Scott's tone carried a hint of guilt that he hadn't even noticed. Gillian had suddenly developed heart disease after returning from abroad.

On Children's Day, Scott and I took Emmet to the amusement park. She merely posted a photo looking pale and Scott immediately abandoned me and our son to rush to her side.

Even when Emmet had a high fever and was deliriously calling for his Daddy, Scott left without looking back, just because Gillian called, saying her chest hurt and only he could massage it to make her feel better.

Gillian's condition flared up unpredictably, always coincidentally during the rare times our small family spent together. After witnessing one of her dramatic fainting episodes firsthand, Scott had everyone in the company undergo a heart matching test.

For those who were compatible and willing to sign an organ donation agreement, he offered massive cash rewards. I had heard about this, but I never thought he would target his own family. How could he trade our child's life for Gillian's?

When my suspicions were confirmed, my heart ached so much that it was hard to breathe. I had slaved away for the Spears Family for seven years, all to give Emmet a complete family.

But in the end, I had only caused him to die in pieces at such a young age. The hatred in my heart reached its peak.

"Scott, let's get a divorce," I said coldly. Staying with a man like him for even one more day would be a betrayal to Emmet's memory.

"Huh! Do you think you're funny? You're asking me for a divorce? What about Emmet? Where will you live? What will you eat if we divorce?" Scott's tone was filled with disdain, his words stabbing at my heart.

I replied, "That's none of your concern. You just need to sign."

When Gillian had just returned to the country, Scott had already asked me for a divorce. I had begged him not to, not just for our child's sake but also for my own selfish reasons.

Plus, when his mother found out Gillian had heart disease and couldn't have children, she strongly opposed letting her into the family. That was the only reason our fragile marriage had survived.

I grew up in a single-parent household. My mother had been deceived by my scumbag father when she was young. By the time she realized she was pregnant with me, it was too late and she had no choice but to have me.

My grandparents thought my mother had disgraced the family and kicked her out.

Fortunately, I was a good student, always achieving top grades. That's how I met Scott at an elite high school.

He was the golden boy, admired by all the girls. It was impossible not to have feelings for him. During our graduation party, the youthful excitement and hormones ran high.

I didn't have the courage to approach him directly, but I did bravely leave him with our child.

When his mother found me, I felt both fear and a glimmer of hope. It was common for wealthy families to keep the child and discard the mother, but could I possibly become his wife?

On the day I married into the Spears Family, Scott's eyes were filled with disdain, unfamiliarity and anger, but not even a trace of affection. He had clearly forgotten all about me.

He only knew the information his people had gathered, that I, like my mother, was an immoral woman who got pregnant out of wedlock.

Even though Emmet looked eighty percent like him, he still couldn't bring himself to care.

But I had been blinded by my infatuation, foolishly believing that time would eventually make him see my sincerity, or at the very least, the bond he shared with Emmet through blood.

As long as we were still legally married, I thought there was still a chance I could win his heart. But I had underestimated Gillian Rosenberg, the woman Scott loved so deeply that he would remain unmarried for life if it meant being with her.

Her reappearance had shattered everything I had worked so hard for. All my efforts to please him were nothing more than attempts, in his eyes, to secure the luxurious life of a rich man's wife.

After hanging up the phone, I quickly contacted a lawyer to draft the divorce papers. Kissing Emmet's forehead one last time, I wheeled myself out of the morgue.

When I returned to my hospital room, the police investigating the car accident were already waiting for me. He said, "We have partial surveillance footage from the scene of the accident. Would you like to take a look?"

"We've captured a blurry image of the suspect's face and if you can identify them, it would greatly help our investigation," a young female officer tentatively offered.

I nodded. The person responsible for Emmet's death had to be brought to justice.

Though I had braced myself for it, seeing the footage of Emmet's small body being repeatedly crushed by the car's wheels felt like someone was squeezing my heart with a brutal grip, making even breathing painful.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face as I gripped the bed sheets, suppressing the screams rising from my throat.

Every second I continued watching was like another knife slicing through my soul. Even though my vision blurred with tears, I forced myself to keep looking.

I was frustrated and said, "I can't recognize this person ... I'm so useless! It should've been me that died!" I pounded my head in agony, cursing myself for not remembering anything about this person.

The policewoman, unable to bear watching me hurt myself, stepped forward and embraced me. I finally broke down, sobbing in her arms.

The police said, "Miss Spears, don't blame yourself too much. The one at fault is the criminal, not the victim."

"The vehicle was using a fake license plate, which suggests this was a premeditated crime. We will get to the bottom of this. We've been trying to contact the child's father, but we can't reach him. Could you help us by getting in touch with him?" she continued.

At the mention of Scott, I remained expressionless. "I'm divorcing him, but I'll try," I said.

Everyone in the room gave me a look filled with even more sympathy. The lawyer was efficient and the divorce agreement had already been drafted.

I immediately forwarded it to Scott and called him, handing the phone to the police.

Unexpectedly, he answered right away and without hesitation, began yelling at me, "Kiera, are you serious about this? All I did was sign that organ donation agreement for Emmet. Is that worth divorcing over?"

"I've told you so many times that Gillian is having surgery today and I can't leave her side. Do you really have to cause a scene today of all days?"

The officer holding the phone was bewildered, struggling to find a moment to interject and said, "Mr. Spears, we are police officers investigating your son's car accident. Where are you right now? We need your cooperation."

Hearing a stranger's voice, Scott paused, "What car accident? My son is perfectly fine at school! It's your son who got in an accident!"

"Stop pretending to be the police. If you're the police, then I'm your chief!" Scott obviously didn't believe it and thought I was playing tricks on him.

After the police accurately and quickly reported a string of my family's information, the phone was silent for a long time.

Then Scott's ridicule suddenly broke out, "Kiera, the extras you hired are quite professional! They know their lines so well, how long have they been rehearsing?"

The officer looked at me, speechless. They'd never encountered someone so stubborn. Having lost their patience, they turned on the video feed, showing themselves in uniform. Even then, Scott remained incredulous.

"The school told us that during class, someone claiming to be the boy's father called and arranged for someone to pick him up. That's why they allowed him to leave," the officer explained after the video cut off.

We must find him and ask him face to face. I provided clues to the police.

Following the line of heart donation, Scott's whereabouts would surely be traced.