Part 1She Abandoned Our Child

My son, who had just started elementary school, was kidnapped by my wife's sworn enemy. The kidnapper demanded that my wife, the police captain, show up immediately to negotiate.

Upon hearing the news, she rushed out of the station. But midway, she received a mysterious phone call, and then she vanished.

I was forced to watch as my son's tiny body collapsed into a pool of blood, his ears and fingers ruthlessly severed.

"Daddy, it hurts so much. Can you tell Mommy to save me, please?"

My hands shook violently as I called my wife ninety-nine times, my voice begging, stripped of all dignity.

"Diana, please, I'm begging you, save our son..."

When she finally picked up on the hundredth attempt, her voice was dripping with impatience.

"Have you had enough of this drama, Johnny? Are you really using our son to beg for attention now? Tristan is home alone tonight and he feels unsafe. It is my duty to look after my junior academy classmate. Grow up, Johnny. Let it go. I'll come home tomorrow to celebrate Finn's birthday."

A second later, a notification popped up on my phone. It was Tristan's social media status. My eyes burned as I stared at the photo of them leaning intimately against each other.

The caption read: [You are not just a hero to the public; you are my hero, too.]

She had no idea she would never celebrate her son's birthday again.

The only thing waiting for her was his funeral.

* * *

I don't remember how I made it to the morgue.

Staring down at Finn’s cold, bruised body, at the empty space where his ears and tiny fingers should have been, my chest cleaved wide open.

It felt as though a dry ball of cotton had been shoved down my throat. My stomach cramped so violently that my entire body began to shake.

I couldn't accept it. Just that morning, he had been holding my hand, whispering his birthday wishes. Now, he was nothing but a cold, grey piece of clay.

The quiet of the morgue was shattered by my choked, dry heaving as I reached out to touch his purple cheek.

"Finn, baby, please open your eyes for Daddy. Daddy is right here."

The only response was the detective's polite, rehearsed words of condolence.

They told me the kidnapper was an old convict Diana had wrongfully arrested years ago. A decade of wrongful imprisonment had shattered his mind. After torturing and killing Finn, he had turned the gun on himself.

But everyone knew the truth: the kidnapper only wanted an apology from Diana.

If she had only shown up when she said she would, Finn would still be breathing.

The funeral ended two days later. I held the small, cold urn in my arms. No matter how tightly I squeezed it against my chest, the ceramic wouldn't warm up. It only pressed harder against my aching ribs.

When I finally dragged myself back to the empty house, I walked straight to his bedroom. Seeing the crayon drawing of the three of us taped to the wall, my bloodshot eyes overflowed again.

Exhausted, I collapsed onto his small bed, curling my trembling body into a ball, desperately inhaling the faint, lingering scent of my little boy.

Then, my phone buzzed, the screen lighting up again and again.

Diana’s face was trending on social media. A photo of her and Tristan had been circulating under the headline: The City's Bravest Cop and Her Most Devoted Witness.

In the comment section, strangers were swooning.

[They look so good together! I declare them husband and wife!]

[Please tell me they're dating. Look at the chemistry!]

[Look at how she leans her shoulder into his. They are definitely more than friends!]

As the gossip spread, Diana had finally stepped in to post a public comment.

[We are just friends. He is a good man, please respect his privacy.]

That vague, teasing reply felt like a heavy weight pressing into my lungs.

Years ago, when I was being harassed online by angry citizens because of one of her high-profile cases, she had told me, "Even if I speak up for you, who would believe me? Just ignore them."

So, she did know how to protect someone. She just reserved that protection for her handsome, fragile junior.

It made sense. Compared to the young, attentive Tristan, I was just the boring husband she had been tied to for seven long years.

I had been a fool, clinging to the vows we made in our youth.

Coughing through my tears, I unlocked my phone and sent her a text.

[Diana, let’s get a divorce.]

After contacting a lawyer to draft the papers, my frayed nerves finally snapped, and a heavy, dark exhaustion dragged me down into sleep.

I dreamed of the day we got married.

She had worn a white gown, her eyes blazing with a fierce, burning adoration.

"Johnny, in academy, they always taught us that we have to protect the public before we can protect our families. But I’ve always believed that without our tiny family, the world doesn't matter. Will you let me protect you for the rest of our lives?"

The dream shifted. Finn’s small hand was holding mine, his other hand clutching Diana's.

"Daddy, Mommy, Finn, together forever."

I squeezed his tiny hand, terrified he would vanish.

Suddenly, his fingers began to slip away, turning into warm, dripping blood.

"Daddy, save me!"

"Finn!"

I jolted awake, cold sweat pouring down my back. Outside the bedroom door, a soft, whining male voice drifted in.

"Diana, if Johnny finds out I'm staying here, he's going to be so angry with me. You have to promise you'll protect me."

My blood ran cold. Then came Diana's soft chuckle.

"Don't worry, silly. He's away on a business trip, and Finn is at his boarding school. The house is empty."

I couldn't believe my ears. Our son’s ashes were barely cold, and she had already brought Tristan into our home.

The phantom sound of my son’s dying screams and Tristan’s soft, playful laughter crashed together in my skull, threatening to tear my mind apart. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper.

Outside, Diana's footsteps drew closer to Finn's door.

"You can stay in Finn's room for now. The bed is a bit small, but..."

I threw the door open, my sanity shattering into dust.

"Get out! This is my son's room! Who the hell gave you permission to stand here?"

Diana and Tristan froze, eyes wide with shock.

Tristan's recovery was quick, offering a weak, nervous smile. "Johnny, you're home? Wait, wasn't Finn kidnapped? How is he?"

Diana’s face darkened instantly, her eyes filling with cold disappointment.

"I know I've been busy and haven't had time for Finn, Johnny, but this is low. You didn't have to fabricate a kidnapping just because you didn't want him staying at school. If people find out that the husband of a police captain is spreading lies like this, do you have any idea what it will do to my reputation?"

Even now, she chose to believe I was a liar rather than admit her son had actually been taken.

Her only concern was her precious reputation.

The room began to spin. I grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling.

Diana let out a heavy sigh, her tone dripping with irritation.

"I am a police officer. My duty is to the public. I don't expect you to understand the pressure, but I do expect you to stop making things difficult for me. Tristan's father is in the hospital nearby. Staying here makes it easier for Tristan to visit him. Finn isn't even here, so the room is just going to waste anyway."

Emboldened by her defense, Tristan slipped past me into Finn's room, looking around with a pleased expression. "This room is actually bigger than my master bedroom back home. Thank you, Diana."

Diana’s expression softened. "Of course. Stay as long as you need."

Watching them discuss how to redecorate my dead son's sanctuary, a primal rage took over. I lunged forward, shoving Tristan hard.

"Get the hell out! This is my son's room! Get out!"

Tristan stumbled back, his eyes immediately welling with tears.

Diana caught him, her face twisting in anger.

"Johnny! If you have a problem, take it out on me! Tristan is a guest. Why can't you show some basic decency?"

Tristan leaned his head against her shoulder, sniffling softly. "Johnny is probably still upset that you couldn't pick Finn up the other day. I'm sorry, Johnny. It's my fault. I rely on Diana too much. But please, don't worry. I won't stay for free. I'll help around the house. Let me clean up this cabinet for you..."

"Don't touch that!"

Seeing his hand reach toward the framed photo of Finn on the cabinet, my heart leaped into my throat. I threw myself forward.

The frame slipped through my fingers and crashed onto the hardwood floor, the glass shattering, slicing my son's smiling face into jagged pieces.

The sharp pain of the glass slicing into my palms was nothing compared to the agony in my chest.

I fell to my knees, desperately gathering the broken pieces of the photo. "Who told you to touch him?"

Tristan shrank back, his face pale as he clutched at his shirt. He looked at Diana, his voice trembling. "Diana, I didn't mean to. I just got startled. Finn is so young, why would Johnny put up a photo like that in his room? It looks like a memorial. Isn't that bad luck for the boy?"

Diana’s face turned incredibly grim. She stepped forward and snatched the torn photo right out of my hands.

"What are you doing? Give it back! Diana, give it back!" I screamed, terrified.

She pushed me away.

"I should ask you what you think you're doing, Johnny! Are you so bitter toward me that you're willing to curse our own son? He is just a little boy! Why are you acting like he's dead?"

But Diana, he is dead.

And you're the one who killed him.

Before I could speak, she tore the remaining paper to shreds, tossing the pieces in my face. The sharp edges nicked my cheek, but my heart was already bleeding.

I knelt on the floor, trying to piece his face back together with trembling fingers.

My mind drifted back to the years when Diana and I began to drift apart because of Tristan.

I was always the one taking Finn to the park, attending his parent-teacher conferences, taking him to the clinic for his vaccines.

Whenever the other parents asked, "Where is Diana? Working again?" I would just offer a tight, quiet smile and hold my boy closer.

I knew she wasn't too busy. She was just busy with Tristan.

Tristan’s cat was lost, Tristan’s apartment was broken into, Tristan’s boss was giving him a hard time...

On the day of the kidnapping, Finn had looked up at me and said, "Daddy, my birthday wish this year is for you to be happy."

He was so small, yet he already understood how broken we were.

I had failed to protect him in life, and now, I was failing to protect his memory in death.

Diana’s sharp voice dragged me back to the cold room.

"Burn those stupid pieces of paper. I don't want to see them again! Johnny, if you keep acting like this, you're going to ruin this family. Don't blame me if I end up divorcing you!"

If Finn were still alive, I would have swallowed my pride and endured her words once again.

But now, I looked up, my eyes bloodshot and dead.

"You don't have to threaten me. We are getting a divorce. Pack up your little friend and get out of my son's room, or I'll call the station and have your colleagues come drag you both out."

Diana pinched the bridge of her nose, her voice laced with exhaustion.

"Johnny, can you please be rational for once? If I get a mark on my record, how does that help Finn? Can't you think about him for a second?"

"Think about him?"

I grabbed a broom from the corner and swung it at them, screaming like a lunatic.

"When you left our high-fever son with me while I was doubled over with a stomach ulcer just to take Tristan to an interview, did you think about him? When you were flirting with him, and everyone was whispering that my son and I were just a mistress and a schoolyard secret, did you think about him?"

Diana shielded Tristan, her face turning pale. "That was years ago! Why do you always have to drag up the past? I have a demanding job, Johnny. I can't stay home and watch you two twenty-four hours a day!"

Tristan clutched her arm, looking incredibly meek. "Johnny, I'm so sorry. I had no idea you felt this way about me. There's nothing going on between us. Once my father is out of the hospital, I'll take him back to our hometown. I'll stay far away. Please don't fight with Diana. She works so hard every day."

His submissive tone only made Diana more protective. She glared at me, her eyes filled with disgust.

"You've worked so hard to build a life here, Tristan. Your father deserves the best medical care. You have nothing to apologize for. He is the one who should be apologizing."

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. Our seven-year marriage was nothing but a sickening joke.

"Why should I apologize? He isn't going anywhere. He’s just putting on a show to make you feel sorry for him!"

Tristan bit his lip, tears spilling over. "Johnny, I was only trying to help. Why do you hate me so much?"

Seeing his tears, Diana’s anger erupted. She grabbed the broom from my hands and shoved me back with all her strength.

"Enough, Johnny! Don't push me to my limit!"

The sharp edge of the cabinet corner sliced into my back. I gasped at the sudden, biting pain, but I forced a cold laugh.

"I’m the one divorcing you, Diana. I regret the day I met you. If I had never married you, maybe our son wouldn't..."

Before I could finish, Tristan’s phone rang. He answered it, gasping in horror. "Diana, the hospital said my father ran away again! What do I do?"

Diana immediately wrapped her arm around him. "Don't panic. I'll get my unit to look for him right now. We'll find him."

She glanced at my pale, sweating face, her tone shifting slightly. "Tristan only has his father left. I'll come back as soon as we find him. Make sure you pick Finn up from school today. I remember his birthday is coming up. Let's have a nice family dinner."

I let out a hollow laugh. "Diana, Finn's birthday was two days ago."

The day he died.

But she didn't hear me. She was already dragging Tristan out the door, her back turned to me once again.