A Child's Death, A Wife's Betrayal

Because our five-year-old son accidentally knocked over her precious first love wine glass at a banquet, my wife—the president’s wife—ordered him to be sent to the isolated island to undergo the family’s heir trial.

Everyone tried to stop her, but she silenced them with a single icy glance.

I watched helplessly as the ship carrying my son drifted farther and farther from the shore, toward the lonely island.

Falling to my knees, I begged her to bring him back.

“He’s only in kindergarten! He hasn’t been trained—he’ll die out there! He didn’t mean to bump into Billie. I’ll wash the soiled clothes myself, I’ll pay whatever compensation you want, just please bring him back—”

But my wife didn’t even look at me.

Instead, she clung tightly to Billie Morgan’s arm, gently caressing his pale, frightened face.

“If you hadn’t spoiled him so much, how could he have made such a blunder in public? As the heir to the Collins Family, shouldn't he at least know basic manners? You're the one who always said, 'A doting father ruins the son.' Now look what you’ve done.”

Five days later, when the cruise ship finally returned, I pushed through the crowd and rushed onto the island.

There he was—my son—lying in the grass, his tiny face swollen and dark from a snake bite.

He wasn’t breathing.

Without hesitation, I carried him in my arms and rushed him to the hospital.

My wife, meanwhile, stayed behind, taking selfies on the cruise ship with her beloved first love.

Outside the emergency room, when the old man of Collins Family, Hardy Collins, finally arrived, I collapsed in front of him, sobbing.

“Bastian is gone. The eight-year agreement is coming up... please let me go. I don’t want anything else.”

——

Hardy dropped his cane in shock, quickly helping me up, his face filled with guilt.

“Bastian was a clever child. That island has always been the Collins Family’s place of trial—it's regularly cleared of dangerous creatures. You mustn't worry too much, I’m sure he—”

Before he could finish, the resuscitation light turned off. A doctor stepped out, shaking his head with deep regret.

“I’m sorry. The child was brought in too late. The venom had spread too far by the time he arrived—we did everything we could.”

He hesitated, then added grimly, “And during the procedure, we discovered something else. His stomach was full of roots and grass—he’d been trying to eat weeds to survive. He was severely malnourished. Are you sure he died simply from a snake bite while playing?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“What… did you say?”

Images of Bastian, all alone on that barren island, starving and desperate, flashed through my mind.

I had thought he’d just be scared from the solitude—but never imagined that Shena Collins would treat him by the harshest standards, not even leaving him food.

How terrified he must have been in those final moments.

Hearing this, Hardy slammed his cane against the floor in fury.

“That heartless wretch! How could she do this to her own child!”

Just then, a deliveryman arrived, carrying a set of children’s clothes.

“A lady surnamed Collins asked me to deliver these,” he said.

“Shameless!” Hardy snatched the clothes, ripped them apart and threw them to the floor.

“She kills her own son and still won’t come in person—just sends clothes through someone else? I bet she’s still out there with that pale-faced, sickly man. He dares to think he can be the Collins Family’s son-in-law? Dream on!”

“I’m calling her now—I want her to see what she’s done!”

He dialed again and again, but Shena never picked up.

Then my own phone rang. My hands trembled as I put it on speaker.

Her voice came through, cold and annoyed, “Theo, are you seriously running to my grandfather to complain over a minor issue? Don’t think you can fool me by dragging Bastian into it and pretending he’s sick. What a joke.”