My Perfect Marriage Was His Perfect Crime novel Chapter 35

At my son's second birthday party, he accidentally drank an entire cup of liquor, leading to alcohol poisoning.

My husband Elon Gray completely lost control, rushing him to the hospital with frantic, desperate urgency.

He cried, collapsing to his knees at the door of the emergency room, begging the doctors with everything he had to save his son.

But despite every prayer, my son was left in a state of irreversible dementia.

Meanwhile, I was occur a car accident on my way to the hospital. By some miracle, I survived, clinging only to my life.

Six months later, I overheard a conversation between my husband and his assistant outside the study.

"Mr. Gray, you're truly heartless. Even your own son, you sacrificed him without a second thought. When you told me to force-feed him liquor, I almost couldn't bring myself to do it."

"And what about Natalie? She's already been through so much, and yet you orchestrated her car accident just to steal her heart and give it to Eva?"

"An artificial heart needs replacing every five years. Can you really watch her suffer in agony for the rest of her life?" my husband's voice was hoarse, but unwavering, cold in its determination.

"I had no choice. Eva risked her life to carry my child. I couldn't give her a name, so I made sure her son would be the only heir to the Gray family."

"As for Natalie and the child, I'll take care of them for the rest of their lives. This way, they will never be a threat to Eva and her son."

It was then I realized: my child, was nothing but expendable.

And I, merely a casualty in his tangled love affair.

The assistant spoke again, his tone tinged with pity.

"Natalie's body can't handle much more. Why are you still coaxing her into donating blood to Eva?"

Elon sighed after a long silence.

"I don't want to, but after Eva got her new heart, she didn't get better. She told me the doctor said her heart was still lacking in blood flow, and Natalie's blood might help."

Tears flooded my eyes uncontrollably.

I remembered not long ago, when he asked me to donate blood.

After the heart transplant, I would often faint and vomit blood, so I refused to give in easily.

But he looked at me with such deep affection, persuading me that it was to wish our son well.

He knew exactly where my weakness lay, and how to exploit it.

Now I knew the truth-there was no blessing involved. He simply saw me as a blood donor for his beloved.

I held my mouth tightly, suppressing the cry that wanted to escape.

Though I had no heart left, it still hurt unbearably.

The bowl of bird's nest porridge I was holding slipped from my hand and crashed to the floor.

The shards of glass pierced my foot, and though it stung, it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart.

Footsteps approached from the study.

I pressed my chest and staggered back to my room.

Looking at my son's peaceful face as he slept, my emotions shattered.

He had just started to call "daddy," and now had been poisoned by Elon.