Seven Years As His Wife… Until My Own Son Called Me A Homewrecker Chapter 16

Seven Years As His Wife… Until My Own Son Called Me A Homewrecker Chapter 16

The security footage showed what had happened. Late the night before, Adrian had received a call, left Noah

outside my apartment, and hurried away.

Noah knocked for a long time, but I slept through it. Eventually, he went looking for his father. Police found

him alone hours later.

I was about to ask what he remembered when my phone rang.

Vanessa’s name appeared on the screen.

I answered, and her voice came through low and unsteady with madness.

“I have Adrian. I want one billion dollars in cash and safe passage out of the country. Once I’m gone, I’ll tell

you where he is.”

I put the call on speaker for the officers.

“You called the wrong person,” I said. “I left that marriage with nothing. Where would I get a billion dollars?”

“Don’t lie to me!” Vanessa shouted. “Adrian got on his knees to beg you to come back. You expect me to

believe you won’t pay to save him?”

Noah clutched my hand. “Mom, please save Dad.”

“I’m Adrian’s ex-wife,” I told Vanessa. “Do you understand what that means? People don’t become exes

because they’re still in love. Call the Blackwood family if you want their money.”

I ended the call.

Noah stared at me, then began to cry as the truth finally reached him.

“Mom, you really don’t want us anymore?”

I answered carefully. “Even without me, your father can care for you. You also have the entire Blackwood

family behind you. Your life is safer and more privileged than almost any other child’s. You are not helpless.”

I did not hold him or wipe his tears. He had watched and cheered while I was forced to my knees and beaten

bloody.

That did not mean I ignored the kidnapping. I gave the officers the Blackwood family’s contact information

so they could reach the people with the money and authority to help.

I also bought Noah a ticket back to Norland and personally put him on the plane. He cried until boarding

ended. My chest ached, but I let him go.

For the next month, I heard nothing about Adrian.

Then his name rose to the top of every social platform.

Police had rescued him after Vanessa and her accomplices tortured him so badly that he permanently lost the use of both legs. Vanessa died in a shootout after refusing to surrender.

Adrian spent ten days in the intensive care unit. The first call he made after waking was to me.

I was grinding coffee when the phone rang, and I answered without checking the number. Silence filled the

line, and I knew at once who it was.

“If there’s nothing important, I’m hanging up.”

His breathing quickened. “I need to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“When Vanessa’s people had me, was there even one moment when you worried?” His voice broke. “Can you

truly feel nothing after everything we shared? Did you ever love me at all?”

My hand stilled.

After a long pause, I said, “I did love you, Adrian.”

Once.

Years later, I married again. My husband was an ordinary man who cherished me without conditions. We had

a bright, lively daughter and built a quiet, happy life together.

Much later, I heard that Adrian had taken his own life the day Ethan turned eighteen.

And he had spent every year after I left alone.