I Went to Prison for Him, He Gave My Life to His Mistress

The heavy iron gates of the state penitentiary clanged shut behind me, the sound vibrating in my teeth. Three years. Three years of concrete walls and scheduled breathing. I stepped onto the gravel shoulder, the bright afternoon sun blinding me momentarily.

I rubbed my eyes, scanning the desolate stretch of road. A sleek black sedan idled near the curb. A man leaned against the passenger door, checking his phone. Ryan. My husband.

Next to him stood a young boy, kicking at a loose rock.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild, frantic rhythm. Lucas. He had grown so much.

I didn't think. I just ran.

I sprinted across the cracked asphalt, ignoring the sharp rocks biting through the thin soles of my prison-issued shoes. I dropped to my knees the second I reached them, throwing my arms around the boy's small frame. I buried my face in his expensive wool jacket, inhaling deeply.

"Lucas, my baby," I choked out, tears instantly spilling over my eyelashes. "Mommy's finally home. I missed you so much."

Two small hands shoved hard against my collarbone. The unexpected force sent me stumbling backward, my palms scraping against the rough pavement.

"Get off me, you freak!" the boy shrieked.

He wiped frantically at his jacket, his face twisted in pure disgust, as if I had just smeared him with garbage.

I blinked, the tears clearing just enough to actually look at him. The boy had Ryan's sharp jawline, but his eyes were a piercing, unfamiliar green. The hair was too light. The nose was wrong.

This wasn't my son.

The boy spun toward Ryan, kicking the tire of the sedan with a heavy thud.

"We came all the way out here for this?" the boy yelled. "Is this why we can't be with Mom for her birthday? Because of this dirty jailbird? I hate you, Dad!"

I froze. The gravel dug into my bleeding palms, but the physical pain vanished beneath a sudden, icy shock.

"Dad?" I stared up at Ryan, my pulse roaring in my ears. "Who is he calling Mom? Ryan, what is going on?"

Ryan didn't flinch. He didn't offer a hand to help me up. He simply adjusted his silk tie, looking down at me with eyes as cold as the concrete under my feet.

"Her name is Vanessa," he said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "Vanessa Hart. We've built a new family together while you were away."

My stomach plummeted. The air left my lungs in a violent rush. "A new family? What are you talking about?"

"She's a very generous woman, Evelyn," Ryan continued, stepping slightly in front of the boy to shield him from me. "She knows you have absolutely nothing left. She even agreed to let you stay in the guest room for a few nights until you figure out your living situation."

"Nothing left? A guest room?" I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the dirt clinging to my jeans. "Where is Lucas? Where is my son, Ryan?"

Ryan checked his gold watch, looking bored. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" I lunged forward, stopping just inches from his chest. "I went to that hellhole for three years! I took the fall for your massive tax fraud so you wouldn't spend a decade in federal prison!"

"You made a choice," Ryan said flatly.

"I made a choice to keep our family together!" I screamed, the betrayal tearing at my throat. "You swore to me you would protect Lucas. You swore he would never know I was in here!"

"Plans change, Evelyn."

"Where is he?" I demanded.

"He ran away," Ryan replied, swatting invisible dust off his lapel. "A month after you got locked up. The little brat packed a backpack in the middle of the night and vanished."

"You let a seven-year-old run away? You didn't look for him? You didn't call the police?"

"I filed a report. They found nothing. For all I know, he's dead under a bridge somewhere."

A sickening wave of nausea washed over me.

"He was a loser anyway," the boy chimed in, crossing his arms and glaring at me. "An ungrateful piece of trash who didn't know how good he had it. Mom says he got what he deserved."

A violent tremor seized my hands. I reached out and grabbed the lapels of Ryan's tailored suit, twisting the expensive fabric in my fists.

"How dare you let him speak about my son like that!" I yelled. "Have you forgotten exactly who you are, Ryan? Have you forgotten where you live?"

Ryan stared blankly at my white-knuckled grip on his jacket.

"The estate you live in," I spat, shaking him. "The company you run. They don't belong to you or this Vanessa woman. They belong to my father! They belong to me!"

Ryan barked out a laugh. It was a sharp, ugly sound that echoed off the prison walls behind me. He reached up and peeled my fingers off his jacket, one by one, with terrifying strength.

"They used to belong to you," he sneered, shoving my hands away. "The board of directors doesn't look kindly on convicted felons. They voted you out the second the judge banged the gavel."

"They can't vote me out!" I countered, my chest heaving. "I own sixty percent of the shares! My father built that empire from the ground up!"

"Your father is dead," Ryan stated coldly. "And you are a felon."

"I am the majority shareholder!"

"Not anymore." A cruel smirk played on his lips. "You signed them over to me."

"I never signed any transfer documents!"

"Think back, Evelyn. Right before the trial."

The memory hit me like a physical blow. The cramped, windowless visiting room just days before my sentencing. Ryan sitting across the metal table, sliding stacks of paper toward me, his eyes wide and desperate.

*Sign these, Evie. It's just a formality to protect the company assets while you're inside. I'll keep everything safe for you and Lucas until you get out.*

"You set me up," I whispered, the realization tasting like ash in my mouth. "You tricked me. You stole my father's legacy."

"I secured my future," Ryan corrected smoothly. "You were just the stepping stone."

"Dad, come on!" The boy yanked aggressively on Ryan's sleeve, whining loudly. "Vanessa is waiting at the restaurant. Let the jailbird go sleep on the street with that trash Lucas."

A blind rage snapped the last thread of my restraint. I stepped toward the kid, pointing a shaking finger directly at his face.

"Do not ever insult my son again!"

A loud crack shattered the air.

My head snapped violently to the side. The metallic taste of blood instantly flooded my mouth. The sheer force of the impact sent me crashing against the side of the car, my cheek burning with agonizing heat.

Ryan stood over me, his right hand still raised in the air. His polite, indifferent facade was completely gone, replaced by a vicious, threatening glare.

"Keep your filthy voice down," he hissed, leaning in so close I could smell the mint on his breath. "And stay the hell away from my precious son."

He turned on his heel, yanking the passenger door open for the boy.

"Get in, Max," Ryan muttered.

He slammed the door shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot, before walking around to the driver's side.

The engine roared to life, kicking up a thick cloud of gray exhaust. I slumped against the cold metal of the prison fence, coughing as I watched my father's car speed away down the highway.

I wiped the blood from my split lip, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. He thought he could steal my company, replace me with another woman, and leave my son to die on the streets.

He was wrong.

A sleek silver SUV pulled up to the curb, its tinted window sliding down to reveal a sharp-featured man in a dark suit.

"Evelyn Carter?" the man asked, his tone strictly business. "Get in. We have a lot to discuss about your husband's new empire."