As a billionaire, I came to tear down my old home, but froze at the sight of my “dead” wife holding a child. Seeing his little face, my legs gave out and a sob broke from my throat. I reached out, crying, “Is… is that my son?” With a terrified look, she slammed the door and whispered, “Forgive me…”

before surrendering, she had triggered the trap she had laid nine years ago.

I slammed my foot onto the accelerator, the engine roaring as I tore through the city streets, praying I wouldn’t be too late to stop the wreckage.

Chapter 4: The Reckoning on Maple Street

The tires of my sedan screamed in protest as I took the corner onto Maple Street, jumping continue reading …