Chapter 2

The next few days were unusually quiet at home.

I had my lawyer freeze all of Michael's supplementary cards and trust funds.

I also revoked his manager position at my company. It was a role that was only in name, anyway.

I cut off all his sources of income.

Within three days, Fiona Parker, my business rival and former "bestie," called me.

She said, "Grace, I heard your family's got a 'kept man' now? Word's all over town. Your precious son is ditching his last name for his wife and walking out on the family.

"Looks like all that fortune you built up is about to fall into someone else's hands."

Her smug laughter on the other end of the line was especially grating.

I hung up, expressionless.

This whole fiasco was seriously damaging my company's reputation. A few partners I was negotiating with were starting to hesitate.

I had to take decisive action and put an end to this, fast.

I called in Andy Carter, my company's chief legal counsel. "Andy, I want to set up a family trust.

"I'll be the sole beneficiary. And I want to draw up a will. After I'm gone, all my assets will be donated to the Impoverished Children Foundation."

Andy paused for a moment and then understood my intention. "Ms. Hamilton, are you sure about this? If you do this, Mr. Michael Hamilton won't be able to inherit any of your assets in the future."

"I'm sure," I replied.

The day after I signed the papers with Andy, Michael turned up outside the office building.

He looked much more worn out, unshaven, and his designer shirt was wrinkled and rumpled.

The security guards blocked him outside the entrance, and he yelled at me through the glass doors. "Mom, I was wrong! Let me in."

I told the security guards to let him in.

As soon as he entered my office, he bowed to me, clutching my leg and sobbing uncontrollably. "Mom, I messed up. Emily and Emma pushed me into it.

"They said if the kid took their last name, you'd cave sooner or later, and then the company would be ours.

"I lost my mind for a second and did something stupid. Mom, I've already started the divorce with Emily."

He was bawling, snot and tears streaming down his face, looking utterly remorseful.

Desperate to convince me, he fumbled out his phone, pulled up a photo, and shoved it in my face.

It was a shot of the divorce filing receipt, blurry, but I could still clearly see both his and Emily's names on it.

Seeing him like that, my heart was in turmoil. I couldn't put my feelings into words.

After all, he was my son, the kid I'd kept for more than twenty years.

He said, "Mom, Emily won't agree to the divorce. She's after my money. My lawyer said if I can show I've got the money and can take care of the kid, I might get custody."

He looked up at me, desperation written all over his face. "Mom, could you maybe put 51% of the company shares in my name temporarily?

"It's for show. Once I win the case and get custody, I'll hand them right back. There's no way I'm letting my kid take the Warren name."

He was sobbing, every word like a punch to my heart. I stared at him, unable to say anything for a long time.

Seeing my son so full of regret, I couldn't help but soften.

I didn't agree to his ridiculous request to have the shares transferred to him, but seeing that he genuinely wanted to make things right, I decided to give him another chance.

"As for the shares, that's out of the question," I said.

Seeing his face turn pale, I continued, "But if you truly want to make amends, I can help you."

I instructed the finance department to unfreeze his personal account and transferred 600 thousand to him as a lump sum.

"This money is for your lawsuit and to fight for custody of your child. I hope you won't disappoint me again," I said.

Michael's eyes practically sparkled when he saw the deposit notification from the bank.

He thanked me, promising on everything he had that he'd make a clean break with Emily and bring my grandson back home to the Hamilton family.

For the next week, he really did act like a prodigal son who'd finally come home.

Every day, he'd check in on me, ask how I was doing, and cook, making all my favorite dishes.

The food wasn't anything special, but seeing him busy in the kitchen, I felt a bit of warmth start to melt my frozen heart.

Maybe he really had been led astray.

But that little bit of peace didn't last long. After a week, everything fell apart again.

Michael showed up again, looking more desperate than last time. "M-mom, the money is not enough," he said, his voice full of anxiety.

I frowned. "600 thousand for a lawyer? How is that not enough?"

"Emily is vicious," Michael spat, his face twisted with frustration. "She went and hired the top lawyer in town, and now she's accusing me of cheating. She faked evidence.

"She wants me to leave with nothing and pay her 900 thousand as compensation for all the years she wasted on me. If not, she won't sign the divorce papers, and she'll make sure I never see my kid again. I can't lose my son."

Michael broke down again, tears streaming down his face.

A flicker of doubt crossed my mind.

I knew all about Emily's family situation. How could she possibly afford to hire the top lawyer in town?

"Go on home for now. Let me think this over," I told him.

I didn't give him an answer right away.

As soon as he left, I called my private investigator.

"I want you to look into Michael and Emily. Track all their recent moves and any money changing hands between them," I told him.

My gut told me this was way more complicated than it seemed.

The investigator was fast. One day later, a detailed report landed on my desk.

The contents of that report hit me like a bucket of ice water, chilling me to the bone.

Michael and Emily never actually filed for divorce at all.

That "divorce filing receipt" was a photoshopped fake.

The 600 thousand I sent to Michael? He immediately used it to buy a high-end penthouse downtown, paying the full amount up front.

The property deed was boldly registered under Emily's name only.

The three of them had already moved in, living out their so-called "independent" family life.

The last page of the report had a few photos.

In the pictures, Michael and Emily were out on the balcony of their brand new penthouse, raising their glasses with their kid and Emily's parents, all smiles as they celebrated.

Michael was grinning from ear to ear, looking like he was on top of the world. There wasn't a trace of the remorse or exhaustion he'd shown me before.

They saw me as an absolute fool, a cash machine they could milk whenever they pleased.

My hands trembled uncontrollably as I gripped the report.

Then, the office door swung open.

Michael and Emily strolled in, arm in arm, with smug smiles plastered on their faces.

Emma followed behind them, strutting like a victorious general.

"Thank you so much for the 600 thousand. Our new place is gorgeous," Emily said.

She dangled a set of shiny new car keys in front of me, flashing an innocent smile.

"Oh, and by the way, we'll need another 900 thousand. Raising a kid isn't cheap, you know," she added.

I looked at them and let out a bitter laugh, so sharp it nearly brought tears to my eyes.