My son, Matthew Wilson, died of a heart attack despite all efforts to save him. With his last breath, he longed to see his father.

I called his father, Daniel Wilson, crying and begging him to come to the hospital immediately.

Daniel's tone was impatient.

"Stop bothering me, I have something urgent tonight."

I watched as Matthew, eyes glued to the door, waited anxiously. Desperate, I called Daniel three more times.

He simply turned off his phone. At 2 AM, Matthew passed away with regret.

That night, I knelt beside Matthew's lifeless body, sleepless until dawn.

The next day, a news alert popped up on my phone.

"Wilson Group CEO splurges to throw a lavish birthday party for his first love, Isabella Davis."

My hands trembled as I texted Daniel.

[Was your urgent matter last night celebrating Isabella's birthday?]

As the staff handed Matthew's urn to me, my phone vibrated with a message from Daniel. His words were tender yet icy.

[I promised her I'd be there. I couldn't break my word.]

***

"Let's get a divorce."

Daniel was my dream man, leaving a significant mark on my youth.

In my freshman year, I had an intense crush on him. By my sophomore year, I was lucky enough to be chosen by Daniel's grandfather, James Wilson, to learn the ways of high society. In my junior year, Daniel and I had a flash wedding, and by the time I graduated, I was already pregnant with his child.

To outsiders, I was incredibly fortunate.

But no one knew that because Daniel believed I had used underhanded means to get pregnant, he scarcely came home in the five years of our marriage.

To avoid affecting his work, I only called him when it was absolutely necessary.

When Matthew had a high fever and wanted to see his father, I patiently comforted him. When I had stomach surgery, I went alone. Even when I was in labor, Daniel didn't show up.

I thought that if I was considerate enough, he would eventually see my sincerity.

But little did I know that my humble submission only made him more brazen in seeking out Isabella.

"Ms. Miller, here is your son Matthew's urn."

The staff handed me the urn.

I carefully wrapped it in layers of black cloth and held it close to my chest as I hailed a cab to return home and pack up Matthew's clothes.

As soon as I walked in, I saw two familiar figures sitting intimately on the sofa.

"Daniel, your cooking is so delicious."

Isabella's coy voice stabbed at my nerves. Matthew was four years old, and Daniel had never cooked a meal for him.

Whenever I asked him to spend time with Matthew, he always said he was busy.

But whenever Isabella called, he'd drop everything and rush to her side.

I turned to go upstairs, and Daniel, catching sight of me from the corner of his eye, let out a cold snort.

"Charlotte Miller, you're really something, making up any lie just to ruin Isabella's birthday party."

In Daniel's eyes, I was nothing but a liar.

He believed I had manipulated James into forcing him to marry me, I had used dirty tricks to get pregnant, and even Matthew's death from a heart attack was just another one of my lies.

My heart was dead. Ignoring him, I continued heading upstairs.

Behind me, Isabella, stroking her large Chow Chow, attempted to provoke me.

"Sorry, Ms. Miller. When you called Daniel last night, I actually wanted him to come home, but he insisted on spending the night with me for my birthday. I wanted to eat his cooking today, so he brought me here. I hope we didn't disturb you?"

I paused. Now that I was determined to divorce Daniel, so Isabella meant nothing in my eyes.

"Do you need me to tweet my congratulations on your successful ruin my marriage?"

"Enough, Charlotte! Watch your mouth!"

Daniel instantly rushed to Isabella's defense, his tone full of concern.

I said nothing, hugging the urn as I headed upstairs, only wanting to pack Matthew's clothes and leave as soon as possible.

In the spacious bedroom, I wiped away my tears while folding Matthew's clothes into a suitcase.

At some point, Daniel had come upstairs. He stood at the doorway, frowning as he tried to make amends.

"My phone didn't die on purpose last night, it just ran out of battery."

I didn't look up, not even wanting to acknowledge him.

In the past, I would've been overjoyed if he had apologized first. I would have hugged him, convincing myself that it was unintentional, and pretended that nothing had happened.

But now, just looking at him made me feel sick.

I knew perfectly well that if it had been Isabella who called him last night, even if his phone had died or if he were stranded in the wilderness, he would have found a way to get back to her.

I understood that he didn't love me.

But Matthew was innocent...

Seeing that I wasn't responding, Daniel stepped in front of me, trying to stop me from packing the clothes.

"It was my fault last night. How's Matthew? The medical team I hired will arrive from abroad in a few days."

My hand paused on the suitcase, and I looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.

"It's not necessary."

Matthew had no desire to see him now.

Refusing to follow the lead Daniel was offering, I noticed the anger flicker across his face.

"Charlotte, don't be ungrateful. This medical team is top-notch, specializing in pediatric cardiology. Haven't you always dreamed of having them treat Matthew?"

Once that team arrived, Matthew would have had a 60% chance of survival.

But now, none of that mattered.

Daniel no longer had any leverage over me.

Six months ago, I begged Daniel to help Matthew, but he had never shown any real concern for his condition.

It was his constant delays that led to Matthew's breakdown yesterday, causing this tragedy.

"There's no need to call them."

"What on earth is wrong with you?"

Daniel finally sensed that something was off.

When I still didn't respond, his face fell.

"Charlotte, you're already my wife. Isabella is disabled because of you. What more do you want?"

The day Daniel and I went to the city hall to get our marriage license, Isabella drove over to stop us, only to have a car accident.

Her right leg wasn't amputated, but she would need crutches for the rest of her life.

Naturally, Daniel blamed me for the whole thing.

"I've told you before, it was her own poor driving. She deserved it, and it has nothing to do with me."

It was all because she was plotting something she shouldn't have been.

Daniel let out a cold laugh, his voice turning icy.

"Charlotte, you're truly heartless."

"Thank you for the compliment."

"Can't you show some compassion for Isabella? She's disabled, and her parents don't blame us. They just hope I can take care of her."

"My parents died a long time ago, so now those who still have parents all band together to bully me?"

Daniel was silent for a moment, then turned and left.

After I finished packing Matthew's belongings, I went to the bathroom.

When I came out, Matthew's urn was gone. Panicking, I called for the housemaid, Tina Turner, to come upstairs.

"Tina, where's the thing I left on the table? Wrapped in black cloth?"

Tina kept her head down, unable to meet my eyes.

"Ms. Davis' dog just came upstairs and took it to play with."

My eyes reddened with fury as I stormed downstairs.

In the living room on the first floor, the large Chow Chow was gnawing on Matthew's urn.

Its drool had soaked into the black cloth wrapped around the urn, utterly disgusting.

In my mind, Matthew's last words echoed.

"Mom, when I'm gone, please bury me somewhere far away. I don't want to see Dad again."

"Mom, I want to be your son in the next life too, but please choose a better dad for me. Pinky promise."

To fulfill Matthew's final wishes, I carefully wrapped his urn in layers of black cloth before bringing it home.

Isabella sat eating grapes, her legs draped over the sofa as if she owned the place.

"Daniel, look how cute Matt is. How could anyone say he's a vicious dog?"

The dog's name was Matt, and my son's name was Matthew.

I had once told Daniel that Isabella had deliberately named the dog "Matt" to spite us, but he dismissed it as me being overly sensitive.

"Give me back my thing!"

I rushed downstairs, shouting at the Chow Chow to scare it away.

Isabella jumped, startled, and shot me a disdainful look.

"It's not like it's something valuable. If my dog wants to play with it, let it."

Daniel frowned, not understanding why I was so upset.

"What's the matter now? If it's that important, I'll just buy you another one."

"Daniel, you couldn't afford it!"

I lost control and lunged for the urn.

But the Chow Chow wasn't going to give it up easily. Isabella hadn't trimmed its nails, and it clawed at my arm, leaving deep scratches that bled.

I was beyond reason, furiously grabbing a plate from the table and hurling it at the dog. Startled, it scurried away.

Seeing that I was close to retrieving the urn, Isabella shot a glance at Tina.

"Tina, Matt was just playing nicely. Now that he's being bullied, why aren't you helping?"

Tina hesitated, but Daniel nodded silently.

"Pull her away."

Tina yanked me aside, forcing me to kneel in front of Isabella.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Wilson."

Kneeling there, I felt a deep, burning humiliation.

"Daniel, are you just going to let Isabella walk all over me?"

"Matt was only playing with something. You hit him and even threw a plate at him. Charlotte, you know full well how much Matt means to Isabella. When did you become so cruel?"

Instead of helping me, Daniel's tone was filled with reproach.

"I told you, that dog was biting something incredibly important to me!" I spat through gritted teeth.

Daniel frowned slightly, dismissing my concern.

"It's not like it's your son's body, why do you care so much?"

I shuddered, my eyes reddening as I fell silent.

"Daniel, I want a divorce."

Daniel walked over, towering above me as he looked down.

It seemed like he was seeing my resolve for the first time. Reluctantly, he conceded.

"Apologize, and I'll make sure Isabella forgives you."

"I'll never apologize to a mistress as long as I live." I bit down hard on my words.

Daniel frowned, letting out a quiet sigh after a long pause.

Seeing him soften, Isabella snorted coldly.

"Charlotte, you're so hypocritical. You claim to love your son, but when he was sick, instead of staying at the hospital to care for him, you came back just to cause trouble for me. You're a fraud."

"You have no right to talk about Matthew." Anger flickered in Daniel's eyes.

A trickling sound interrupted.

I turned to see the dog, Matt, lifting its hind leg and urinating on the urn.

My eyes turned crimson with fury as I wrenched myself free from Tina, rushing to clutch the now-wet urn to my chest.

Matt barked loudly, rabidly, as I tried to run upstairs, but it quickly latched onto my leg, dragging me back down.

"Ah!"

A chunk of flesh was torn from my leg, but I held the urn tightly against my chest.

Isabella, at some point, had walked over to me. She seized the moment to snatch the urn.

I reached out to grab it, and Matt lunged at me again, startling Isabella. Daniel reached out to protect her, inadvertently knocking the urn from her hands.

The urn hit the ground with a heavy thud, the black cloth unraveling, leaving the pale ashes to mix with the yellow urine.

My eyes welled up as I desperately tried to scoop the ashes back into the broken urn.

"You're disgusting, bringing someone's ashes into your home." Isabella took three steps back in disdain.

Daniel frowned, noticing the cut on Isabella's foot from the urn's shattered pieces, his expression darkening.

"Charlotte, even if you begged me this time, I wouldn't forgive you."

He picked up his phone and called Matthew's primary doctor, Jackson Bennett.

"Jackson, I'm ordering you to stop all treatment for Matthew."

Jackson's voice trembled.

"Mr. Wilson, Matthew passed away last night.

"Mrs. Wilson had his body cremated, and she must have taken the urn home this morning."

"Matthew is dead? Impossible! Why wasn't I informed?" Daniel's eyes widened in disbelief.

On the other end, Jackson hesitated.

"Mrs. Wilson tried to call you, but you didn't answer. When we tried to notify you, she told us your phone was off.

"And Mr. Wilson, Matthew's eyes were still open when he passed. He died with regret, and Mrs. Wilson cried all night."