their grip tightened, steering me toward the ambulance.I jerked back, thrashing. "I'm not sick! Let me go! This is kidnapping! I'm callin
"Come on, Dad. With Helena's brains? She'll never figure it out." Jack waved his hand. "She's useless. Honestly, the way you set it up? Perfect. Letting her die like this? Cleanest solution."She hasn't even opened the drawer with the will. She won't know a thing."Hearing Jack talk about my death like he was planning a grocery list? My stomach twisted.I should've known better. There was no saving either of them.Sebastian didn't even pause. "You're right. I've overestimated that worthless woman."She's good for nothing but cleaning up after us. Even if she did see the letters, so what? I've kept a roof over her head for thirty years. She should be grateful."She's old. Almost done for. Even if she gets angry, what difference does it make? She's got no one else. Sooner or later, she'll come crawling back."Jack shifted uncomfortably. "But, Dad... something felt off today. She ignored you. Didn't even look at me. And she hasn't come back yet. You think she'll turn on us? We can'
Jack was, after all, the child I had raised with my own hands.More than thirty years of affection wasn't something I could just cut off overnight.I still held onto a shred of hope.If he saw me as his mother—if he'd replaced the poisoned medication—maybe I could show him mercy.Seeing that she couldn't change my mind, Stella suggested coming home with me.The three of us—Stella, Zayne, and me—pulled up to the house. But just as we were about to unlock the front door, we froze.Voices.Coming from inside.Zayne immediately held out a hand to stop me. His other hand slipped into his jacket, pulling out a recording device.The voices weren't loud. We had to press against the door to make out the conversation.Sebastian.He'd already been discharged from the hospital and was back home.Inside, he and Jack were talking."Jack, it looks like she found out. The drawer in my nightstand isn't the original one—she swapped it."Jack sounded anxious. "What did you keep in that draw
Too much had happened today.By the time I was sitting in the hospital waiting for my test results, I'd finally calmed down enough to think clearly.What now? What was next?I was in my sixties. My health was holding steady. If I took care of myself, I wasn't dying anytime soon.But still—the thought hit me hard.I'd worked myself to the bone for most of my life, yet I had nothing to my name. No real job outside the house. No retirement savings. No safety net.Except...This family's money? At the very least, half of it should be mine.And Jack's house?Yeah. That title was in my name.Back when they bought it, both Sebastian and Jack were too busy to handle the paperwork, so they dumped it on me. At the time, I didn't think much of it. It was Jack's home. It made sense to put it under his name.But my niece, Stella, stopped me.She warned me Jack might not treat Gigi right. If they ever got divorced, the house could get split with her. Stella suggested I keep it in my name
It was hard to believe.Such cold, heartless words—from the very child I'd raised with my own two hands.When did he become like this?When did he rot from the inside out?Jack wasn't done. His voice climbed. "Mom, you keep saying Dad didn't tell you anything, but did you ever stop to think why?"You never cared about what happened at home. You've never cared about Dad at all! No wonder you had no idea he tried to kill himself."You've never been a proper wife."What a righteous accusation.I didn't care?Of course I cared.When we got married, I dreamed of a warm, loving family. Of building a life with someone who cared for me as much as I cared for him.But Sebastian had been the one to draw that line.Every time I tried to get close—tried to ask about his day, his work, his life—he pushed me away. Always with that same sharp impatience.Even when he was sick, I offered to take care of him. And how did he respond?With anger. Snapping at me until I backed off.Eventual
Watching Jack walk away, I felt a sour taste cling to my tongue.It all made sense now — he'd been in on it from the start.Sending me to the hospital wasn't about care or concern. He needed me out of the way so he could take charge when Sebastian's body was found. The whole aftermath? Jack would handle it.And me? I'd be dead before I even realized it.Sebastian really thought he'd nailed every detail.Too bad for him — fate had other plans.Gigi's accident threw a wrench in their scheme. They couldn't reach Sebastian, so they called me. Pure luck.I owed her for that. If she hadn't asked me to swing by the house, I never would've found out what they were up to.Jack melted into the crowd, but I couldn't shake one thought: What's he gonna do when he reads that letter?***The truth hit like a wrecking ball at the doctor's office.The doctor scanned my file, his voice calm but his words gutting me: I'd had an abortion and was given drugs to keep me from getting pregnant agai
I yanked my hand out of Jack's grip, taking two steps back like his touch burned."Even if I were dying, I'd still be a woman," I snapped. "I'll decide when to see a gynecologist— whenever I feel like it."And you? You don't even care if I'm sick? You just think I'm causing trouble? You're a damn ingrate."The words came out sharp, fueled by pure rage. By the end, I was practically yelling.I couldn't stop the memories flooding in.Jack, frail and sickly as a kid, was always in and out of the hospital.That year he caught chickenpox and ran a fever so high he went delirious. I carried him all the way to the hospital, slipping on the wet road along the way.God, the pain when I fell... maybe I fractured something. I didn't stop to check. Just grit my teeth and kept going.And after? I didn't even bother seeing a doctor. Just rubbed ointment on my leg and pushed through.It still aches every time it rains.And because of Jack, I never got to see my mother one last time before s
Standing by the side of the road with everything I'd taken from the house, I froze for a second.What now?The question hung there, empty — until thirty years of lies and betrayal came crashing back. Anger flickered in my chest, then roared to life.I wasn't going to be that pathetic, clueless woman anymore.I'd spent my whole life fading into the background — quiet, timid, forgettable.Not anymore.The people who hurt me? They were going to pay.I stepped off the curb and flagged down a cab."Hospital," I said, slamming the door behind me.First stop — I was getting checked for poisoning.***I'd spent years living with constant aches — back pain, stiff joints, sore muscles from endless overwork. Painkillers became my lifeline, the only way to get through the day.And, like always, I'd taken them before I left the house.The test results came back fast.The doctor confirmed it: I was poisoned.The good news? They caught it early. The dose wasn't high enough to do perman
The woman in the photo? Total stranger. Young, gorgeous, rocking a plain dress like she didn't need to try.[Dear Rainee, I'm about to get married, but I can't sleep through the night. You're not the bride. To me, this marriage is a tragedy.][Rainee, I kept my promise to you. I raised our child. He's successful now, living a happy life. And I'm coming to find you.[Rainee, wait for me.]The handwriting hit me like a slap—Sebastian's. No mistaking it after thirty years. His bold, sweeping letters practically dripped with emotion.What a joke.The Rainee he loved? Not me. Never was.And the miserable wife in his little sob story?Yeah, that was me.I glanced at him — lying there on the bed, cheeks flushed, lips curved in this faint, satisfied smile. Like a man who'd made peace with dying.Sebastian Dwight.We'd been married thirty years. And somehow, I never really knew him.Three decades of running his house, raising his kid, pouring every ounce of myself into a life that, ...
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