My Son's Oscar Worthy Performance
In my past life, my husband, Ricardo Whitman—a celebrated fintech prodigy on Wall Street—died from what was reported as “sudden anaphylactic shock” after a charity gala. What he left me, aside from a chasm of grief, was a massive two-and-a-half-million-dollar debt.
For the sake of my son, Connor, who was still in high school, I sold my proudest creation—a penthouse loft I had designed myself. I moved into a basement in Brooklyn, working three part-time jobs a day to pay off what were supposedly "investment losses."
The long-term mental stress and overwork took their toll. My body finally gave out, and I succumbed to illness in that squalid rented room. On my deathbed, I overheard my son, by then in college, on a video call. On the other end of the screen was his father, who was supposed to be dead.
In that moment, the truth sliced open my heart like a scalpel. The so-called debt was nothing but a cryptocurrency money-laundering scheme orchestrated by Ricardo and his lover and business partner, Selina Ford. My husband had faked his death to pull a vanishing act.
And my son, Connor, was a knowing accomplice from the very beginning. He watched as my life was drained away, all so he could one day inherit that ill-gotten wealth without any burdens.
With a heart full of burning resentment, I took my last breath.
When I opened my eyes again, I was assaulted by blinding spotlights and the scent of champagne. I was back at the gala, at the very moment Ricardo collapsed into my arms and stopped breathing.
The day my world fell apart.
ManyWriters · Fantasy
Why you no English. WHY YOU NO ENGRISH. This novel does not speak it