James shook his head. "I'm sorry… I know you'd be devastated if you saw his body, so I had him cremated."

But he wasn't.

He was just worried that I'd see our son's hollowed chest, missing a heart.

I fought back my hatred as I stared at the lopsided bracelet on James' wrist.

It was Stan's gift to him.

James had often suffered from insomnia back then, so Stan learned how to make one of those Kabbalah bracelets and gave it to him.

James was slack-jawed when he wore the unattractive bracelet, unable to say a word until Stan said, "Daddy?"

He then finally took the bracelet from Stan, carefully putting it on his wrist before giving Stan a hug. "Thanks, son. I really like it."

Come to think of it, James must have been losing sleep when he planned our accident.

James followed my gaze just then, and seeing that I was looking at the bracelet, there was a troubled look in his eyes as he pulled up his sleeve to hide it.

"I promise you, dear, that I'll remember our son just like you, and for the rest of our lives."

I lowered my gaze in silence—the only thing I could be pleased about was that Stan died believing his father loved him.

But that didn't mean I could forgive what James did.

I would avenge my son and rid myself of this two-faced murderer who hurt us.

James took me home the next day because he hated the smell of the hospital, and he definitely still looked like a good husband if I hadn't seen through his demonic true nature.

He would cook for me, remembering all the things I shouldn't eat, and massage my body to help with the stress after the accident.

It was the third day after we got home that he finally excused himself, saying there was trouble at work.

However, I saw the text Sue Jenkins sent him when the screen of his phone lit up.

[Nathan's asking for his daddy. I can't sweet talk him anymore.]

He left just because Sue's child asked, while my son died on our way to see him.

I watched quietly as James left, going up to the third floor and standing behind his desk.

We had been married for five years, but the room was secured with a password lock as James reasoned that any spouse would need personal space after marriage.

I tried Sue and Nathan's birthday, and it really unlocked the door.

There were photos of James, Sue, and Nathan all over the wall—he had recorded everything, from Sue's pregnancy to delivery, and Nathan's first months, first tooth, and first steps.

As for my son, the photos of him in the four years of his life couldn't even fill a tiny album.

I reached for James' diary.

[20th May. Sue told me she's going to surprise me. I knew she's pregnant, but I still couldn't stop my tears when she showed me her positive pregnancy test.]

[23rd January. I'm a father now, and my son's name is Nathan.]

[He's just such a tiny thing… But holding him in my arms, I thought for a split second I should do everything for him and Sue.]

[But that was the moment the doctor told me about his congenital heart defect.]

[30th September. I'm marrying for Nathan's sake, but I'm not marrying Sue.]

[But I'm going to be a good husband to Sue and a good father to Nathan.]

The pen was pushed so hard on the paper for that last line that it almost tore through it.

I couldn't help smiling wryly.

As it turned out, marrying me was a terrible humiliation for James.

So that was why he was so silent when I happily showed him my positive pregnancy test all those years ago.

He thanked me, like I had just completed a quest.

He never held Stan in his arms after he was born. The moment he saw Stan, he calmly told the doctor to perform a full-body examination, with focus on our son's heart.

The lights were off the night we consummated, and I thought he was just embarrassed.

Now, it was clear that he never wanted to marry me—the face he wanted to see wasn't mine.

His diary entries were a mess, but they were all about Sue and Nathan.

And the last entry was just seven days ago.

[Maybe this Kabbalah stuff works. I actually slept soundly and dreamed about…]

The entry was cut off, and I wasn't interested in reading.

Taking pictures of the diary contents, I commissioned a private investigator and returned the diary where I found it.

James arrived home just as I stepped out of his study, and there was panic on his face when he saw that I was on the third floor.

"Why would you want to go upstairs?" He quickly rushed to my side. "You're still hurt. You need to stay in bed."

I refused his outstretched hands and simply said, "Been lying down too long. I'm tired."

James kept staring at my face, quietly sighing in relief when he decided I wasn't looking upset, and pulled out a box. "Your favorite pastries, dear. I went all the way to get it for you."

I liked pastries, but I also saw the photo Sue posted on Twitter just five minutes ago, captioned: Nathan asked, and a certain man drove two hours for these.

She had always vagueposted, but I just didn't know it was about my own husband.

Still, I liked the post while James wasn't watching, because I wanted to wait.

Once I gathered sufficient evidence, it would really be over between me and James.

Sue called me just as I paid the private investigator, inviting me to a villa in the suburbs.

Even the paint hues felt warm unlike the cold tones back in my home—he'd say he preferred things simple, but everything from furniture to decorations were monochrome.

As I entered, Sue was on the couch, nonchalantly admiring her freshly polished nails.

"I guess you know about me and James now," she said, giving up on pretenses after getting Stan's heart. "Well, James agreed to take me and Nathan back home to see his old folks soon and enter Nathan's name in his family's annals."

I calmly watched him for a while, eventually asking, "Is that all you have to say?"

Sue's smug smile stiffened, and she leaped off the couch, shrieking, "Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?! What, you still believe you're Mrs. Frost?! Dream on! Did you really think James loved you at all?! It's for me and Nathan's sake that he—"

She stopped, but she clearly couldn't take a loss and kept snapping, "In a relationship, the other woman is the one who isn't loved, just like your child! Nathan is going to be James' only son now, and all his wealth will be Nathan's! As for your dead brat?! Just send him some flowers, I guess!"

My temper flared at the mention of Stan, and I swung my palm at her, but she caught me as I was still enfeebled.

She leaned close to me, smirking as she said slowly and clearly, "Can't even protect your own son? You deserve to be dumped."

My eyes were red with humiliation and hatred.

I tried to push Sue away as hard as I could, but she suddenly grabbed my wrist and used my hand to slap her own face.

As she collapsed on the floor, she looked at me in grief as she cried, "Please! I'm sad that Stan is gone too, but why are you doing this to me? What did I do?"

Before I realized what was happening, I felt a big shove behind my back and knocked my head on the tea table.

Although I was bleeding, James didn't seem to see it as he worriedly helped Sue to her feet. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Sue shook her head, but her tears were raining. "My head hurts so much…"

James wheeled on me angrily right then. "What are you doing here?! Just because your son died?! Apologize right now!"

I couldn't stop my tears as hatred and fury ate at me. "Stan's your son too! He's your biological child whom you've been a father to for four years!"

James paused and suddenly looked down at the bracelet on his wrist, which felt like it weighed tons.

Even as his hand seemed to twitch, he avoided my eyes and turned, gripping his chest as if his heart was being seized, suffocating him.

That was until Sue sobbed out loud, and he sprang to life again and scooped her up in his arms. "Let's get you to the hospital."

He quickly left with Sue, leaving me alone in the spacious, empty room.

-

Later, I reviewed everything, including a voice recording of that confirmation with Sue and the rest of the evidence sent by the private investigator.

In a video, Stan was lying in a pool of his own blood, his tiny hand reaching toward James as he stood nearby.

"Dad… help… It hurts… Dad…"

But James only watched coolly as Stan's hand ever so slowly dropped on the ground.

I was watching Stan's face, and could see the initial hope and yearning for his father, followed by confusion and ultimately despair.

Before his death, my son found out about the truth—that his father never loved him.

What could be on Stan's mind at that time?

Was he wondering if he did something wrong that his father hated him for?

Or did he think he should warn me?

I was shaking in anguish, hatred and every emotion in between, when I heard footsteps behind me.

It was a child around six years old, holding a model airplane and standing at the doorway, asking, "Who are you, ma'am? What are you doing here?"

There was just something about his face and heartbeat that felt so familiar.

I stared at his chest, knowing that my son's heart was beating under that shirt.

If not for this boy, my son would be alive.

Why should he get to live when my son was dead?

My eyes narrowing coolly, I crouched in front of Nathan even as he stared at me in confusion.

"Good boy, Nathan. Come with me—I've got some tasty treats back home."

-

James was frowning on the way to the hospital, as he kept remembering my tearful outburst.

And each time he did, it felt like a boulder crushing his chest, leaving him in pain and unease.

That was when his phone rang, and I spoke icily like a robot from the other end, "I have Nathan."

James floored the brakes as he swerved to the curb, his fingers clenching around his steering wheel as a very scary thought occurred to him.

I knew.