1 My son was trapped in a burning building while my billionaire husband photographed his new obsession. “Hold that pose, baby,” Scott Taylor said, his face lit by flames. “I’m getting you ‘Hero of the Year’.” His phone wasn’t aimed at real firefighters—but at Bella, drowning in an oversized uniform, posing with a discarded hose in the safe zone. She tried to turn it on, recoiled, and shrieked, “Jules, it’s too heavy!” Her foot slipped. The nozzle flew, and the water jet—powerful as a ram—shattered the last load-bearing wall. The building collapsed. Coddling her cost my son his last chance. He died buried alive. Scott emerged from rubble clutching his trembling pet, handing me a document coldly: “Sign this accident waiver. Your son was lost anyway. Bella’s traumatized—can’t be blamed.” My fingertips turned icy. He thought our son Leo was buried there. A cruel smile stretched my lips. “I can’t sign this. You’ll need his real mother to.” … Scott’s brow furrowed in annoyance. "Sarah, what the hell are you talking about?" "Just sign the damn paper. Don't push your luck." Bella, nestled in his arms, began to sob, her body trembling like a leaf in an autumn wind. "Jules, don't be mad at Sarah." "Her son just… she must be heartbroken…" Giant, theatrical tears rolled down her cheeks. "It's all my fault. I was so stupid. If I had just been a little braver, maybe this wouldn't have happened…" Scott looked as if his heart was breaking for her, his eyes filled with a tenderness I had never, ever seen directed at me. "Bella, you're just too good for this world," he murmured. "That little brat was never going to amount to anything. His death is a public service. It has nothing to do with you." He turned, his gaze stabbing into me like shards of ice. "Sarah, are you trying to drive a twenty-year-old girl to her grave? Is that what you want?" "Sign the paper. Then go online and tip Bella a million dollars on her livestream. Make a public statement thanking her for her bravery. Do you hear me?" I almost laughed out loud. When Scott got the call about the fire at our old family estate, he had rushed over with Bella, playing the hero. I'd foolishly thought it was a flicker of sentimentality. I see now he was just eager to create a PR opportunity for his new plaything. Now a child was dead, and the family was expected to pay the killer and sing her praises? But since Scott believed the dead boy was worthless, why should I argue? "I can sign," I said. "But your word isn't enough." "Let's do this: I'll start a recording. You just repeat everything you just said. We'll call it a supplementary statement for the authorities and the public." Scott stared at me like I was insane. "Are you brain-dead? It's your son who died, not mine." "What the hell do I care that he's dead?" That look on his face. So familiar. A few days ago, I’d overheard my mother-in-law on the phone. Scott's son from his first marriage to Victoria, a boy named Marcus, was coming home from overseas to surprise him. Marcus was the pride of the family, a world-renowned architect at a young age. In contrast, my son with Scott, Leo, had always been frail and introverted. Later, Scott asked if Leo was playing at the old estate again. My mother-in-law shot me a look, begging me to keep Marcus's surprise a secret, so I went along with it. Only now did I understand the thoughtful, calculating expression on Scott's face when I'd confirmed it. It was disgust. And relief. Seeing me just standing there, holding my phone, he waved his hand in dismissal. "Fine, fine! I, Scott Taylor, confirm that Bella Vance bears no responsibility for this incident. Happy now?" "Now get out of my sight. Can't you see how shaken she is?" Bella shrank into his embrace, but over his shoulder, her seemingly innocent eyes flashed with a triumphant, malicious glee. Scott shoved me aside. As he passed, he paused. "Stop playing the victim, Sarah. A kid like yours? The world is better off without him." I truly hope he can maintain that same detached calm when he finds out it was his genius son who died. During a break in the recovery team’s work, a few firefighters and a police officer approached me to take my statement. They looked uncomfortable. Scott was the property owner, a family member of the deceased, and a powerful public figure. Before they could speak, I handed them the blank liability waiver and my phone with the recording. Every single one of them froze. Leaving the temporary command post, I walked toward the ruins. Halfway there, I saw Scott and Bella, wrapped around each other. He stopped me, shoving a piece of paper in my face. 2 I picked it up. It was an On-site Cremation Consent Form. Even knowing it wasn't my son buried under that rubble, my face hardened. "I refuse. We find a body, dead or alive." Bella let out a derisive laugh. "Oh, Sarah. Now is not the time to be so stubborn!" "If you ask me, the kid was just bad luck. A curse on his parents. God himself must have wanted him gone, burying him alive like that." "Otherwise, why is everyone else fine, and he's the only one in there?" Scott nodded with a smug, condescending smile. "Sarah, your son never did a single thing to make you proud in his life. Now that he's dead, let's not have him waste any more public resources." "Disposing of the remains here saves the state some trouble. It'll be the only contribution he's ever made." Have some respect for the dead. Even if it wasn't his son. How could any human being say something so monstrous? I fought to control my rage. "That was a human life," I said through clenched teeth. "Scott, do you even have a heart?" "I will never agree to this!" I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight I thought the bones would snap. He raised his other hand, his eyes burning with menace. "You really want to do this the hard way, don't you? You just don't understand plain English!" I looked up, my gaze as cold as steel. "You lay one finger on me, Scott, and my parents will destroy you." CRACK. The slap was so hard my head whipped to the side, my ears ringing. "You think your daddy the politician makes you untouchable?" he snarled. "You're always holding your parents over my head. You think I'm scared of them?" He dragged my hand forward and forced my thumbprint onto the consent form. Then he shoved me violently, and I fell to the ground in a heap. I pushed myself up, staring at him in disbelief. The man who once couldn't bear to speak a harsh word to me… had just hit me. Bella immediately rushed to his side, cradling his hand. "Jules, honey, don't be angry. It's not worth hurting your hand over someone like her!" Scott's fury vanished, replaced by a tender concern for his little treasure. "You're right, you're right. Let's not give her another thought." "Come on, I'll take you somewhere nice to eat. Help you calm your nerves." Bella's eyes darted around. "You go ahead, Jules," she cooed. "I want to stay and help a little longer!" "Let me do one last thing for the deceased!" Once Scott was gone, Bella's expression transformed. She walked to the edge of the rubble and picked up a blood-stained piece of concrete. She dropped it in disgust. "Ugh, so gross." She then picked up a charred piece of wood and began poking at the debris. "This is such a huge mess. It's going to take forever to dig him out." "I wonder what he looks like under there. Probably all burnt up. I hope it doesn't give me nightmares." While she poked, she took out her phone, snapped a selfie with the ruins in the background, and sent it to Scott. The caption read: Mourning the lost. Hope there are no fires in heaven. Scott’s voice message came back instantly, dripping with affection. "My Bella is as beautiful as she is kind. Not like some people, who are just cold-hearted bitches." "Don't stay in that gloomy place too long. Don't want you catching the bad juju from that place. I'm waiting in the car, baby." I clapped a hand over my mouth, my stomach churning. Bella looked at me, a sweet, poisonous smile on her face. "Your son is so tragic. Not even a whole body left to bury." "Sarah, he's just a pile of meat now. What difference does it make if they dig him out or not? This is for the best. Don't take it personally." Of course I didn't mind. If Scott, his own father, didn't care, why should a stranger like me? But now that I had seen his true colors, I couldn't stay with him a moment longer. God only knew when he would sell me and Leo out for his precious Bella. I snatched the phone from her hand and spoke into it. "Scott. I want a divorce." 3 Scott stormed out of the car. "Sarah, have you lost your mind?" "Rescues are dangerous! Accidents happen! Your son is dead, and now you're going to blame me?" I looked at him calmly. "I'm not blaming you. I just think we're not right for each other." He gritted his teeth, trying to suppress his anger. "I know this is hard for you to accept right now, but Bella and I did everything we could. You can't just throw the word 'divorce' around like it's a game." Beside him, Bella let out a delayed gasp, pointing a finger at her own chest. "Sarah, if you're not blaming Jules… are you blaming me?" Her eyes instantly reddened, and she sank to the ground, burying her face in her hands. "It's all my fault. I couldn't save your boy." "Sarah, hit me, scream at me, do whatever you want! Just please, don't divorce Jules! He's innocent!" Scott rushed to help her up, then roared at me, "Bella is already under so much pressure, and you're deliberately saying things to provoke her! What's your problem?" "You want a divorce? Get a grip, Sarah. Your son is gone. Your parents are old. You think you're still some untouchable princess?" "Let me make this clear: the only person you have to rely on from now on is me! Not those two washed-up relics you call parents!" I just watched him. His ugly, twisted face was reflected perfectly in my eyes. "Scott. You finally said what you really think." "You used my father's connections to climb the ladder, and now that you're on top, you see my whole family as a burden." "The sight of you right now makes me sick." Scott's face turned a shade of dark crimson. Bella looked completely lost, her eyes darting between us. "Fine! Divorce it is!" he screamed. "You've got balls, Sarah! I'll give you that!" "You just better pray that your parents stay safe and sound for the rest of their lives, and you don't come crying to me for help!" Before he left, he glanced back at the ruins. He picked up a property manager's walkie-talkie and barked into it, "He's a lost cause. Don't waste any more manpower. Notify the family to prepare for the funeral." I had intended to let Scott see his son one last time. Now, I realized, there was no need. A few days later, I arranged a small memorial service for Marcus and notified Scott and his family. He was, after all, my son in name. It was the least I could do. When I returned to the memorial hall after finishing the preparations, I was stunned by what I saw. Red paint had been splashed across Marcus's portrait, and a cartoon turtle had been crudely drawn on his face. The tables, meant for flowers, were littered with snacks and beer cans. The solemn funeral music had been replaced by a deafening DJ track. "This is much better!" Bella giggled, kicking a funeral wreath aside before grabbing a marker to doodle on the memorial scrolls. I stared, my throat tight, unable to speak. Just then, the door opened. Scott strode in. He glanced at the chaos, but there was no anger on his face. In fact, a cold, satisfied smirk played on his lips. Bella winked at him and ran over like a puppy seeking praise. "Jules, you said you didn't want the memorial to be so gloomy. What do you think of my decorations? Creative, right?" Scott walked up to the portrait and looked at the defaced image. He didn't recognize his own son. He even reached out, straightened the frame that Bella had knocked askew, and nodded in satisfaction. His voice was low, but every word was a dagger. "Not bad. All that crying and wailing is so pathetic." "This is how it should be. A big party. A fitting end." 4 Even if he wasn't my biological son, a person deserves respect in death. I stared at Scott, my voice trembling with rage. "You… you can still smile?" He looked at me, bewildered. "It's a celebration of life, don't you get it? Does everything have to be doom and gloom to be respectful?" "Your son loved a good party. I'm just giving him what he would have wanted." "A celebration of life?" I walked toward him, my voice rising with every step. "This is a memorial service! You've destroyed his portrait so badly you can't even recognize him… and you call that respect?" My voice was nearly a roar. "This isn't honoring the dead! This is desecration!" Bella, startled by my outburst, pouted. "Oh, please. It's the 21st century. Why are you so old-fashioned? It's just a dead kid. No need to be so dramatic." Seeing Scott's completely unconcerned expression, I suddenly laughed. "If you don't see a problem with it," I said slowly, "then who am I to object?" "Let's do it your way. A celebration of life it is." Scott paused, a slight frown creasing his brow, as if he hadn't caught the ice in my tone. He took it as surrender. "Sarah, that's the spirit," he said with a smile. "Don't worry. From now on, I'll be twice as good to you." Seeing my compliance, Bella cheered and waved her pack of degenerate friends into the hall. The room quickly filled with the stench of alcohol and the sound of their drunken games. I sat in a corner, watching them, my face a mask of indifference. The emcee arrived on time, holding his program sheet, and froze in the doorway. "What are you waiting for?" Scott ordered. "It's time. Let's get started." The man had no choice but to begin. "Friends, family… today we gather with heavy… uh… joyful hearts, to hold this… celebration of life for the deceased." A few stifled snickers rose from the crowd. "I've seen a wedding get wild, but never a funeral!" "If the kid knew his memorial was a rave, he'd probably rise from the dead just to haunt them!" "No peace even in death. This family must have a lot of enemies." Bella giggled, making sure I could hear her. "See? Even the emcee called it a celebration of life!" "And you were so angry before. You really need to get with the times! This is all the rage overseas!" Scott shot me a contemptuous look. "Some people are just so rigid. We went to all this trouble to throw your son a unique memorial, and you're not even grateful." My lips curved into a smile. "I'm sure my Leo would never be able to appreciate such a… unique memorial," I said calmly. "As for whether your older son likes it… well, that I don't know." Scott's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" I just smiled and said nothing. He snorted. "You think being clever with words will bring your son back?" "Pathetic." Bella immediately linked her arm through his. "Jules, honey, ignore her. She just can't stand to see you happy." Just then, the emcee cleared his throat to move to the next part of the program. "And now, we invite the family of the deceased to come forward and say a few words." As he spoke, the large doors to the hall swung open. An grief-stricken elderly couple walked in, supporting a pale, trembling woman who looked as if she was about to collapse. The smile on Scott's face froze. The woman was his ex-wife, Victoria. I stood up and walked toward them. "Father, Mother," I said to his parents. "You're here." I paused, my gaze sweeping past the petrified Scott to his red-eyed parents, and added, my voice clear and cutting, "This memorial service was Scott's idea, for Marcus. He said… it's a celebration of life." "He said Marcus always loved a good party, and that this was a fitting end."
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