When My Husband Chose His Golden Boy, I Chose His Worst Enemy

My son was kidnapped. They demanded one billion dollars. Every second felt like my veins were being carved open, but I still managed to gather the money, hands trembling as I pressed the transfer button.

Then the notification came. ‘Transaction failed.’

I thought it was a mistake until I learned the truth: my account had been frozen. By my husband’s mistress. His secretary.

I staggered into the CEO’s office, desperate. “Why?! Why would you do this when my child’s life—”

Astrid didn’t even blink. She reached into her drawer, pulled out a two dollars and threw it in my face.

“Here." The bills fluttered down like mockery. "A down payment. You can bargain with the kidnappers. Ask them if they’ll take it in installments. If not…” She tilted her head sweetly. “Then maybe they can return your son to you in installments too.”

Something inside me snapped. “Bitch!” My palm connected with her cheek, once, twice, the sting burning up my arm.

Astrid staggered back with a shriek, clutching her face. “Clinton!” she screamed, “Clinton!”

The door slammed open. Clinton stormed in, his shadow swallowing me whole. He didn’t ask, didn’t care. His boot landed square against my chest, the crack of impact stealing my breath. I fell to the floor, gasping from pain.

And then he pulled Astrid into his arms, holding her as if she were the fragile one. His gaze cut through me.

“How dare you hit her! Try hurting the woman I love again and I’ll make you wear a dog’s face for the rest of your life.”

The words hit harder than his kick.

Before I could even scream, my phone vibrated. A new message. I opened it with shaking hands.

The video played. My son... my boy... his tiny fingers crushed one by one, his cries strangled into sobs. Blood smeared his hands.

“Mom! Mommy, help me! Help—”

The sound tore through my soul.

“Clinton, please!” I rasped, clawing at the floor just to lift myself up, ribs grinding against the pain. “He’s our son! Your son. Clyde is... he’s just a boy. Do something. Call them back. You have the money… Save him.” My voice broke, raw and bleeding, but I forced it out because his life was slipping away in every second I wasted.

Clinton’s eyes darkened, not with fear, not even with pity, but with contempt. “Our son?” His laugh was low, poisonous. “Savannah, how many times do I have to say it? He isn’t mine. I already had the DNA tests done. My only son was Tyler—my son with Maisie.”

“That test—” I tried to scream, but it came out a sob. “It was tampered with. Astrid—she—”

“Enough!” His voice cracked like a whip, slicing my plea in half. He pulled Astrid tighter against him, as if shielding her from my desperation. “You’re pathetic. Do you really think I don’t see through you? This little performance? Tears, begging, hysteria... it’s all the same trick. You staged this, Savannah. Paid some thug to snatch that bastard just so I’d look at you again. Admit it.”

My heart seized. “No—Clinton, I swear—”

But his sneer only deepened. “You crave attention so badly, you’d sell your own child’s fear for it. Don’t you get it? Even if those fake kidnappers kill him, it won’t matter to me. He is not my blood.”

Then the door creaked open right on cue.

“Dad!” A little voice, bright as sunlight cutting through rot. Tyler. Clinton’s golden boy. He bounded inside with a toy car in his hand, tugging on Clinton’s sleeve. “Can we go to the amusement park now? You promised!”

The scene was grotesque. Ordinary. Domestic. My body was folded on the floor like broken glass, and here came Tyler, all smiles while my son’s screams still echoed in my skull from the video.

Something inside me cracked wide open. I dragged myself across the floor and collapsed against Clinton’s knees, clutching his leg like a beggar.

“Please,” I rasped, tears smearing my face. “Please, Clinton. Save Clyde. Let Astrid unfreeze the account. Do whatever you have to... I’ll sign the divorce papers, I’ll disappear from your life forever. Just… just save our son. He’s only a boy. He’s ours.”

“Funny. I never froze her account,” Astrid said innocently, “Maybe she emptied it herself. Maybe she’s the one playing games.”

“Stop acting saint, Astrid!”

“Who is this woman?” Tyler suddenly whined, frowning at me as if I were some bug on his father’s floor. “She’s ruining my mood, Dad.”

And just like that, Clinton’s face softened... not for me, not for Clyde, but for Tyler.

“Don’t worry, son. She won’t bother you anymore.”

He lifted his hand to his men, “Take her away.”

Rough hands yanked me up before I could breathe. I screamed, twisted, begged, but they dragged me down the hall, my voice swallowed by Tyler’s cheerful laughter fading behind me.

The door to a windowless storage room slammed shut. Darkness swallowed me whole.

I pounded the door with my fists, ribs screaming, throat raw. “Please! Clinton, Astrid—please!” Silence answered. Only the ticking clock inside my head, counting down to the ransom deadline.

My phone was still in my pocket. Shaking, I pulled it out.

My thumb hovered over one name. The only name left. I pressed the dial...

It rang once. Twice.

A click.

“Rafael speaking,” a voice answered.