After My Son's Death, I Reclaimed My Identity as a Wealthy Socialite

It was a torrential downpour. My billionaire husband, Alex, was supposed to be dropping our son off for his crucial college entrance exam. But he suddenly ditched Leo on the side of the road, abandoning him to rush to the hospital instead. Why? His secretary was pregnant. Leo, unable to hail a cab in the storm, ran for his life, desperate to make it on time. He was hit by a truck. By the time I got the call and raced to the hospital, Leo was already gone.

As I collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably, Alex Thorne called.

“Honey, apologize to Leo for me. Britt’s pregnant, and I had to rush over.”

“I was drunk that night, but the baby’s mine, so I have to take responsibility.”

“Didn’t you always want a daughter? Once the baby’s born, you can raise her.”

When I didn’t speak, he added, “The girl is still young, doesn’t know how to be a mom. I need to be with her for a few days.”

I wiped my tears, calmly replying, “Okay.”

After Leo’s funeral, I drafted a divorce agreement. Then I dialed a certain number.

“You’ve always wanted to take down the Thorne family, haven’t you? I won’t stop you anymore.”