Ex-Husband and Stepson's Regrets are Worthless

At the birthday banquet, I wore my husband Cameron’s late wife’s old dress.

Six-year-old Tyron was furious. He glared at me, his voice shaking with hatred as he accused me in front of everyone.

“How dare you wear my mom’s clothes?” he sneered. “You killed her! You will never be my mother!”

I bit my lip and turned away, refusing to argue with a child who had been taught to despise me. But Cameron saw my retreat as defiance.

That night, he locked me in a room, punishing me for not being the obedient wife he demanded.

Tired of the endless abuse, I made a desperate choice—I would escape. The only way out was through the balcony of five-storey building.

Halfway down the knotted sheets, I froze as Tyron stood in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice ice-cold.

When I couldn’t answer, his smile twisted into something wicked.

“Why not just die?” he whispered, revealing a pair of scissors from behind his back.