I arrived at the kindergarten to pick up my three-year-old son, but instead, I walked into a nightmare.

A crazed man, wielding a knife, was attacking indiscriminately. Without hesitation, I shielded my son with my body, feeling the cold steel pierce my flesh again and again. Pain exploded through me as I collapsed into a growing pool of my own blood.

Willy Nelson, my husband, arrived just in time. He subdued the attacker and turned him over to the police, then rushed us to the hospital, summoning the best medical team in the city. As I was wheeled toward the operating room, weak and barely clinging to consciousness, I forced out a desperate question.

"How is my son?"

Willy's red-rimmed eyes wavered. He hesitated, then finally spoke, his voice trembling. "He lost too much blood... He didn't make it."

His words shattered me. The grief was so unbearable that my body gave in—I blacked out completely. What I forgot to mention before surgery was that I was immune to anesthesia. I regained consciousness in the middle of a hushed conversation between Willy and the doctor.

"Mr. Nelson, the child could have been saved. Why did you order us to stop resuscitation?" The doctor's voice was thick with disbelief. "That was your own son—he was only three!"

Willy's reply was cold, devoid of sorrow. "I never wanted him to live. His birth was a mistake. How dare he ask me for a birthday present? Was he already eyeing the company's inheritance?"

My blood ran cold.

"Sophia and I have a son who's about to turn eighteen. I promised her I'd give him the company as a coming-of-age gift. I won’t let anyone take that away from him."

My mind reeled. The love I thought we shared, the marriage I believed in—it had all been a lie. I had been living in a carefully constructed hell.

Fine. If that was what he wanted, I would grant him his wish.

——

The doctor sighed as he examined my wounds. "Madam was gravely injured, but her uterus is intact. She may still have the chance to bear children in the future."

Willy's voice turned sharp. "Who gave you permission to preserve it? Remove it completely. I want her to never conceive again."

The doctor gasped, horror evident in his tone. "Mr. Nelson, you're handing over the company to Sophia’s son in three days. Even if Madam were to have another child in the future, it wouldn’t change anything. She just lost her son—must you really go this far?"

Willy stroked my cheek gently, but his words were merciless. "Allowing her to give birth to that cursed child was already my greatest mistake. And that mistake had the audacity to ask me for a birthday present. He must have been after the inheritance."

"I swore to Sophia that no one would compete with our son for his rightful fortune. Even if she married another man back then, I vowed to eliminate every obstacle for her and our child."

A knock on the operating room door interrupted them. A chillingly familiar voice echoed in the sterile room.

"Mr. Nelson, thank you for forging the psychiatric evaluation that got me acquitted. I did my part—I got rid of the brat. Now, about my reward..."

Willy’s voice was dismissive. "I’ll have someone transfer five million dollars to your account. Take the money and leave the capital. Never show your face in front of Carol Shirley again."

The man chuckled. "Pleasure doing business."

Willy turned back to the doctor. "Hurry up and proceed with the surgery. I still have to take Sophia to pick out the gift I ordered for Benny. Oh, and be sure to use extra anesthesia—I don’t want Carol to feel any pain."

The footsteps faded into the distance. I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to cry. It was never a random attack. The man wasn’t mentally ill at all. He had been hired—by my own husband.

My little boy... my precious child... had been murdered. On his birthday. All because of a fabricated lie. And the one who orchestrated it all was his own father.

Agonizing pain tore through my body as the cold surgical instruments moved within me. My anesthesia immunity made every cut, every incision, a living nightmare. The agony finally overwhelmed me and I blacked out.

When I opened my eyes again, Willy was beside me. His gaze was filled with feigned sorrow, his tone dripping with affection.

"Carol, you're finally awake. Does it still hurt?" He reached for my hand, his grip warm, yet sickeningly deceitful. "I've been outside the operating room this whole time. You don’t know how scared I was. Losing Liam is already the greatest pain of my life. If anything had happened to you, I wouldn’t have been able to live."

I stared at him, my heart hollow.

"Carol, the doctor said your abdominal wounds were severe. Your uterus was too damaged—you won’t be able to have children anymore. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life. Just the two of us. Isn’t being child-free a good thing?"

His words were poison disguised as honey. I felt nothing. No sadness, no anger, no fear. Only emptiness. And in that void, something dark and resolute began to take root.

I lowered my gaze to my abdomen, where the wound had been neatly stitched up. Yet, the emptiness inside me was a cruel reminder—I had been forever stripped of my ability to be a mother.

"Where's Liam?" I asked dully.

Willy's expression darkened with guilt. "He's been sent to the funeral home for cremation. The funeral is tomorrow. Carol, I'm sorry... As a father, I failed to protect our child."

A sharp pain stabbed through my heart, but I didn’t expose his lies.

My eyes drifted to the bedside table, where a delicate box lay. Inside it was a long-life lock.

"Willy, today is Liam's birthday. We haven't bought him a present yet. Let this long-life lock accompany him. I hope he finds longevity and peace in the afterlife, okay?"

Willy’s brows twitched slightly, but he quickly masked his unease with a gentle smile. "Carol, a friend asked me to buy this for his child. How can we take it away from him?"

"It's meant for the living and Liam... he can’t wear it anymore. Besides, this material isn’t worth much. It doesn’t suit our Liam. I’ve already arranged for something more appropriate from the funeral store. Everything will be burned for him—he won’t feel shortchanged in the afterlife."

I didn’t argue, but my heart sank further. Willy had long forgotten that before becoming a housewife, I was a skilled jewelry appraiser. The long-life lock was made of the highest quality jadeite—worth a fortune. Its intricate design was engraved with the words "peace year after year," a symbol of a parent's deepest love.

For two months, I had secretly watched Willy spending countless late nights in his study, meticulously designing this very pattern. I had foolishly believed it was meant for Liam's birthday gift. But in his heart, the ones truly unworthy were my son and me.

Under my insistence, Willy processed my discharge papers and took me home. He refused the nanny’s assistance, personally helping me bathe and wash my hair, carefully avoiding my wound. He even blow-dried my hair with gentle attention—a picture-perfect husband.

Once, I would have been moved by such tenderness. But as I stared at the grotesque scars on my stomach and thought of my son's cruel death, I felt only emptiness. My heart was a barren wasteland.

***

That night, while Willy slept, I crept into his study. Using my laptop, I accessed his cloud drive. The password was Sophia’s birthday.

Inside were tens of thousands of photos and videos, capturing every moment of Sophia’s pregnancy, the birth of their child and his growth over the years. And there, amidst the sea of memories, lay a prepared share transfer agreement.

Fifteen years of marriage—Willy had spent most of it traveling, supposedly for business expansion. But in reality, he had been by Sophia and their child's side all along. I had never once doubted him. How ridiculous.

A notification flickered in the corner of the screen—his WhatsApp was still logged in. A single click opened a chat group pinned at the top: "A Loving Family of Three."

The words burned into my vision. For eighteen years, Willy had showered Sophia and their child with countless lavish gifts.

"Willy, Benny is just a newborn. How can he drive a Maserati? You're spoiling him too much! Ohz and by the way, I adore the sapphire necklace you got me. Mwah!"

"Willy, Benny is three years old today. The island you bought for him is breathtaking! You'll be arriving this afternoon, right? He can't wait to see his daddy."

All that love. All that devotion. Things Little Liam and I never had.

I had once been a rising star in the jewelry industry, but I gave up everything at twenty to marry Willy. I devoted myself to him, endured hardships by his side, sacrificed my body and struggled for years before finally conceiving—only to have him treat it as nothing more than an inconvenience.

I used to think his indifference was meant to ease my burden. I had even been grateful for his so-called understanding. But in the fifteenth year of our marriage, when I finally became pregnant, he had not been overjoyed. He had only forced a smile—a mere formality. And now, everything made sense.

But when I saw the photo of Willy kissing Sophia’s swollen belly, his face glowing with pure joy, I realized the cruel truth—he had already built a family with someone else.

And my Little Treasure? In his eyes, my child was nothing more than an unwanted burden, like an inflamed appendix that needed to be cut away as soon as possible.

No wonder. No wonder that every year on Liam’s birthday, Willy had always made excuses about urgent business trips abroad.

Because his other child’s birthday was only three days after Liam’s. He had to be there early, making sure everything was perfect—making sure his "real" child never felt neglected.

Heartbroken, I exited the page and called my best friend overseas. “I want to work for your company as a jewelry appraiser. I’ll see you in three days.” I also asked her for a few favors.

After finishing, I went to Liam’s room. Everything was still the same—the bedding still in place, his tiny pillow still carrying the faint scent of milk. But Liam would never return to sleep in it again.

Underneath his pillow, I found a small wishing bottle. Inside was a note, written by his teacher, recording his birthday wish.

"The teacher said a man must be brave, so this year, I finally gathered the courage to tell Daddy that I wanted a birthday present. But before I could even finish my sentence, Daddy walked away angrily. Actually, all I wanted was for Daddy to stay with me on my birthday, even just for an hour. Thirty minutes would be fine. I’d be happy… really happy."

Tears blurred my vision. Willy, is this what you saw as ambition? Was a child’s innocent wish truly that unbearable for you?

I printed the divorce papers that night, then clung to Liam’s quilt, breathing in his scent as I sobbed until dawn.

***

The next morning, Willy, despite his usual obsession with cleanliness, personally cleaned my wound, changed my bandages and carefully wrapped them with gauze.

The nanny beside us looked envious of his attentiveness, but my heart was dead inside.

He noticed my swollen, red eyes and sighed, his voice full of pain.

“Carol, I know you miss Liam. I miss him even more than you do. But you need to take care of yourself. I’ve already lost my beloved child—I can’t lose you too. Why don’t you rest at home today? Let me handle Liam’s funeral.”

Leave it to you? Leave it to the very man who orchestrated my child’s murder? I swallowed back my bitter sarcasm and replied in a flat voice, “No need. I have to see Little Treasure off for the last time.”

At the funeral, from a distance, I saw Sophia and a teenage boy standing beside my mother-in-law, supporting her like the perfect daughter-in-law and grandson.

The boy was smiling as he spoke, making her laugh with joy. It was a solemn event, yet Sophia wore a luxurious red designer dress and even the boy was dressed in an eye-catching crimson suit. Unlike the rest of us dressed in mourning black, they stood out like guests at a celebration.

My mother-in-law, completely ignoring the grieving atmosphere, clung to them with obvious favoritism, doting on them as if they were her real family. To shield them from the sun, she even ordered a maid to hold an umbrella over them—as if Sophia were her rightful daughter-in-law and the boy her cherished grandson.

Then Sophia turned to me, curling her lips into a mocking smile. “Auntie, I’m fine under the sun. Carol is here, though. The sun is so harsh—better let her have the umbrella. After all, unlike me, she’s both childless and injured. She needs extra care.”

Hearing this, my mother-in-law sneered, her face twisting with disdain as she looked at me.

"It’s just a dead brat. What’s the big deal? Who are you trying to impress with those grieving eyes? Acting all high and mighty, completely forgetting the dignity of our Nelson Family."

She scoffed before continuing, "Even Sophia and Benny have better manners than you. The moment they landed, they rushed here to support me, bringing me expensive jade bracelets. They’re a thousand times more thoughtful than you, you ungrateful wretch."

She had always despised me. From the very start, she never thought I was good enough for Willy. And when I struggled for over a decade to conceive, she labeled me a useless hen who couldn’t lay eggs.

Later, when I finally had Liam, she hated him too. Because despite his young age, he always stood up for me. And in her eyes, that made him a traitor—an ungrateful child who sided against his own bloodline.