Chapter 1
The year my son turned five, I finally saw the truth–he never loved me or our child.
To end this miserable marriage, I decided to take my son and leave.
But fate had other plans.
A car accident shattered our escape. I lost a kidney. My son lost an eye.
In my darkest moment, the man who had always been cold and distant suddenly knelt before me in
public, begging for forgiveness.
He swore he would be my and our son’s rock for life.
We gave him a hundred–day trial.
If he passed, we would stay.
But on the ninety–ninth day…
My son and I accidentally overheard his conversation with the attending doctor.
“President Peterson, was it really worth it? To stage that accident just to save Miss Quill’s child–stealing
your wife and son’s organs in the process?”
“Worth it,” Harry Peterson answered without hesitation. “As long as Olivia Quill is happy, I’d do anything.”
“And if your wife and son find out?”
Harry fell silent. Then, as if by reflex, his fingers brushed over his wedding ring. His voice was calm.
hat then
“Then I’ll make sure they never do. All they want is a family, right? I’ll give them that. I’ll compensate them with everything I have.”
So that was it.
His so–called change of heart, his desperate repentance–just another carefully spun lie.
The happiness my son and I thought we had?
Nothing but an illusion crafted to protect the woman he truly loved.
The gifts he gave us came with a hidden price tag.
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In his office, Harry carefully reviewed the medical report the doctor handed him. Finally, the weight in
his heart eased.
“Charlie’s eye transplant was a success. Lucas can be discharged now. That’s a relief.”
The doctor was fuming. He couldn’t hold back anymore.
“President Peterson! No matter how much you love Miss Quill, she is not your wife!”
“You illegally took your own son’s organ for her child. If this ever gets out, the entire hospital will be shut
down!”
“Was it really worth it?”
Harry’s expression turned cold. He slammed the report onto the desk.
“Enough. It’s not your place to question me. Olivia only has one child–how could I just stand by and do nothing?”
“It’s just an eye. It won’t affect his life.”
The doctor was shaking with anger.
“And you think your wife and son will never find out?”
“What will you do if they realize you almost killed them for Miss Quill’s sake?”
Harry didn’t answer. He pulled out his phone and stared at the lock screen–a photo of the three of us, smiling like a perfect family.
His gaze darkened.
“They won’t find out. I’ve hidden it well.”
“Besides…”
Harry turned off the screen and spoke with quiet certainty.
“Sophia Steward and Charlie love me.”
I gripped my son’s hand tighter. The ice–cold chill spread from my fingers to my heart, making me shiver uncontrollably.
I still remember that day–when my six–year–old son lay in the ICU, staring blankly at the ceiling as he
asked me.
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“Mom, where’s my left eye? Why can’t I see?”
That day, I cried until my throat went hoarse, until my whole body convulsed, until I wished I were dead.
I hated myself for trying to take him away.
Hated myself for failing to protect him.
Hated myself for being an unfit mother.
But most of all…
I should have hated Harry.
Beside me, my son clamped a hand over his mouth, his small body trembling. He couldn’t believe it.
The person who had taken his eye… was his own father.
Harry closed the report and spoke in a lighthearted, almost cheerful tone.
“Since Olivia and her child have recovered, it’s time for them to come back.”
“Make the arrangements. And remember–never let Sophia find out.”
Footsteps approached. Panicking, I grabbed my son and hid.
But it was too late.
“Sophia? Charlie?”
“What are you two doing here?”
Harry’s voice wavered. Even his breathing hitched for a moment.
My son and I exchanged glances, quickly wiping away our tears.
I took a deep breath and turned around, my voice calm.
“You were taking too long with the report, so we came to find you.”
“We got lost and almost ended up in the wrong place.”
Harry visibly relaxed. A faint smile touched his lips–until I spoke again.
“What’s that in your hand? Is it our medical report?”
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I stepped forward, reaching for the folder while keeping my eyes locked on his face.
Harry’s gaze flickered. He hid the report behind his back.
“W–We can look at it at home. There’s no rush.”
His lips were pale from nervousness.
I scoffed inwardly, retracting my hand.
Gripping my son’s hand, I turned and walked away.
Harry hesitated for a second before quickly catching up, scooping my son into his arms like he always did these past ninety–nine days–gentle, affectionate, devoted.
But this time, my son didn’t cling to him like before.
He stiffened, his gaze empty.
Harry didn’t notice. He held him all the way to the car, only speaking again as he adjusted the child seat.
Chapter 2
