Chapter 3

After the burial, I did not let Alex touch my son's urn.

I had Nicholas carry it. We went straight to the hillside house my son had loved most.

Alex was waiting at the gates with a group of people, his eyes bloodshot.

"Olivia, give Eric to me! This was his favorite place. Are you determined to deny him peace even in death?"

I looked at him coldly.

"This house is in my name. I decide who gets to live here. As for his ashes, I'm his mother. The decision is mine."

That afternoon, I had my son's room cleared out and every trophy, photograph, and piece of clothing boxed up and thrown into a garbage truck.

Nicholas stood in the doorway holding the urn, pale and uneasy.

"Mrs. Thomas... this... this is Eric's home. I can't..."

"This isn't Eric's home anymore."

I made the bed with new linens and added his fingerprint to the smart lock on the bedroom door.

"This is your home now."

At midnight, Nicholas slept on the living room couch, clutching a blanket.

I said nothing. I put Eric's custom sneakers from the entryway into a garbage bag and set out two new pairs of house slippers in Nicholas's exact size.

The next day, Emma posted a photo of the scene online.

The headline read, "Socialite Took Her Son's Killer In: Heartless or Insane?"

The comments called me cold-blooded and wished me a gruesome death.

On the fourth day after Nicholas was released on bail, disaster struck.

His mother, Maria, a 70-year-old hospital patient, was targeted by online trolls.

Someone even dug up her room number and left funeral wreaths outside the intensive care unit.

Maria was already gravely ill. The shock sent her condition into a steep decline, and she needed an immediate bone marrow transplant.

Nicholas broke down at the hospital billing desk, begging the staff to perform the procedure before payment.

I arrived with my assistant and charged the $800,000 medical bill to my card.

Alex arrived after hearing the news. When he saw the card in my hand, his face turned livid.

"Olivia, you're using Eric's trust fund to save this murderer's mother?! That's Eric's money!"

I put the receipt in my bag.

"Money sitting in an account is just numbers on a screen. Nicholas's mother is alive. A living person's life is worth more than a dead person's money."

Alex's lips trembled, but no words came out.

Nicholas rushed over and tried to shove a crumpled bank card into my hand.

"My family's debts are mine to pay. Even if my parents die, that's our fate."

I slapped him across the face.

"Is your life worth nothing? From now on, your life and your parents' lives belong to me. If I say they matter, then they matter."

When Maria woke and saw me, she burst into tears and tried to pull out her tubes.

"We got your son killed. Why would you save us? Do you want our whole family to work for you like animals for the rest of our lives, just to ease your own pain?"

I held her down while the nurse restarted the IV.

"I decide how Nicholas repays me. But if you die, he will have no reason to keep living."

To help Nicholas start over, I even tried to bring him into Thomas Group.

The head of human resources brought out Nicholas's file and gently warned me that hiring someone accused of a fatal kidnapping would frighten the staff.

In front of every senior executive, I announced that I would set up an independent charitable fund for him.

In front of every reporter, I admitted that my son's verbal abuse had driven Nicholas to lose control and kidnap him.

That day, I posted an apology from the company's official account.

"Thomas Group heir, Eric Thomas, repeatedly bullied and humiliated Nicholas, a dedicated employee, ultimately driving him to commit a crime. Thomas Group sincerely apologizes to Nicholas and his family."

Thomas Group stock went into free fall.

Everyone thought I had gone mad.

Emma called and begged me to stop.

"Eric is dead. Why are you still dragging his name through the mud?"

I hung up.

Ten minutes later, Alex seized control of the company's account.

He posted a lengthy statement promising to defend Eric's reputation, then released records showing that I had seen a psychiatrist for years.

The records showed nothing more than sleep medication prescribed for chronic insomnia, but people online took them as proof that I had been mentally unstable for years.

Alex then explained to the press, "I don't blame her. Grief has made her ill."

My supposedly "hurt" husband was defending me, making my "cold-bloodedness" seem even more incomprehensible.

The foundation was never established.

That same day, I announced that the house in Eric's name was being formally transferred to Nicholas.