Someone reported me for cooking the books, and the company fired me and blacklisted me for good.
I went looking for work again and again, and no one would take me.
But life had to go on, so all I could do was lease a big fish pond outside the city and raise fish.
I emptied out every last dime I had, my burial money included, just to make it work.
And I actually pulled it off. My fish got glowing reviews from buyers, and the big orders came in.
With capital behind me, I leased more ponds and hired plenty of people to work.
Then, right before the fish were ready to sell, they all died overnight. Poisoned.
The blow was too much. I coughed up blood and passed out.
When I opened my eyes again, no one was there.
I was getting ready to check out of the hospital when, outside the maternity room next door, I saw that my wife had given birth.
I was so happy I reached for the door, and then I heard it:
"What? You put Rhys Gilbert up to this? You had his mother poison his fish?"
"Yes. Because his mother favors her lover's son, Tristan Henson."
"And back then, framing him for cooking the books so he could never work a white-collar job again, that was his mother too."
"Why?"
"Because Rhys crushed Tristan at every turn, drove him into depression, while Rhys himself was doing better than ever. If they didn't knock him down a peg, Tristan was going to throw himself in the river!"
"And the baby, it isn't even his!"
...
1
"Don't you think what you're doing is a little cruel?"
"Right! Even outsiders like us feel sorry for Rhys."
Her friends were stunned.
Cara Harding lay in the hospital bed, looking up at the newborn son cradled in her friend's arms.
And out in the hall, it was as though a hand had closed around my throat. I fought just to breathe.
I couldn't believe that everything that had happened to me had come from my own mother and my own wife.
And all of it, for one person. Their adopted son, Tristan.
I remembered that day at the company, everyone pointing at me with those snide voices, calling me dirty-handed, saying that embezzling wasn't enough, I'd cooked the books on top of it.
Before I could even react, Cara hurled a teacup at my head.
The cup split my head open, and every explanation I gave turned into a cover-up. The charge would never wash off.
They say a man carries gold beneath his knees and must never kneel.
But I knelt anyway, explaining again, crying in despair, and Cara fired me all the same.
No one at the company knew we were married, so she said she had to avoid any appearance of favoritism, that she couldn't let me drag her down.
I did as I was told and left. Branded like that, no one dared hire me.
All I could do was take what money I had left and go raise fish outside the city. Why?
Why couldn't they let me go? Why poison my fish too?
I didn't understand. The pain filled me completely.
The tears ran into my cracked lips, bitter, no sweetness at all, the way my whole life had gone to nothing.
Through the gap in the door, their conversation reached my ears again.
"Why does his mother favor Tristan so much? He's just the son of some old lover of hers!"
"Exactly! Rhys is her own flesh and blood, and you're his wife. Why would you both help an adopted son do this to Rhys?"
Out in the hall, I clenched my fists. I wanted to know that too.
I was the one who was her own son. I was the one who honored her most.
Even when she dies, I'll be the one to bury her, buy the coffin, handle the arrangements.
Cara let out a sigh.
"Because my mother-in-law never loved Rhys's father. But her family insisted she marry him, and that cost her a lifetime with Tristan's father. A lifelong regret."
"So she resents Rhys's father, and she resents Rhys along with him. As for Tristan, I suppose she loves him for his father's sake."
"After Tristan's father died, he made her promise to take good care of him."
"But once they brought Tristan home, Rhys was just too brilliant. He beat Tristan at everything. Tristan was timid and insecure to begin with, and Rhys still never knew when to hold back."
