After My Husband Killed Our Son, I Left Him in Massive Debt and Married Again

“Mrs. Arnell, are you sure you want to divorce your husband now and give up all marital property?”

The lawyer paused, pen hovering above the agreement. “You just helped him secure a contract worth billions. And you’re pregnant with his child.”

The lawyer advised me to think carefully.

I only smiled and shook my head.

I just wanted the fastest way to take revenge on a life that had been completely destroyed.

No one knew that I once had a life plan book, a notebook filled with goals I had written for myself and followed step by step.

At eighteen, I fell during an international skiing competition and suffered a concussion. I clenched my teeth, switched to ice hockey and three months later earned a place at Harvard.

At twenty-two, I accepted Dustin Arnell’s pursuit and planned to marry him three years later.

At twenty-four, I founded my own company, became a rising star in the industry and Dustin even knelt beneath the northern lights to propose to me.

At twenty-five, I gave up my career to help Dustin save his nearly bankrupt company after he “lost his memory” in a car accident on our wedding day.

That accident was a lie.

At twenty-seven, I lost my only son, Noah Arnell and was tricked into signing a body donation agreement.

That, too, was a lie.

Three days ago, I finally learned the truth when I overheard a private conversation between Dustin and his first love, Giselle Norris.

“Dustin, you suffered for three years pretending to have amnesia. It was all my fault. I wanted ice cream that day, which caused the accident. And our son, Jonah… for him, you even created an accident so Noah could die and donate his heart. I made you lose your child with Faye. I’m sorry.”

“You are the meaning of my life, Giselle. My child can only be yours. As for Faye, I’ll arrange IVF for her, give her another child and send her to the old house to take care of my parents. That will be kind enough.”

So, the love I protected for years was nothing more than a cage. And my child had become a living organ bank.

When pain reaches its limit, even crying feels useless.

With trembling fingers, I wiped away the last tear at the corner of my eye.

“One week later, I will join the Frost Group. I’ll give you everything you want. Everything, including my heart.”

A soft laugh came from the other end of the phone.

“I can’t wait to hear Dustin call you Aunt Faye.”

***

On my way from the law firm to my son’s grave, an anonymous email arrived.

[Sorry, Perfect Queen. I’ve already booked the main role for your wedding anniversary.]

I opened it.

A video played. Dustin, Giselle and a little boy stood close together on a luxury yacht.

I thought my heart was already numb, but the sharp pain in my chest proved I was wrong.

“Faye, I’m sorry. I have an urgent meeting in Philadelphia. I need to go on a business trip. I’ll make it up to you when I’m back. Also, don’t forget to finish this quarter’s financial report tonight.”

I sneered. His so-called business trip… was it actually a champagne night on a yacht?

As I stepped into the cemetery, light rain began to fall, as if even heaven was mourning.

I hugged my son’s cold gravestone and remembered his small, pale face lying in a pool of blood.

That day was the first time Dustin suggested sending Noah to a full-day kindergarten.

Three hours after Noah arrived, the principal called me. They said he cried nonstop, ran out of the school by himself and was hit by a drunk driver.

When the doctors announced he couldn’t be saved, Dustin arrived late.

He said Noah would be willing to give his life to help others. Then, he signed the consent form and allowed the doctors to take the heart that was still weakly beating inside my son’s body.

In the video, a five-year-old boy laughed freely while riding a jet ski.

“Dustin, good thing we gave up the heart transplant and treated Jonah’s heart rhythm problem with medication. Otherwise, his childhood would’ve lost so much joy.”

Her words pierced my brain like steel needles.

For a common heart rhythm problem, they had taken my son’s heart.

To them, my child’s life was nothing more than a rejected medical option.

The next morning, I woke up surrounded by the heavy smell of Chanel No. 5, Giselle’s favorite perfume.

Dustin stood beside the bed, holding a bouquet of blue baby’s breath.

“Happy wedding anniversary, Faye.”

I glanced at the wilted flowers and said nothing. At the same time, my phone lit up with Giselle’s latest Instagram post.

[My world is small. It only holds what deserves to belong.]

The photo showed Juliet roses worth seven hundred thousand dollars and blue baby’s breath that was thrown carelessly onto the ground.

So, I only deserved what Giselle Norris didn’t want?

I looked up at Dustin. He wore the expression that always softened my heart, his slightly drooping eyes and shy smile.

From today on, I told myself, the only feeling I have left for you is hatred and revenge.

I then went to the company, the place that carried all my efforts of the past five years.

But the moment I stepped inside my office, I saw Giselle standing there. She was holding the only photo of me and Noah. She smiled sweetly, but her eyes were full of provocation.

The next second, she loosened her fingers on purpose. The frame shattered on the cold marble floor.

I raised my hand to slap her, but before my palm could touch her face, Dustin grabbed my wrist.

“Faye, Giselle didn’t do it on purpose.”

Giselle immediately lowered her head, wiping away tears that never fell. Her eyes turned red as she looked at Dustin. But her sharp high heels slowly ground over the thin photo on the floor again and again, tearing a hole through it.

I screamed and rushed forward, but Dustin pushed me back.

I fell hard into the broken glass and blood poured from my palms.

Trembling, I picked up the torn photo. The blood on my hands looked like two red tears streaking down Noah’s young face.

A trace of hesitation flashed in Dustin’s eyes when he met my gaze.

But the next second, Giselle clutched her chest.

“Dustin… my chest feels tight.”

He glanced at me. In the end, he still turned away and carried her into his arms.

I pressed Noah’s photo to my chest and whispered softly, “Sweetheart, Mom will take revenge for you.”

“Just seven more days. I will make everyone who hurt you pay the most painful price.”