A Comeback After Betrayal
Chapter 1
After six years in prison, Amy Gonzalez walked out with a secret Samuel Lee knew nothing about—she had given birth to a daughter.
Six years ago, on a sweltering summer day, Amy switched on the air conditioner. That small act set off a chain of events that changed her life. Samuel’s foster sister suffered a miscarriage and later slipped into postpartum depression.
That “learning” lasted six years. And by her side now stood her most precious treasure—Laura Gonzalez, their daughter.
Amy had been pregnant when she entered prison. Whispers among the inmates claimed she could be released if Samuel relented. For the first three months, she made countless phone calls, begging for mercy. He never answered.
Atone? For what? For switching on an air conditioner? To Samuel, it was an unforgivable sin. To Amy, it was bewildering cruelty.
For six long years, he never once visited her.
Amy had once been the radiant jewel of Buffalo society. Now, she was a convict—mocked, trampled, discarded.
Before she could answer, a luxury car splashed muddy water onto them. She recognized it instantly—it was the birthday gift she had once given Samuel.
The man who stepped out was unrecognizable from the poor student she had once protected. Tailored suit. Cold eyes. Power radiating from every line of his posture.
The old Amy would have mocked him for believing Sharon’s lies. But she was no longer the untouchable heiress—she had no power left.
Each word landed like a lash. Amy’s heart, already frozen, turned solid ice.
She had once considered telling him about their daughter. But now, she knew better.
When they returned to the villa, a basin of dark liquid splashed over her and Laura.
“Sister-in-law,” Sharon Davis said sweetly, “you just got out of prison. Ritual cleansing blood washes away bad luck.”
Samuel instinctively stepped forward, as though to shield Amy. It was the habit of a bodyguard—one he once was.
That instinct was why Amy had fallen in love with him years ago. Whenever danger came, he had stood by her side.
“Dad, this is love,” she once declared with conviction. “I don’t care about his status or wealth. I will marry Samuel.”
Her father, Peter Gonzalez, had warned her: “He schemes too deeply. This mismatch in standing guarantees misery.”
But she had insisted, until Peter reluctantly gave in.
Only a month after their wedding, Samuel brought home Sharon—his so-called sworn sister and lifesaver.
Sharon trembled behind Samuel. “Sister-in-law, don’t look at me like that—it frightens me.”
Samuel’s expression hardened. “Enough! Six years in prison, and you’ve learned nothing.”
Amy’s chest tightened. They had stolen six years of her life, and now they wanted her last inheritance.
Her gaze turned icy. “And if I refuse?”
“This isn’t a negotiation.”
At his signal, bodyguards forced her to her knees, pressing her thumb onto the document despite her struggles.
“Samuel!” she cried, bloodshot eyes blazing. “How dare you treat me like this? Aren’t you afraid of my father’s vengeance?”
“Your father died the day after our wedding,” Samuel sneered. “And I don’t care to hear his name again.”
He handed the document to Sharon, leaving Amy broken on the floor.
Laura clung to her mother, sobbing. “Mommy, I don’t want this home. Can we go back to our old home?”
That night, after tucking Laura in, Amy stepped into the garden and dialed a number she hadn’t called in six years.
“Dad,” she whispered through tears, “you were right all along. I’m divorcing Samuel—and I’ll raise Laura on my own.”
Chapter 2
Minutes later, Peter sent the number. The captain, he said, was a former protégé—reliable, precise, loyal.
Amy was about to dial when chaos erupted inside the villa.
She dropped her phone and ran. Laura knelt on the marble, arms nearly twisted by a pair of burly bodyguards. Blood and gravel streaked the little girl’s palms and knees. Sharon leaned against Samuel and cried out, faux-innocent: “Sister-in-law, that child shoved me—can you imagine?”
Samuel turned to Amy as though offended on Sharon’s behalf. “I thought six years inside would’ve humbled you. Clearly you learned nothing.” He scoffed at Laura. “You bring back a brat to torment Sharon?”
“Sharon belongs to me,” he said, voice low and final. “Hurt her, and I’ll make you suffer tenfold.”
Two bodyguards dragged Laura into the garden and forced her to kneel, hands pressed to the cold stones. Amy lunged forward to block them and was shoved so hard she struck a table; stars flared behind her eyes. The sight of her child scraped across the ground, blood flecking tiny knees, sent a sound out of her that wasn’t quite a scream.
“Mommy, save me!” Laura’s cry cut through Amy like a blade.
A bucket of water, frozen by a winter wind, poured over Laura. Her body went limp with shock; sleep and hypothermia crept near. Amy’s restraint shattered. “Target me,” she croaked. “She’s just a child!”
The guards poured on, indifferent. Samuel walked away with Sharon pressed to his arm, leaving Amy on her knees as the winter air bit their skin.
For a terrifying second, Amy thought he might relent—for the child’s sake—but he did not. He had nothing left of the boy who once stood between her and danger; he had become something colder, hardened by power and the lie they’d built.
Trembling, Amy fumbled for her phone. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hit the numbers Peter had texted. She steadied herself on the walled garden, thumb hovering, and dialed the captain’s number.
If she couldn’t get Samuel to care for their child, she would have to become the kind of danger he hadn’t bargained for.
Chapter 3
She couldn’t protect herself. She certainly couldn’t protect Laura.
Outside in the courtyard, the child was growing weaker. Amy shoved past two guards. “She’s only a child! If she dies, you’ll all answer for it!”
Their faces, used to intimidation, finally changed. Fear at the thought of consequences made them step aside, and Amy fell to Laura’s side.
The little girl’s thin clothes were frozen stiff. Amy wrapped her coat tightly around her and pressed her body against Laura’s to give what warmth she could. “Hold on, sweetheart,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Once we reach Grandpa’s people, they’ll save us. Just hang on.”
Laura, raised the first years of her life inside prison, knew hardship too well for her age. Her teeth chattered, but she tried to comfort Amy. “Don’t cry, Mommy… is he… my daddy?”
“It’s okay,” Amy lied through her tears. “Don’t fall asleep. Mommy promises you anything.”
An hour later, fever robbed the child of consciousness.
Only then—after several frantic reports from the bodyguards—did Samuel relent and allow them inside. But his mercy had limits: no doctor would be called. By his order, no one in the house dared step forward with medicine.
When Amy tried to slip into Samuel’s study to fetch basic supplies, hands struck her back as if she were a thief. Every brick of that mansion had once been hers; now a few vials of medicine were theft.
Bruised and humiliated, she stumbled back to the bedroom and let herself collapse beside her daughter. She cried until her throat was raw. Samuel had once made grand promises: “I want a daughter. I’ll make her the happiest princess.” He had vowed that anyone who harmed their child would pay.
Those vows lay scattered like ash.
All night Amy kept cool compresses against Laura’s fevered brow. Dawn found no improvement; the fever worsened and the child’s sleep was restless and shallow.
Amy went from servant to servant, guard to guard, begging on her knees. Her dignity lay trampled in the hallways now, and still she begged: “Please, someone—give me medicine. My daughter is dying.”
This time a window opened. A familiar scent, a familiar silhouette—Samuel returned, immaculate in a suit, every bit the man who had seized the Gonzalez name and fortune. He watched her kneel with a thin, unreadable frown.
“So you’d truly abandon all dignity for that prison mate of yours,” he said, voice low but not unkind—more like a man testing a thing to see if it breaks.
Amy’s eyes had swollen shut from crying. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ve abandoned everything. Please save Laura.”
For the briefest moment, something like indecision crossed Samuel’s face. He glanced at the child. For reasons even he didn’t choose to voice, he wondered if the girl could be his. Then he looked again: Laura wore the Gonzalez name, not Lee. The doubt died.
His expression went cold. “Fine,” he said finally. “Sharon covets the Extreme Mountain Circuit championship trophy. You used to be the greatest racer. Win first place in that race, and I’ll authorize medical care for the child.”
The words dropped like a stone. Amy stared at him, incredulous. “You’re bargaining with my daughter’s life?”
Samuel’s jaw tightened. “Win, and I’ll ensure she’s treated—and I’ll consider recognizing whatever claim you want to make. Lose, and you’ll have nothing. You wanted divorce; you wanted custody. Prove you deserve them.”
He turned away, leaving the sentence unfinished but final. Amy was left on her knees, Laura limp in her arms, and a choice carved through her like a blade: accept an impossible trial in exchange for her child’s life—or refuse, and watch the only person she loved slip away.
Her fingers closed around Laura’s small hand. The racing past of her life—glory, speed, the podium—flashed through her, a life she had abandoned when everything else collapsed. If racing could buy medicine, then she would race. If the finish line meant her daughter’s breath, then she would run toward it, whatever the cost.
She pressed the number Peter had sent again—this time, determined not to let lack of credit stop her.
Chapter 4
The Extreme Mountain Circuit was infamous. Nine out of ten racers who entered never made it back alive.
Amy had always loved racing, but she had never once touched that track. Even Samuel used to argue with her about it:
“Racing’s too dangerous. Don’t go again. If anything happened, I’d feel sorry for you.”
Now, the same man who once tried to hold her back had forced her into it—just because Sharon wanted the circuit’s trophy.
Samuel thought Amy would refuse. Instead, she cut him off coldly.
“Fine, I agree,” she said. “But two conditions—treat Laura’s illness, and give me one hundred dollars.”
If she survived this race, she would call her father’s elite squad and leave with her daughter for good.
Samuel accepted, but his tone hardened as Amy turned to prepare upstairs.
“You’re too stubborn. You rely on me now, Amy. If you softened up, maybe I’d pity you. Stop hurting Sharon, and I’ll treat you like before.”
Amy didn’t answer. Divorce had already closed her heart. She had chosen single-parent custody. Samuel meant nothing to her anymore.
Watching her walk away without looking back, Samuel’s jaw tightened. “Let’s see how long that arrogance lasts without your father to protect you.”
Three hours later, the Extreme Mountain Circuit buzzed with spectators. Every racer had to sign a death waiver, family members alongside them.
When Amy signed next to Samuel, murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“Isn’t that the Gonzalez heiress? Mr. Lee’s wife? Why would she risk this?”
“I heard she hurt someone six years ago. Spent time in prison—probably just got out.”
“They say she even brought a cellmate with her. Bad luck.”
“No wonder Samuel dotes on Sharon now. At least Sharon’s pretty—and clean.”
Sharon listened, lips curving into a satisfied smile as the whispers tore at Amy’s name. Social climbers always loved kicking the fallen.
Amy ignored them. She only glanced at Samuel and reminded him quietly, “Remember your promise.”
He frowned, mistaking her resolve for fear. A surge of anger flared in him.
“Amy, you’d really risk your life for that bastard?”
Her fingers tightened on the wheel, a cold laugh echoing in her chest. Bastard? He didn’t know the truth—that Laura was his daughter. One day, he would regret everything.
The starting gun fired.
Amy’s car shot forward like a blade slicing the wind. She gripped the steering wheel, overtaking one rival after another.
Then a black car swerved alongside her. The driver sneered through the window.
“Amy, I don’t care if you’ve done time. Be my woman—I’ll keep you. But I like things rough, and I don’t share the spotlight. Got it?”
Before he could finish, Amy slammed the accelerator, drifting hard into the bend. Her car clipped his, sending him skidding back. “Get lost!” she shouted.
Her skills were rusty after six years away, and every maneuver was a dance with death. But Amy pressed on.
The final bend loomed—three cars blocked her path.
Amy’s knuckles whitened. She floored the accelerator. The speedometer hit its limit.
Spectators screamed that she’d gone mad.
She crashed the guardrail with a thunderous bang, smoke billowing and blinding every racer behind her. Glass sliced across her forehead, blood trickling into her eyes. Biting down on her own arm, she forced herself awake and shot past the last three cars.
Amy crossed the finish line first.
The crowd erupted—not with cheers, but with laughter.
“She really gave Sharon the trophy? Samuel has her trained like a dog.”
On stage, Samuel was lifted shoulder-high as Sharon beamed beside him, clutching the prize.
Down below, Amy staggered, blood soaking through her clothes. Resentful racers dragged her aside, fists and boots raining down on her.
She curled up, shielding her head as tears mixed with blood on the asphalt.
From the stage, Samuel glanced back only once. Instead of helping, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Sharon’s forehead.
Chapter 5
By then, Samuel had kept his word—he had sent doctors to treat Laura and provided the money they needed.
As soon as she regained strength, Amy recharged her phone and contacted the elite team her father had once entrusted to her. They assured her they would arrive tomorrow to extract them.
Tomorrow, she thought, she would finally take her daughter far away from this cursed place.
But that very night, Sharon vanished.
Samuel flew into a frenzy. He called his men, scoured Buffalo from end to end, but found no trace of her.
Meanwhile, Amy sat in her room, packing away the last of her childhood mementos—the only treasures left by her mother. She intended to take them all. The villa, tainted with memories of pain, would never again be her home.
Suddenly, she felt a hand clamp hard around her throat. She gasped, twisting in shock.
He dragged her into the hallway by the neck. Amy stumbled, her body slamming against the stairs as she fell.
“Mom!” Laura cried, rushing forward with tears streaming down her cheeks. She threw her small arms around Amy. “Please don’t hurt my mom!”
Amy froze. She dared not mention tomorrow’s planned escape—one word could shatter everything. But her silence, to Samuel, looked like guilt.
He lifted his hand. Two bodyguards seized Amy and Laura.
“Relax,” Samuel said coldly. “You’re my wife. No matter what happens, I won’t hurt you. But isn’t that little bastard the one you care about most? Then let her atone for your sins.”
But her cries were useless.
The bodyguards dragged Laura away. Moments later, Amy heard the roar of an engine as the car carrying her daughter sped into the night.
Samuel said nothing. His silence was more terrifying than his words.
When Amy finally saw her daughter again, it was not in her arms.
It was on the television screen.
Laura hung suspended in mid-air, a bomb strapped to her small body. The digital counter blinked red.
Each second echoed like a death knell.
Chapter 6
He turned to the nearest guard. “Whip that bastard child. Stop only when Mrs. Scott decides to tell the truth.”
The command landed like a blow. Laura, too small and fragile for such cruelty, shrank beneath it. Amy’s throat closed; the world narrowed to a single, savage choice. Forced by terror, she confessed a truth she’d tried to bury.
“No! She’s your biological daughter! You can’t do this!”
Samuel’s expression flickered with something like surprise before hardening into suspicion. He gripped Amy’s chin so hard it hurt. “My daughter?”
Sobbing, Amy recounted the past—every detail, every dark corner of memory. Samuel listened, trembling in a way that might have been emotion, might have been calculation. He ordered a verification. Five minutes later he returned.
For a moment, hope surged through Amy; she stopped crying, convinced the nightmare would end. Then Samuel’s hand swung without warning. The slap burned across her left cheek; she tasted metal and salt.
“My daughter?” he sneered. “Amy, you screwed around behind bars and now expect me to claim some bastard? Calling her a bastard wasn’t wrong after all.”
Amy’s mind thinned into white noise. The truth she’d spoken—spoken to save a child—now turned on her like a blade.
“There must be some mistake,” she choked. “She’s yours. Get a DNA test if you don’t believe me!”
Samuel tossed a phone at her feet. A video played on the screen: images of Amy with another man, cut and edited to tell a story she knew wasn’t hers. Her face drained of color as every instinct in her rose to defend herself.
“This video’s photoshopped!” she cried. “It’s fake!”
“After all these years, you know me,” she pleaded. “You know I’d never—”
Samuel inhaled and laughed, low and humorless. “Amy, you’ve always worn masks. I don’t know you at all.”
He leveled the ultimatum like a sentence. “Last chance. If you still won’t tell me where Sharon is, that bastard won’t live.”
Kneeling, Amy clung to his trousers, her body wracked with sobs. “Sharon’s disappearance has nothing to do with me, I swear—”
A guard kicked her aside. “Do it,” Samuel ordered.
On the screen, the camera cut to the warehouse feed. Bodyguards lifted whips and advanced. The first strokes tore through fabric and small flesh. Laura’s quietness was worse than any scream—twelve lashes fell, and with each one Amy felt a part of herself break.
Amy pressed her face to the floor, breathless and trembling. Her voice, when it came, was a raw whisper: “Please stop. If this continues someone will die.”
Samuel crouched to meet her eyes. His grip on her chin was an iron rod. “I warned you. Sharon is my life. You touched my life, so I’ll take yours.”
Blood mixed with tears across Amy’s collar. She bit down on her lip until the taste of iron flooded her mouth. Despair hollowed out her chest, but she refused to let the desperation show weakness that could be exploited.
Samuel’s features were cold as winter. He spoke into a walkie-talkie, voice clipped and precise. “Bomb timer’s too long. Detonate it now.”
The feed snapped to the live screen—Laura strapped and suspended, the digital counter blinking down. The seconds bled faster than Amy’s breath.
“No,” she gurgled, a sound between a plea and a prayer. “Samuel, she’s your own flesh and blood. Even beasts spare their young. Killing your child will bring heaven’s wrath!”
He smiled—an animal’s, utterly devoid of pity. “You hid my Sharon. This is your punishment.” He pushed the walkie-talkie back into his pocket. “Quit stalling. Blow that bastard up.”
The warehouse erupted into movement. Guards fanned out. The screen’s numbers dove, cruel and inexorable. Amy’s world narrowed to the single impossible task of saving the little life that hung under a countdown she could neither stop nor slow.
And in that moment, with the timer bleeding toward oblivion and every choice closing behind her, Amy understood the full measure of what Samuel had become: a man who could use his love as a weapon and the people he claimed to protect as collateral.
Chapter 7
Before the words had fully left Samuel’s mouth, the villa door swung open.
Sharon returned as if nothing had happened, shopping bags dangling from her wrists. She blinked, practiced innocence softening her voice. “What’s wrong, Samuel? My depression flared up, so I turned off my phone and went shopping. Why does the house feel like a murder scene?”
Amy collapsed onto the floor as if all the air had been stolen from her lungs. She locked eyes with Samuel and forced each syllable out through gritted teeth. “Believe me now? Will you release Laura?”
For a heartbeat Samuel’s chest tightened—an echo of doubt—but he quelled it at once. In his mind Amy had betrayed him; she had brought disgrace on herself and deserved whatever followed. He nodded to a guard, who dragged Laura out only to shove her into a dog crate.
“The bastard deserves a doghouse,” Samuel declared, his voice flat.
The ordeal nearly killed the child. Amy stayed on the floor beside the crate all night, watching Laura’s shallow breaths and counting every bruise with a grief that burned. Hatred and helplessness braided into something cold and steady inside her. Just wait, she promised herself. Freedom comes tomorrow.
At dusk Laura rasped that she needed water. Amy slipped out to fetch it. Passing the lounge, she heard Sharon’s laughter—bright, casual, unbearably light—joined by a friend’s compliment.
“Sharon, heard your man almost tortured that mother–daughter pair to death over your few missing hours. You’ve got skills.”
Amy’s nails dug into her palms until blood came. She’d always suspected Laura of scheming to frame her, but never imagined the truth could be this poisonous.
Laura’s friend purred, “Tsk. With a snap of my fingers that Amy bitch would be crawling like a stray.”
Sharon’s pride leaked into the conversation. “Credit where it’s due—Samuel’s daughter, it turns out. I noticed she resembled him. I had my people alter prison records today. When Samuel checks, they’ll swear the child’s illegitimate.”
“Always a step ahead,” the friend admired. “Worried Samuel might find out?”
Sharon shrugged, defiant. “Would you double–check information about a sinful child? Besides, Amy and her mother will be dealt with permanently—no appeal.”
Each sentence landed like a blade. Amy pressed a hand to her throat and recorded every brutal word. When their voices faded she stopped the recording and slipped away with her phone, heart hammering with a new, fragile hope: evidence.
At midnight she sat on the living-room sofa waiting for Samuel. He entered with his usual, complicated expression—part irritation, part entitlement. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. It was her home, yet he questioned her right to exist inside it.
She kept her face placid and handed him a USB drive. “Tomorrow’s our seventh wedding anniversary. My gift to you.”
Samuel arched an eyebrow. Amy’s voice stayed calm, even when the truth inside it felt like ice. “You always demanded I apologize to Sharon. This contains my recorded apology. Invite her to watch it with you at eight tomorrow.” A small deception—compliance designed to disarm.
Samuel’s surprise softened into a patronizing satisfaction. “Good. It’s about time you came to your senses. Behave, and I’ll treat you as before.”
She answered only, “Fine.” The single word held no surrender.
To Samuel, her compliance confirmed his control. He lectured her in that tired tone he used for inconveniences. “You don’t run the company; you don’t understand the struggle. Managing thousands leaves me no energy to pamper you. Learn from Sharon—be sensible. I spoil Sharon, but you’ll always be my only wife. That’s my promise.”
Amy smiled inside at the audacity. He had stolen her fortune, paraded his mistress through their home, yet dared call himself faithful. She kept her face neutral. After tomorrow, he would no longer have the chance.
What he did not know was that Peter had made Samuel sign an agreement before the wedding. If Samuel ever cheated, their marriage would dissolve instantly. Without the Gonzalez backing, his status, his power—everything—would vanish. Prison had kept her from producing the agreement before. Tomorrow, order would be restored.
Dawn arrived. Samuel found Amy sitting in the garden, composed and measured. He barked an order as if she were staff: “Tonight’s our anniversary. Cook more dishes.”
She looked at him the way one looks at a storm: unmoved. Before she could answer, he looped an arm around Sharon’s waist and left, pride on full display.
Samuel’s car had barely cleared the drive when the elite team arrived.
A helicopter cut the sunrise. Dozens of muscular men in camouflage slid down ropes and kicked open the ornate iron gate. They moved with the silence and precision of trained soldiers. “Miss, we’re here to extract you,” their leader announced, voice respectful and urgent.
The operatives treated Amy with deference—no questions, only action. Amy pointed to the dog crate. “My child’s trapped. Please—rescue her.”
Two men moved like lightning through the villa. They pried open the crate and lifted Laura into Amy’s arms. “Mommy, can we leave now?” the child whispered.
Amy’s eyes filled. “Yes. We’re leaving. Nobody will ever hurt you again.”
They were escorted to the helicopter and boarded with calm efficiency. As the aircraft lifted, Amy turned for one last look at the villa that had been her prison and her battlefield. She would never return.
Before they left she’d sold the property to a buyer—tainted, she would not allow Samuel and Sharon to profit from it. The sale was finalized; the signatures were her declaration: this place belonged to a past she refused to keep.
As the helicopter rose, Amy pressed her thumbnail into the palm of her hand until she felt the sting—an old habit to anchor herself. Samuel, she vowed, every ounce of pain you caused me I will repay tenfold. Not in cruelty, she promised, but in justice.
Above the fracturing skyline, with Laura asleep against her and the wind carrying their small sobs away, Amy allowed herself, for the first time in a very long while, to breathe.
Chapter 8
The servants exchanged glances. They’d been off during the day and only returned in the evening; none of them had seen Amy. Samuel’s frown tightened for a moment, but he shrugged it away. The child was still at home—locked up, he reminded himself—and that was all that mattered.
“She’s probably throwing another heiress tantrum,” he scoffed. “Ignore her.”
He glanced at Sharon. “You go upstairs and shower. I’ll work in the study for a bit.”
Sharon, tired from a day of social appearances, nodded. “Alright. I’ll head up.”
Samuel settled into the study, opened his laptop and began to work. The night hummed with the small domestic noises of a house ruled by a man who expected the world to bend to his will.
Then a tiny ad blinked across the screen—an innocuous camera app promising a novelty feature: generate a child’s likeness from parent photos. Samuel clicked without thinking. Habit, boredom, curiosity—one of them. He uploaded pictures of himself and Amy, intending only to amuse himself for a moment.
Before he could cancel, the app finished synthesizing an image. The face that stared back at him was a mirror of Laura—his breath stumbled. For a stunned second he forgot the pretense; the photo looked impossibly like his child.
He forced himself to laugh it off. “Technology,” he muttered, a final rationalization. Big data, cross-referenced profiles—something had spit out a coincidence. He closed the window and tried to return to work, but the image had lodged in his mind like a splinter.
Amy’s words kept returning, soft and insistent: “Samuel, this child is yours.”
The thought unsettled him more than he expected. Anger rose like a tide, irrational and volcanic. He grabbed the nearest ashtray and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the mahogany desk. Glass and ceramic splintered; a shard sliced into his palm. Blood welled, warm and startling.
He barely registered the pain. A servant rushed in at the sound. “Sir—your hand!”
Samuel didn’t care about the wound. “Where is that bastard?” he demanded, voice rough.
The servant’s eyes widened, voice small with fear. “In the dog cage, sir—in the basement.”
“Dog cage?” Samuel echoed, blood and disbelief mingling in his throat. “Who locked her in a dog cage?”
The servant swallowed. “You said—sir, you said the child was a bastard and deserved the dog cage.”
The memory of his own words struck him like ice. He had said it in fury, never imagining anyone would take it literally. Images flooded his mind: Amy’s face, Laura’s small hands, the possibility that his careless cruelty had been obeyed in full. His stomach turned.
He rose in a single, terrible movement and bolted for the basement stairwell, the house suddenly too small and too loud around him. The hallway light bounced off the floor as he ran, each step a drumbeat of regret and dread.
At the bottom of the stairs, the door to the basement yawned open like an accusation.
Chapter 9
The basement door creaked as Samuel pushed it open, his chest heaving. The cage stood in the shadows—its bars pried open, bent with force. Empty. Laura was gone.
For a long moment, he stared, unable to comprehend. Then rage surged.
Within minutes, every servant in the villa was assembled in the living room, their faces pale, their eyes fixed on the floor.
On the leather sofa, Samuel sat hunched forward, phone clutched tight. He dialed Amy over and over, each call dropping into silence. He fired off a WhatsApp message—blocked. The red exclamation mark felt like a taunt.
The room was still as stone. Even the servants seemed to hold their breath, afraid to stir.
Finally, Samuel laughed, sharp and bitter. “Perfect. Just perfect. Six years behind bars, and all she learned was how to grow a temper.”
He leaned back, the anger burning in his chest. How had he forgotten? Amy was never some meek shadow. She was a spoiled heiress, dazzling, untouchable. Only with him had she softened, dimming her light for his sake.
She had loved him too much—so much she’d let herself disappear. And Samuel had mistaken that love for weakness.
His voice cut through the silence like a whip. “Pull up the surveillance footage. Now! I want to know when she left and who helped her break that cage.”
The servants scattered, his assistant hurrying back minutes later with trembling hands. “Sir… the footage is gone. Wiped clean. Every camera.”
Samuel’s fury erupted. He seized the glass ashtray, the vase, anything within reach, hurling them until the room was wrecked.
Upstairs, Sharon had just finished her shower. Wrapping her robe tighter, she rushed down when the crash of breaking glass filled the air. She caught Samuel mid-swing as he reached for another object.
“Samuel!” she cried, gripping his arm. “Don’t waste your anger on this. It’s obvious—your wife ran off with another man. Did you really think locking her up would change anything?”
Her voice softened, coaxing. “Now that she’s gone, we can build our life together. You always said marriage held you back from marrying me. But she abandoned you, Samuel. Nothing stands in our way now.”
She bit her lip, tears welling. “Do you know what people call me? They call me your mistress. But you and I—we’re in love. I’ve never been a mistress, not in my heart.”
Her words hung heavy in the room. The servants stood frozen, their heads bowed.
Samuel’s eyes were unreadable. He did care for Sharon—he couldn’t deny that. But care was not love.
And divorce? Divorce had never once crossed his mind.
“Sharon,” he said at last, his tone firm, brows furrowed. “Enough. Amy is my wife. That will never change.”
The color drained from Sharon’s face. His words were a blade, cutting through every illusion she’d clung to. She had waited for years, believing he would one day give her his name. Yet even now, even after Amy’s escape, he said only Amy could ever be his wife.
Then what was she? Nothing but the mistress she despised being called.
When Samuel looked at her, all he could see was Amy’s eyes—their innocence, their stubbornness. And Laura…
Laura’s face haunted him, her features too familiar, echoing his own childhood reflection. The doubts clawed at him.
“Samuel.” Sharon’s voice broke into his thoughts, trembling but determined. “You must marry me. I’m pregnant.”
The words froze the air.
His expression hardened, turning to stone. “You didn’t take the pill last time?”
“I didn’t,” Sharon admitted, defiance in her tone. “I want a child of my own. Samuel, I carried our child once before, but Amy… Amy killed it. This time, I won’t lose it. The doctor says this baby is healthy, and I’m keeping it.”
The silence that followed was deafening, Samuel’s rage and disbelief simmering just beneath his skin.
Chapter 10
Samuel frowned, the weight of Sharon’s words settling into his chest. She had been at his side for years; surely she deserved a child. Yet whenever he pictured children, it was Amy who came to mind—the life he’d imagined with her, the idea of a child who shared both their features.
The servant’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Sir, we found a USB in Madam’s room. There’s a letter on it… addressed to you.”
Sharon’s face soured. Amy was gone—and still, she could not resist stirring trouble. Samuel’s expression hardened into something almost amused. Amy always left herself an out, even in tantrums. He remembered the way she had defied her father to be with him; evidence, in his mind, of devotion. Now she was gone, but he believed she would return.
“Play it,” he said, voice flat. “Let’s hear her grovel.”
The maid slid the drive into the television. Grainy footage flickered across the screen—hidden-camera angles, distorted images—but the voices were clear enough. Sharon’s mocking tone rang through the speakers.
“That miscarriage? It happened after we hired escorts. The guy was inexperienced—that’s why Laura lost the baby. We pinned it on Amy, and Samuel swallowed every word.” Laughter. “Making Amy serve six years in prison to avenge Laura—what else could it be but love?”
“Who knew Amy works in silence,” another voice sneered. “Lucky I noticed the dead girl resembled Samuel. I had my people tweak prison records today. When he investigates, they’ll claim the child’s illegitimate. Amy and her mother will be finished—no appeal.”
Sharon’s face drained of color. She lunged forward, hands frantic as she covered the screen. “It’s fake! It’s doctored! Samuel, believe me—I adore you. I would never—this must be Amy’s doing!”
Samuel watched her struggle, and something in him turned. The veneer of control cracked; contempt slid cold and sharp into his voice. “Get lost.”
When Sharon refused, he nodded to his guards. They dragged her back, muffling her cries. The footage continued to play, Sharon’s friends boasting and Sharon’s own voice—smug, calculated—echoing in the room.
Then Sharon’s clip ended. Amy’s face filled the screen.
Her eyes were empty of pleading. There was no softness—only a cold, gathering clarity. “Samuel, by the time you see this, I’ll have vanished. You’ve watched the other footage. Now you know who Sharon really is. For trash like her, you locked me up for six years and abused your child.”
Her words landed like blows. “It doesn’t matter. Every time you chose Sharon, we decided to leave you. Remember this: we’re not discarded. I’m choosing single-parent custody after divorce. The severance papers are in the safe. From today, you’re no longer Laura’s father. I’ll find her a decent stepdad.”
The screen showed no theatrics—Amy’s voice was steady, surgical. “You signed divorce papers on our wedding day. Your infidelity voids our marriage instantly. Don’t worry. I’m coming back. Everything you think you own belongs to the Gonzalez estate. Soon you’ll be out on your ass.”
Silence hit the room like a physical thing. Samuel’s body went still. The world narrowed to the hum of the television and the distant, ragged breaths of servants.
He had been lying to himself for six years—believing rumors he had been fed, punishing the woman who had loved him most. The thought should have burned him with shame, but first it opened a hollow, cold fury. Betrayal folded into humiliation, then into panic.
Samuel swayed as the truth unfolded in his head: the signed agreement, the prison records, the doctored footage Sharon had used to manipulate him. Everything he had built—status, influence, an identity—rested on fragile compromises he had thought permanent.
His hands trembled. Around him, the house felt foreign, like a stage where the script had been stolen from under him. He had misread devotion for weakness; he had punished the wrong person.
For a long, suspended moment, Samuel simply stared at the flickering screen—dumbfounded, unmoored, and suddenly very small.
Chapter 11
Washington, Military Compound.
Amy was arranged to live here. It wasn’t as luxurious as a villa, but everything she and Laura needed was provided.
Because Peter was away on a top–secret mission, her father’s superiors had never contacted her directly, and so they hadn’t known she had endured years of hardship. When they finally learned the truth, their fury shook the room.
“I never imagined Amy has suffered so much!” one general exclaimed. “Your father is the pride of our country. How dare Samuel treat you this way!”
Another slammed his palm against the table. “Amy, don’t worry. With us uncles here, we won’t let your suffering go unanswered.”
“I’ll dispatch people to Buffalo tomorrow,” another vowed. “We’ll dig into every illegal thing he’s ever done. He won’t escape justice.”
Her determination silenced them. They exchanged glances, then nodded.
For the next week, Amy lived quietly in the compound, monitoring the Gonzalez Group from afar. She wanted her revenge—and her rightful place back—but she had to move carefully. One misstep could collapse everything.
One evening, Laura went outside to play with the compound’s children but hadn’t returned by nightfall. Panic surged through Amy as she rushed outside—only to see a tall man carrying Laura in his arms.
“Mommy!”
Laura wriggled down and ran to her, cheeks flushed. “Some kids bullied me while I was playing. This uncle helped me!”
Amy noticed the way a few compound families looked at her and Laura—like outsiders. Whispers about Amy being a single mother who’d been imprisoned still followed them.
The man smiled faintly. “Don’t mention it. If you face trouble here, find me. I’ll help. By the way, I’m Jesse Scott.”
“Alright. Thank you, Mr. Scott.” Amy turned to her daughter. “Laura, say goodbye to Uncle. It’s late—we should head home.”
The little girl clung to her arm and shook her head bravely. “Mommy, it’s okay. Doesn’t hurt.”
But when pressed, she confessed in a whisper: the other children had called her a bastard. They said she had no father, only a mother who’d been in prison, and didn’t deserve to play with them.
Amy’s heart ached so fiercely it felt as if it might tear apart. She had never even raised her voice at Laura—yet others had scarred her with words and blows.
That night, after tucking her daughter into bed, Amy slipped out. She returned half an hour later, her eyes cold as steel.
At dawn, piercing screams erupted through the compound. Laura stirred awake, but Amy kissed her forehead gently.
“Stay inside and rest, sweetheart. Mommy needs to handle something.”
Outside, a crowd had gathered in front of her house. Their faces were twisted in anger.
“Amy, are you insane? Dumping water all over our homes—trying to kill someone?!” one man shouted.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Rage flared in one man’s eyes as he raised his hand to strike her.
But his wrist was caught mid-air—gripped by another hand, strong and unyielding.
Jesse Scott.
Chapter 12
Jesse shook the man’s arm off roughly, his voice cutting through the crowd like ice.
“Amy was invited here. Her father is on a top–secret mission bringing glory to this country. And this is how you treat Peter’s daughter? Should I call him right now? Should I tell him how you’re bullying his daughter and granddaughter?”
The air went cold.
Everyone instantly backed down. Peter was infamous in their circle—a madman who guarded his own like a wolf. If he learned they had touched his daughter or granddaughter, he’d abandon his mission and storm back immediately.
The men who had been fuming seconds ago deflated like punctured tires.
“Hmph. Forget it. No point arguing with a woman,” one muttered.
Their faces stiffened. Swallowing their rage, they slunk away in silence.
Amy wasn’t naïve. Jesse had repeatedly come to her aid, and now he spoke so openly—she could guess his feelings.
“If I recall correctly, Mr. Scott, this is only our second meeting.” Her tone cooled. “You know my situation. There’s no need to waste your time on me. You look younger than me by five or six years. If you don’t mind, just call me ‘sister.’”
Her rejection was unmistakable.
A sharp ache tore through Jesse’s chest. So she truly didn’t remember.
Something stirred in Amy’s mind. Faint, distant fragments resurfaced—of a quiet boy with dark eyes who rarely spoke, and her own young voice urging him not to be afraid.
She never would’ve imagined that the withdrawn, autistic child she once defended could grow into the confident man before her.
“When I grew up, I wanted to find you. But by then, you were already married. I didn’t dare disturb you. Only recently did I learn what happened to you. I know you probably don’t trust anyone now, but… I still want to protect you however I can.”
Amy froze, flustered by his sudden confession. For a long moment, silence stretched between them.
“I’m much older than you, remarried, and I already have a child. Liking someone is one person’s choice—but marriage… marriage binds two people, even two families. You’re still young. You should find someone who truly fits your life.”
Her rejection was firm, but beneath her calm voice, Jesse could hear the faint tremor of emotions she was holding back.
Chapter 13
After refusing Jesse, Amy turned and left immediately.
She had already experienced marriage once, and it had brought her nothing but suffering. She would not make the same mistake again.
Amy knew how extraordinary Jesse was—but precisely because he was so perfect, she would not hold him back.
In the basement of the former manor in Buffalo, Samuel had repaired the dog cage and locked Sharon inside.
For three days straight, she had gone without water—her lips cracked, dark circles etched terrifying shadows beneath her eyes.
Samuel had combed every corner of Buffalo but had found no trace of Amy.
All his fury, frustration, and rage now fell upon Sharon.
Before, she had longed to see him every day. Now, his presence made her whole body tremble.
Samuel snorted, cold and vicious, grabbing a nearby whip.
The woman scrambled inside the cage like a terrified animal.
“Child?” he spat, eyes murderous. “Who knows whose bastard you’re carrying. Sharon, you really think I’d believe you now?”
Before Sharon could react, Samuel released a Tibetan mastiff.
The dog, starved for three days and nights, now hungered enough to attack.
Samuel ignored her cries. The mastiff surged inside the cage. Sharon screamed, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.
But by the time the aides moved, Samuel had already gone upstairs. Sharon’s screams were no longer his concern.
Samuel’s mind reeled. Amy had sold the villa?
“That’s a lie! Amy’s my wife! She’d never buy property without telling me—”
The agent produced the signed contract. Polite, professional, and unyielding.
“Samuel, here’s the agreement. If you are not out in three days, we will contact the authorities.”
Samuel’s gaze fell on the handwriting. It was unmistakably hers.
Chapter 14
Samuel’s lips twisted into a bitter smile, eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Amy… you’re truly ruthless.”
With those words, the agent and his team departed.
Over the following days, Samuel’s secretary managed the relocation.
For convenience, Samuel planned to move into the apartment adjacent to the company headquarters.
Yet he drowned himself in alcohol at home for days, neglecting the office entirely. Shareholders grew restless, particularly the veteran investors—who, learning of Amy’s departure, immediately shifted their attitude toward him.
That day, as Samuel nursed another drink at home, his secretary rushed in.
“Samuel,” she said cautiously.
One soft word from her, and he would have brought her home immediately.
But months passed without Amy admitting any fault, and in his rage, he had done what he did.
As a man, hearing of Amy’s hardships made his heart ache.
After reporting everything, the secretary left.
In the huge villa, Samuel sat on the cold floor, both crying and laughing.
Seeing photos of Amy being bullied in prison, he wept uncontrollably. No wonder she hated him so much. She had endured injustice for six long years, and he had known nothing.
For so long, Samuel had believed Amy loved him desperately—that no matter what he did, she would keep loving him. Only now did he realize how terribly wrong he had been.
Back when he was her bodyguard, he had promised to protect Amy whenever she was in danger. He had even vowed to safeguard her wherever she was.
But for six years, Amy suffered in prison, and he had been unaware.
Samuel buried his face in the sofa cushion, tears soaking the fabric. That night, he drank case after case of alcohol, drowning in regret.
He regretted not believing Amy. He regretted the suffering he had caused her and the child.
His body finally gave out, and Samuel was hospitalized the next day.
Chapter 15
Washington.
Amy’s money from selling her house had come through, and she purchased a spacious apartment in Washington. She moved out of the military compound with Laura.
Jesse came to help her move that day.
Jesse was a grown man, determined to stay, and Amy couldn’t stop him. Besides, Laura genuinely liked him, so Amy resisted a little less.
After helping Amy settle in, she invited Jesse to stay for dinner. Jesse played with Laura while Amy busied herself in the kitchen.
From childhood, Peter had never let her near the kitchen. But one year, when Samuel fell ill, Amy learned to cook. Later, during the years inside, with Laura needing proper nutrition, she mastered many dishes.
In just half an hour, Amy prepared three dishes and a soup.
No matter how hard Jesse pressed, Amy’s defenses stayed strong.
After dinner, another guest arrived—the Gonzalez Group’s legal counsel, an uncle who had watched Amy grow up.
“Amy, the company’s in serious turmoil. Shareholders are furious with Samuel. Seize this chance to reclaim everything.”
“Laura’s six already,” Amy added. “Kids her age started school ages ago, yet I’ve held her back. I’ll reclaim the Gonzalez Group, but I won’t neglect Laura either.”
Amy frowned. She wasn’t doubting Jesse’s character, just feeling a little embarrassed.
They booked the flight, and since Jesse would start caring for Laura the next day, he stayed overnight.
Chapter 16
Hearing this, Amy hurriedly hung up the phone.
Looking back, Jesse was only wrapped in a towel, his broad shoulders and narrow waist utterly mesmerizing.
“Why aren’t you dressed when you come out?!”
Though they even had a child, Amy hadn’t interacted much with men for six years—especially not like this.
After saying this, Amy turned to leave but was pulled gently into Jesse’s arms.
“Male models? You’ve hired male models?”
“Next time, don’t waste money. Hire me. I’m free.”
Jesse’s teasing was impossible to ignore. Every word made Amy blush and her heart race.
After putting Laura to bed, Amy tossed and turned all night, sleeping poorly. Images of Jesse kept flashing through her mind.
The next morning, Amy got up early to catch her flight. She’d just finished washing up and was heading to the fridge for a quick bite when she saw Jesse bringing out freshly cooked breakfast.
“Have some of this.”
Running short on time, Amy didn’t stand on ceremony. She’d assumed a rich boy like Jesse couldn’t cook—that this morning’s gesture was just to show off. But the food actually tasted good.
Amy nearly choked on her noodles. She wolfed down the rest and mumbled an awkward farewell before rushing out.
At the airport with Mr. Davis, Amy had just arrived when Samuel landed.
Just as they stepped out of the airport, Amy and Noah passed through the entrance wearing masks. They moved quickly through the crowd, invisible to Samuel.
“Noah, check-in is closing soon. We need to hurry,” Amy said, her voice familiar.
Hearing it, Samuel suddenly turned—but Amy had already vanished into the crowd. He couldn’t spot her.
Chapter 17
Samuel had just exited the airport when his private car pulled up at the entrance.
He headed straight to Amy’s home in Washington. Before the trip, he had bought loads of things: all of Amy’s favorite snacks, plus toys for Laura. Unsure of Laura’s preferences, he’d gotten a bit of everything.
Samuel drew a sharp breath and knocked on the door himself.
The door swung open, and two men locked eyes. Jesse recognized Samuel instantly—they were rivals. Samuel, however, didn’t know Jesse.
He moved to slam the door shut.
Seeing his daughter, Samuel’s heart swelled with emotion. But watching her walk into another man’s embrace made his heart bleed.
“Laura, it’s Daddy. Daddy’s here to take you home,” Samuel said, his voice gravelly and low.
Though young, Laura knew exactly where things stood. Hearing her words, Samuel felt his heart tearing apart.
“Laura, Daddy was wrong before. Truly wrong. But I’ll never hurt you again. Come to Daddy’s arms. Come home with me, please.”
Immediately, he called the property management, reporting unauthorized intruders and demanding their removal.
During Samuel’s emotional collapse, community security arrived and escorted him out.
But Samuel refused to leave. The guards warned they’d call the police. Ultimately, his secretary had to physically pull Samuel away.
As he was dragged off, Samuel fixed Laura with a desperate stare, his eyes reddened beyond recognition.
He had lost his child. He had lost his wife.
Chapter 18
Buffalo, the Gonzalez Group
Today, the Gonzalez Group shareholders held an emergency meeting.
They had notified Samuel, but he couldn’t wait—he had rushed to Washington to find Amy.
At the meeting, all eyes were on last quarter’s financial reports. Fury radiated from the room.
Just as the shareholders continued their grumbling, Amy pushed through the doors.
“Rest easy, uncles. You all built the Gonzalez Group with my father. If Samuel can’t protect it, I will.”
All eyes turned as Amy removed her sunglasses, confidence radiating from her every move.
“Amy, didn’t you leave Buffalo?” one shareholder asked.
The shareholders exchanged skeptical glances. Peter had always opposed Samuel’s entry into the Gonzalez Group, warning that someone like him would become dangerous once in control. Yet Amy had insisted against all objections, even transferring all her shares to him as joint marital assets.
“Amy, it’s not that we don’t trust you,” one shareholder began, “but you don’t even hold company shares now. How can we place our faith in you?”
“The Gonzalez Group represents my father’s lifelong work and embodies the collective efforts of everyone present during their prime. With me at the helm, I will provide the most satisfactory outcome for all.”
“All you uncles have watched me grow up, and you know how I feel about my father. Whatever it takes, I will not let the Gonzalez Group suffer even the slightest harm.”
Her words resonated. The shareholders believed her, and after a brief discussion, they unanimously approved Amy as the company’s CEO.
With her shares reclaimed and the CEO title in her hands, Samuel had been completely ousted from the Gonzalez Group.
Delayed by urgent company matters, Amy informed Jesse she couldn’t return immediately and asked him to care for Laura a few more days.
Entering the CEO’s office, waves of memories washed over her. Back when her father had faked his death, she had often visited, playfully pestering him in this very space. Six years had passed. When would his top–secret mission end?
Amy heaved a deep sigh and instructed housekeeping to discard everything in the office. Samuel had occupied this space before. Anything he touched disgusted her.
Overwhelmed by her new responsibilities, Amy worked late into the night before returning to her hotel.
The next morning at ten, she approached the company building only to hear commotion downstairs.
“Tell the tech team to get out if they don’t want to work! I just stepped out for a while, and my facial recognition access got deleted? Do you people even want to keep your jobs!”
The room fell silent, all eyes now fixed on her.
Chapter 19
Samuel’s back stiffened, the familiar voice instantly making his eyes redden.
He whirled around—it was Amy.
“Amy, it really is you! Don’t you know I went to Washington looking for you? But why was there a strange man at your place?”
“And that man claimed to be your boyfriend?”
“Amy, I know that can’t be true. You loved me so much—how could you move on so quickly?”
“But it’s fine if you want to play around outside. Just come back to your senses and return home when you’re done.”
“You came to the company to see me today, right? Let me take you upstairs to my office. It’s been so long since you last visited my workplace.”
Samuel moved to grab Amy’s hand, but she stepped back, putting distance between them.
“Samuel, I think you might be delusional. If needed, I can help you contact a doctor for a checkup.”
Samuel’s chest stung. The Amy from before would never have criticized him so bluntly—but he’d messed up first. He owned that.
“You’re right. I might be a bit delusional. Will you come with me to the hospital then?” he said, trying to regain control.
“I still remember our first year together. When my health checkup showed problems, you immediately learned to cook and made different dishes for me every day. But from now on, I’ll learn to cook for you. To atone.”
Samuel moved closer, but Amy sharply pulled her arm away.
Her logical, unyielding delivery left nearby employees stunned.
“How many six-year chunks does a woman have? If I were Amy, I’d grab a knife and stab that scumbag and his side piece the moment I got out,” another muttered.
“Jesus, what a strong female lead! Cutting off the infected limb to survive. Thank goodness the company’s back with Amy now. Can’t let that self-made man from rural roots and his side piece profit.”
The employees’ harsh judgments rang loud and clear in Samuel’s ears. Yet he couldn’t muster a single word in rebuttal.
Amy couldn’t be bothered to argue further and began to step inside.
Amy frowned, and nearby security guards swiftly intervened, pulling Samuel away and pinning him down.
Her calm composure shattered into renewed fury.
Chapter 20
“You dare mention the child?” Amy’s voice cut through Samuel like steel.
“Samuel, do you have no shame for what you did to Laura? How many times did she nearly die because of you?”
“I’m not sending you to prison out of lingering affection—I simply refuse to let you taint my child’s life.”
“Besides, I want you to watch from the outside how blissful our family of three is. But you’ll never get to be her father again.”
“Security, throw him out. Samuel is banned from the Gonzalez Group premises indefinitely.”
With that, Amy walked away without so much as a backward glance.
Amy ignored him. His promises sounded laughable. In her twenties, she might have believed such vows. Now, past thirty? Never. Especially coming from Samuel.
For days afterward, Samuel waited outside her office. Security escorted him away each time. Within a week, he’d aged a decade.
Since his expulsion from the Gonzalez Group, all his shares were stripped. Everything under his name had been reclaimed by Amy—assets rightfully hers now returned. As for Samuel’s personal wealth, he’d squandered much of it, and after buying countless gifts for Sharon, little remained.
Everyone kicks a man when he’s down. Over the years, Samuel had made countless enemies, but people dared not cross him while he held power. Now, everyone was eager to take their turn stomping on him.
That evening, as usual, Samuel waited by the company entrance, confident that persistence would pay off. If he proved sincere enough, Amy would eventually soften. If she’d loved him once, she could love him again.
By the time most employees had left, Amy finally emerged. Lately, she had been the last to exit the building. But tonight was different—she wasn’t alone.
The man delivered a kick with full force, snapping several of Samuel’s ribs. When Samuel looked up, he realized how terribly wrong he’d been.
“Dad… you… weren’t you dead?” Samuel gasped.
Peter had returned that very day after completing a top-secret mission. Without Amy’s intervention, he would have unleashed every possible means to make Samuel suffer.
Samuel staggered back, helpless, as Amy and Peter walked away, leaving him broken and defeated.
Chapter 21
After all these days, Samuel had long known there was no chance left for them.
He just couldn’t accept it, clinging to the belief that Amy had once loved him so deeply—maybe they could try again.
“Dad, let’s go,” Amy said, taking Peter’s arm to leave.
Samuel suddenly shouted after them, “Amy, I’m sorry!”
Back then, whenever Samuel apologized with soft words, she’d always melted. Not this time.
Now she walked forward resolutely, never once looking back.
Some people drift apart step by step. That was what happened with her and Samuel.
Half a year later.
Sharon was sentenced to six years in prison. Rumor had it she lost her uterus after a prison brawl—kicked straight out during a fight.
Samuel vanished too. Since that day, Amy never saw or heard from him again. Word spread that he had made too many enemies over the years, and perhaps revenge had finally caught up with him. But Amy never cared—it no longer concerned her.
Over the past six months, Amy had accomplished two major things. First, she relocated the Gonzalez Group headquarters to Washington. Second, she got engaged to Jesse.
Jesse was different from Samuel. He’d even passed Peter’s approval. They were already preparing for their engagement banquet.
Before the banquet, Amy’s family of three took family portraits. Though not biologically related, Jesse treated Laura with unwavering love. Laura adored Jesse too, wanting him as her father.
At the studio, they unexpectedly encountered someone familiar—Samuel.
Amy never imagined their reunion would happen like this. She knew Samuel’s pride well, yet here he was, working as a janitor.
“What a coincidence,” she said, composed but cautious.
Samuel looked flustered. Though only half a year had passed, premature gray streaked his hair, aging him considerably.
The room fell silent instantly. Over the past six months, Amy had never taught Laura to say such things, but a child’s heart is perceptive. She knows who treats her well and who doesn’t.
Neither Amy nor Jesse spoke.
Samuel sighed. “Forget it. Since the child doesn’t want to, let it be. You’re here to take wedding photos today, right? Jesse, Amy, I wish you a happy marriage.”
Jesse responded generously, “Thank you.”
Amy had never imagined that two people who once loved each other could end up like this. Perhaps they had both loved each other, or perhaps they hadn’t—but one thing was certain: timing had mattered most.
After this farewell, Amy didn’t see Samuel again for over a decade. She heard he had resigned and moved to another city, but she didn’t know he had cancer.
The photos he wanted with Laura were destined to be the last of his life.
On the day Amy got married, Samuel jumped into the sea. Their past love and memories were buried at the bottom of the ocean along with him.
The End
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