After our three-year-old son accidentally kicked his stepmother—his father's so-called first love—while swimming, she shoved him underwater. With a chilling smile, she told everyone she was just practicing holding her breath.
The others on the poolside tensed, ready to dive in and save him, but she raised a hand to stop them.
I could only watch, frozen in horror, as my son flailed beneath the surface. His little arms grew weaker, his movements slower—until he barely moved at all.
I fell to my knees, begging her to let him out. "He’s only just learned to swim; he can’t hold his breath for long! He didn’t mean to touch Russell Craig. I’ll make him apologize and bow to Russell—please let him out now!"
But my wife only clung to her first love's shoulders, rubbing his arms tenderly, not even glancing at me.
"If you hadn’t spoiled him so much, how could he have kicked someone while swimming? I’m a swimming champion. I know how to teach my child. You just spoil him, always the loving father!"
Half an hour later, my son finally floated to the surface, and when I broke through the crowd to reach him, I saw his swollen, pale face. He had stopped breathing from drowning.
I rushed him to the hospital for emergency treatment, while my wife continued flirting with her first love, picking out a swimsuit for her next competition.
At the hospital entrance, I finally broke down in front of Kendra's father. "Lester’s gone. The five-year agreement is almost up. Please, let me go. I don’t want anything."
——
Kendra's father, full of shame, helped me to my feet, his voice trembling as he tried to comfort me.
"Lester inherited Kendra’s swimming talent. He’ll be fine. Don’t worry too much. He’ll pull through—"
Before he could finish, the emergency room lights went out, and the doctor came out, shaking his head in regret.
"I’m sorry. The child was brought in too late. He had no heartbeat by the time he arrived. We did everything we could."
"And during the rescue, we found something unusual. His stomach was full of water, and there were marks on his ankles. Are you sure he fell into the water by accident?"
I stared at the doctor in disbelief, unable to process his words. "What did you say?"
Images of Lester struggling underwater flashed before my eyes. I had thought he hadn’t come up because he was trying to follow his mother’s instructions, but I never considered that Kendra Glover had bound him to prevent him from escaping the water.
How desperate he must have been.
Kendra's father was furious, his voice full of rage. "A beast! She didn’t even spare her own child."
Just then, a messenger arrived with a fruit cake and said a lady named Glover had sent it.
"Dammit," Kendra's father muttered, glaring at the cake before smashing it to the floor. "She did this to her own son, and instead of coming here, she sends cake? She’s still playing around with that man. The one who forsakes his principles for money and still wants to be part of my family? What a dream!"
He pulled out his phone, ready to call her, but he called more than ten times, and she didn’t pick up. My phone rang instead, and I shakily answered.
Kendra’s voice came through, impatient. "Joseph Stout, did you go to my dad to complain about something minor? Do you think you can trick me with this act about Lester? Don’t be ridiculous."
"It was just a bit of holding his breath. He’s in the hospital, isn’t he? Didn’t your son say he was going to take over my championship? Let him continue practicing for me. Don’t make me lose face."
Her words hit me like a slap. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She had no remorse for what she’d done to our son, and to her, his life was just a game to her.
