On the night the college entrance exam scores were released, I watched my son slip out of the house under the cover of darkness. I saw him leave, yet I did nothing to stop him.

Why would I? I had already died once because of him.

In my previous life, I knew my wife's obsession—her "first love"—intended to harm our son. To protect him, I locked Frankie inside the house.

Years later, Frankie Pruitt graduated from a prestigious university and built a brilliant career, admired by thousands. I foolishly expected gratitude. Instead, when I was sixty and lying on a hospital bed, my own son reached out and pulled the plug on my oxygen.

"You useless leech," Frankie sneered, his face twisted with hatred. "If you hadn't stopped me back then, Mom and I would've been living the good life with Uncle John."

Beside him, my wife clapped her hands. "Finally! Aaron Pruitt, you ruined our family. You should've died years ago!"

Tears burned my eyes as darkness took me. I died filled with hate.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back—the very night Frankie sneaked out of the house.

——

This time, I didn't take a single step out of the bedroom. I waited in the dark until a notification lit up my phone. A stranger had added me on WeChat and sent a video.

"Mom! Dad! Help me! Pay them... hurry, they're going to kill me!"

The moment I hit play, my son's screams filled the room.

In the grainy footage, Frankie was shackled with heavy chains. His clothes were soaked in blood, his eyes wide with terror. He looked exactly as I had on my deathbed—helpless.

[Bring $3,000,000 before 5:00 a.m. No police. If you call the cops, he dies.]

The kidnappers had named their price.

[Please don't hurt my son. I will raise the money immediately.]

I typed the lie quickly. Then I dialed my wife, Bella Henson.

The phone rang. And rang.

I called a dozen times. No answer. I sent text after text. Silence.

I knew exactly where she was. Right now, Bella was with John Dickerson, the man she'd been obsessed with for decades. He'd recently returned from abroad, and she was probably standing by his side, enjoying the sea breeze and watching the stars while our son bled.

In my previous life, I'd overheard John's plan. I stopped Frankie from leaving, then helped the police arrest John. My reward for saving them? Betrayal and murder.

This time, I wouldn't make the same mistake.

I walked to my in-laws' bedroom and pounded on the door. "Something's happened!"

"What are you making all that noise for?"

The door swung open. My father-in-law didn't wait for an explanation—he slapped me hard across the face.

"Useless waste of space," he spat. "What kind of madness has possessed you in the middle of the night?"

"Howling over every little thing," my mother-in-law grumbled from the bed. "Compared to Little Chen, you're worthless. Truly our bad luck to have a son-in-law like you."

This was my life in the Henson household. I handled every chore, cooked every meal, stayed up night after night when they were sick. In return—beatings, insults, treated worse than the family dog. Even on their deathbeds in my past life, they never gave me a kind look.

"Frankie's been kidnapped!"

I swallowed the blood in my mouth, feigning panic. "The kidnappers want three million, or they'll kill him."

I shoved the phone in their faces—the video, the chat logs.

"Oh my god! My grandson! Why is he covered in blood?"

"You trash!" My father-in-law shoved me. "What are you standing there for? Get the money! Now!"

They were frantic, heartbroken for their precious grandson. One pushed me toward the door while the other slapped my arm.

"Dad, Mom," I sighed. "Have you forgotten? Bella controls all the money. I don't even know where the bank cards are."

Since the day we married, I'd handed every cent of my salary to Bella. I lived on a hundred fifty dollars a month. I had to file a request just to buy groceries.

I wore the same underwear for ten years until it fell apart. I wore my father-in-law's cast-offs. I endured decades of humiliation for one reason: I loved Bella Henson.

That love was gone. And tonight, they would all learn the cost of my silence.

In my past life, I believed compromise could be traded for love. That if I endured enough, cared enough, I could eventually warm Bella's heart.

I was wrong.

It wasn't until moments before my death that I learned the truth: Bella had never stopped thinking about John. She refused to believe he would ever harm our son. The way she treated me—ordering me around like a dog, stripping me of my dignity—wasn't indifference. It was deliberate revenge.

Slap!

My head snapped to the side. Julian stood over me, chest heaving. "You piece of trash! Why haven't you called Bella yet?"

I touched my cheek, feeling the heat rise. "I called. I sent messages. She isn't responding."

"Impossible!" My mother-in-law scoffed. "Bella isn't heartless like you. That's her own son—how could she possibly not care? You're lying."

Julian's glare said he agreed.

Without a word, I unlocked my phone and held the screen up. A wall of red—dozens of outgoing calls, unread WeChat messages, ignored texts. The timestamps proved I'd been trying for hours.

Julian studied the screen, then the welt forming on my face. Guilt flickered in his eyes. He lowered his hand. "What exactly is she busy with? She keeps her phone on loud twenty-four hours a day. She never misses a call."

My mother-in-law wasn't convinced. "You must have done something to upset her. That's why she isn't answering." She let out a sharp breath. "Letting you marry into our family was a curse. If it weren't for you, my grandson wouldn't have been taken."

Every word an accusation.

Right, I thought bitterly. Because back then, it wasn't Bella who begged me to marry her.

Bzz bzz!

Bella was finally calling back.

My in-laws' spirits lifted instantly. "Answer it! Hurry!"

I tapped speaker. But the voice that drifted out wasn't hers.

"Bella's in the shower." A man's voice, dripping with arrogance. "What do you want?"

John.

The color drained from Julian and his wife's faces. They had no idea Bella was still in contact with him, let alone with him at this hour.

"Tell my wife our son has been kidnapped!" I shouted, feigning panic. "They want three million dollars!"

"Is that so?" John sounded bored. We heard fabric rustle, then a door opening.

"Hey!" Bella's voice came through, high-pitched and playful. "How can you just walk in while I'm showering? Get out, you pervert—you almost saw everything!"

Feigned modesty. Flirtation.

"Don't blame me," John said smoothly. "Aaron called. He insists Frankie's been kidnapped."

The intimacy was unmistakable.

Julian and his wife exchanged looks. They'd always believed their daughter was aloof, reserved. A workaholic. They never imagined she'd use work as an excuse to tryst with a man they despised.

Shuffling sounds. Bella snatched the phone. Her playful tone vanished, replaced by ice.

"Aaron Pruitt, have you lost your mind? Calling me in the middle of the night with this garbage?" she hissed. "Don't you know how busy I am with work?"

No pause. No breath.

"You narrow-minded, jealous little man. Using our son's life to lie, just to trick me into coming home? Pathetic!"

She thought Frankie had secretly come to find her and John. In her delusion, she probably imagined the three of them running away together. She couldn't fathom our son was actually in danger. To her, this was just another one of my tricks.

"I'm not lying," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Frankie was taken. Mom and Dad are right here—ask them."

I shoved the phone into Julian's trembling hand.

"Bella!" He barked, suppressing his anger at her infidelity to focus on the crisis. "The kidnappers said if we don't come up with three million by five in the morning, they'll kill him! Even if you don't come back, authorize the transfer!"

Silence. Then a scoff.

"Dad, don't be fooled by Aaron." Condescension dripped from every syllable. "Frankie just finished his exams—he's probably out partying. This is just Aaron trying to scam the family so he can run off with the money."

Bella didn't take it seriously at all.

"Normal? Are you out of your mind? The kidnappers sent a video!" Julian roared, his anxiety boiling into rage.

Valerie leaned in, trembling. "Bella, listen to me! Frankie is covered in blood. He was screaming for help... You need to get the money. Now!"

"Videos can be faked, Mom! Don't you know what kind of person Aaron is? He probably staged the whole thing. Stop bothering me with this nonsense."

Her tone was sharp with impatience. "I'm busy. I have work to do."

She hung up without waiting for a reply.

John immediately wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, breath hot against her ear. "Relax. Frankie is already at the airport."

"I know," Bella scoffed. "That idiot Aaron is still completely in the dark."

A smug smile played on her lips, but it faltered as she felt his hands roam lower. A shiver ran through her. "John... you're terrible... watch where you're putting those hands..."

They embraced, dissolving into intimate kisses, oblivious to the chaos they were ignoring.

Back at the house, Julian and Valerie shook with fury.

"She... she's abandoning her own son just to fool around with John," Julian stammered, face turning a dangerous purple.

"She's gone crazy!" Valerie sobbed.

Julian slammed his fist against his thigh. "That man is poison!"

"Maybe she really is working..." I offered weakly, deliberately playing the oblivious, spineless husband to stoke their anger.

"Enough!" Julian snapped. "How can you be this spineless? They're living together, for God's sake!"

His fists clenched until the knuckles cracked.

"John is scum. Chases skirts all day. I've warned Bella a thousand times, but she refuses to listen!" He paced the room, frantic. "What do we do? We don't have the cash on hand. Are we just going to watch Frankie die?"

Valerie wept uncontrollably.

"We could call the police," I suggested quietly. "It's almost three o'clock. The deadline is five. That gives us two hours."

"But the kidnappers said they'd kill him if we involved the cops..." Valerie's eyes went wide with terror.

"What choice do we have?" Julian slammed his teacup onto the table, shattering it. "That unfilial daughter of ours has been brainwashed by John. She doesn't care about anyone but him."

"I'll try her one more time," I said.

I dialed Bella's number.

"Sorry, the number you have dialed is powered off. Please try again later…"

She had turned off her phone.

"Unfilial! Absolutely heartless!" Julian shouted, his disappointment hitting rock bottom.

Just then, my phone buzzed. Another message from the kidnappers.

[Two hours left.]

It was accompanied by a second video. Far worse than the first. My son was soaked in what looked like chili water or chemicals. His face was beaten to a pulp, swollen beyond recognition—a grotesque, bloody mask.

Valerie screamed. Julian couldn't sit still any longer.

"Call the police! Now!"

Plainclothes officers arrived quickly. After assessing the situation, they instructed me to stall the kidnappers—lie and say the ransom was ready.

The kidnappers sent an exchange location and demanded I come alone.

Before I left, Julian and Valerie clasped their hands together, praying fervently for Jesus to protect their grandson.

But I knew the truth. Frankie wasn't coming back.

In John's plan, there was never an option for Frankie to survive. The videos were likely prerecorded hours ago.

I arrived at the drop-off point, a desolate stretch of road.

The moment the bagman appeared, the ambush sprang. Police swarmed from all directions, tackling him to the ground.

"Where is my son?! Is he okay?!"

I rushed forward, grabbing the kidnapper by his collar, shaking him violently. I had to sell the performance.

"He's been dead for hours!" The kidnapper threw his head back and laughed, showing zero remorse. "Who told you to drag your feet? You took too long, so we finished him! Hahahaha!"

The man was deranged.

"I'll kill you! Bastard!"

I lunged at him, landing a punch on his jaw before officers dragged me away.

An hour later, at the station.

The police had broken the kidnapper during interrogation. They led me to the morgue.

Frankie's body lay on the cold steel table. Tortured so brutally he barely looked human.

I threw myself over his corpse, letting out a guttural wail. As I lay there performing the devastated father, the door burst open.

Julian and Valerie rushed in, eyes landing on the mangled body of their grandson. The room filled with the sound of their heartbreak.