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My son Lucas Grant was made to call another woman Mom. Charles Grant had his arm wrapped around Isabelle Lane, sneering coldly at the servants. "If Olivia Lynn throws one more tantrum, send her straight to the hospital. That's exactly where she belongs." When speaking of me, the rightful mistress of this villa, the staff all echoed the same cruel sentiment. "A lunatic with a shattered mind is in no way fit to be a mother." No one seemed to remember the day Charles married me. He'd held me like a priceless treasure and promised everyone openly, "This is my beloved wife. She is gentle and timid. I ask that you all treat her well." Everyone expected me to endure it all once more, to swallow the agony of having my own son stolen from me, and continue playing the part of the deranged woman in front of Charles. My dignity lay in tatters, and my sanity was constantly called into question. But this time, I was done with Charles for good.