Chapter 1

After I woke up from the car accident, my husband told me that our newborn son was severely injured and had already passed away.

Afraid I would be heartbroken, he said he had already buried our son.

Four years later, just as I was beginning to heal from the pain of losing my son, I suddenly received an email.

"Your son is not dead. Your husband gave him to someone else."

I couldn't help but confront my husband, but overheard his call with a friend.

"The child's condition is very serious. Only his biological mother, Estella Dean, can donate bone marrow to him."

"You never should have done that back then. I know you pitied your sister-in-law for being widowed so young and losing her own child, but you can't just give away your own son to her."

Only then did I realize that the email was actually telling the truth.

If that was the case, I'd play along with his game.

I would not only reclaim my son but also make those responsible pay the price.

From the study, my husband, Princeton Massey, angrily shouted.

I pretended I had just heard the commotion, gently pushed open the door, and looked concerned.

"What happened? I just heard you mention a bone marrow transplant. Does this mean Henry's illness can be treated?"

When Princeton heard my voice, he clearly grew uneasy.

He hastily set aside his phone and said, "That's right, the doctor just called and said you and Henry are a successful match."

I nodded. "That's wonderful. Let's hurry to the hospital to prepare for the transplant."

I said this because I truly wanted to save my son—and also to lower Princeton's guard.

As expected, Princeton was both surprised and delighted. He hugged me tightly. "Estella, thank you."

His embrace was still warm, but my heart felt cold.

That year, not long after I gave birth, my child and I were in a car accident on our way home.

When I woke up, Princeton told me with a grief-stricken face that my child had died.

For more than half a year after that, depression tormented me until I was a wreck. I cried every day, and whenever I closed my eyes, I seemed to see the tiny body of my child.

During that time, Princeton stayed by my side every day, catering to my every need and taking meticulous care of me.

I thought he was my salvation, but I did not expect that he would be the one who pushed me into hell.

We rushed to the hospital, where I asked the doctor in detail about bone marrow transplantation.

After leaving the doctor's office, I was thinking about how to get Princeton to leave so I could be alone with my son.

At that moment, a call came from Leighton Key.

She said she was worried about the child's illness and couldn't sleep all night, asking Princeton to bring her sleeping pills.

I sneered in my heart. If she really cared about the child, she should have come to the hospital to look after him.

She did this because she was afraid that if I spent too much time with Princeton, he would ignore her.

However, this actually gave me an opportunity.

After Princeton left, I went to the hospital room to see my son.

Henry smiled as soon as he saw me and greeted me in a sweet, childlike voice, "Hello, Estella."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I gently held him in my arms, gripping his small hand.

But soon, I noticed something was wrong.

Henry's delicate arms were covered with scars.

I furrowed my brow and asked softly, my heart aching, "Honey, what happened to your injuries?"

My son lowered his head timidly and whispered, "Mom hit me."

It felt as if my heart had been struck with a heavy hammer, so painful that I could hardly breathe.

Over the past few years, Leighton was afraid I'd notice something was wrong, so she rarely brought Henry to see me.

That was why I never realized that Henry suffered so much abuse from her.

I gently touched his head, feeling heartbroken, and asked, "Did you tell Princeton?"

Henry nodded. "I did. Princeton said if I behaved better next time, Mom won't hit me."

I was shaking with anger, my hands and feet icy cold.

Henry was his own son, yet he completely ignored Leighton's abuse.

There was a bond between mother and child, and I couldn't hold back any longer; I burst into tears in front of my child.

Henry acted very sensibly, reaching out his small hand to wipe away my tears, comforting me like an adult.

He said, "I really like you. Please don't cry."

I stroked his face, holding back my grief, choking as I asked, "Would you like to stay at my house? I will buy you lots of toys and snacks."

Henry's eyes lit up instantly. He clapped his little hands excitedly and said, "Yes! As long as I'm well fed, I don't care where we go."

He would go with me just as long as he got enough to eat.

How did Leighton and Princeton actually treat him?

My chest ached so fiercely it stole my breath, and all I could do was wrap my son gently in my arms.