Chapter 3

The framed painting I had placed before the headstone had already been smashed to pieces on the stone pavers by Cynthia.

"What kind of garbage is this? It's hideous."

"Don't go corrupting Alex's and my son's artistic taste. It's so low-class."

In its place, she had arranged expensive jewelry, luxury model cars, and high-end auction artwork.

"Isn't your new mommy treating you well?"

Her laugh was dripping with smug superiority.

A snap echoed in my head, severing my last shred of sanity.

That painting was a family portrait Leo and I had worked on together right before he died.

Only Alexander's figure was left uncolored.

Leo had told me he wanted to wait until his daddy came home so they could finish it together.

That wait had turned into an eternity.

What right did this mistress have to destroy his final wish?

I lunged forward in my chair, grabbing her tacky displays and hurling them directly into her face.

Just as my trembling fingers scooped up the mud-stained canvas, a violent shove hit my chest.

I went crashing down, wheelchair and all.

My temple slammed hard against the sharp corner of the granite headstone. Excruciating pain tore through my skull.

"Chloe, what the hell are you doing?!"

Alexander had appeared out of nowhere.

Timmy burst into loud, theatrical wails. "Daddy! That mean lady pushed Mommy!"

Cynthia’s face was covered in scratches. Tears streamed down her cheeks in a delicate, pathetic display.

"Alex, it hurts so bad..."

Alexander’s expression was terrifyingly cold.

"Chloe, apologize to her."

Cynthia tugged on his sleeve, playing the magnanimous saint. "It's fine, Alex. I'm sure she didn't mean it."

Swallowing down the blinding pain, I frantically wiped the wet mud off the torn canvas, terrified my own tears would dissolve the watercolors.

The veins on Alexander’s temples bulged violently. He reached down, ripped the paper from my hands, tore it to shreds, and threw it into the wind.

"What is so damn important about this piece of trash?! Apologize right now!"

The scraps fluttered helplessly down the mountainside.

All that remained in my clenched fist was a tiny, crumpled corner with messy, childish handwriting: Mommy, I love you.

I cried until I couldn't pull air into my lungs, my entire frame shaking violently.

Panic suddenly flickered across Alexander’s features. He rushed to haul me up from the dirt, setting me carefully back into the wheelchair.

"Chloe, I... I lost my temper just now—"

"Alex... my head hurts so much..."

Cynthia’s pained whimper cut him off instantly.

Without a second thought, he scooped Cynthia into his arms, grabbing Timmy’s hand with his free fingers.

"I’m taking you to the ER right now."

Every shred of concern and guilt he had just shown me evaporated into thin air.

He didn't look back at me. Not once.

Blood seeped from the gash on my forehead, dripping warm down my cheek and jaw.

I wiped at it blindly with the back of my hand, crawling through the freezing mud to search for the shredded pieces of my son's drawing.

An autumn downpour broke without warning, heavy and merciless.

Even the tiny scrap of paper promising his love was washed clean by the torrent, the ink dissolving into nothing.

"I'm sorry, Leo... Mommy's so sorry..."

The ground turned slick with mud. The wheels lost their grip, sliding uncontrollably toward the steep edge of the slope.

A sickening jolt of agony ripped through me as I plunged over, darkness dragging me down.

Right before I blacked out, I thought I heard Leo’s sweet, soft voice whispering in my ear:

Mommy, I don't blame you. I love you the most in the whole wide world.

In the fog of my mind, I dreamed of the day Alexander proposed.

He had signed over every single asset he owned to my name, swearing on his life that he would love me until his dying breath.

Everyone told me I was the luckiest woman alive.

And I truly believed them.

Even when I was in labor with Leo, he didn't run to check on the baby first.

He ran straight to my bedside, tears in his eyes, begging to know if I was in pain.

He had cherished me so much. Outside of work hours, he spent every waking second raising our son with me.

He carved out time to take Leo to the park.

He handled drop-offs and pick-ups. Whenever Leo had a fever, he canceled multi-million-dollar board meetings just to sit by his bed.

I had never once doubted his love for me, or for our son.

And yet, every single second of it had been constructed on the foundation of cold-blooded revenge.

What a sick, twisted joke.

When I opened my eyes again, Alexander let out a heavy breath, his gaze swimming with undisguised dread.

"Chloe, you scared the life out of me falling down that slope! I spent twenty-four hours searching that mountain for you! Thank God you're okay."

"I've already ordered a custom motorized chair with top-tier safety locks. I swear to God, you won't ever get hurt again."