Chapter 3

"The scar on your face was from back then. Ms. Reinfield only married you because you used it to threaten her."

The butler's voice faltered, but I already understood what he was implying.

"So… I was the one who killed Jacob?"

He nodded. "When your father found out, his rage triggered a stroke. He passed not long after."

My mind went blank. I couldn't breathe. But how could that be? I wasn't someone so extreme. I could never do such a thing.

Staggering home in a daze, I found Alicia already there. Compared to this morning, she looked utterly worn down, her face streaked with tears.

The words slipped out of me instinctively. "It wasn't me…"

But she snapped, her voice breaking into a hysterical scream.

"There were only the two of you in that car! Who else could it have been but you? Your jealousy is terrifying! I praised Jacob once—just once—and you killed him for it!"

Her bloodshot eyes fixed on me, burning with the conviction that I was a monster beyond redemption.

I tried to explain, but before I could, a small body barreled into me. I stumbled back under the force.

It was Jake. Tiny fists raised, he stood between me and his mother, glaring.

"Don't bully Mommy!"

My heart lurched. Looking at him, one thought struck me with chilling clarity—his name.

I forced the question out, my throat tight. "So… Jake's name… It's short for Jacob?"

Alicia drew in sharp, deliberate breaths, as though trying to suppress her emotions. After a long silence, she looked at me again. Her earlier hysteria was gone, replaced by an icy calm.

"You just admitted it yourself. Why keep pretending?"

Without giving me a chance to speak, she turned and left.

Despair hollowed me out, but still I wanted to explain.

Yet Jake clung to my sleeve with all his strength, his little face twisted from the effort. His voice, soft yet relentless, repeated like a curse, "Bad man. Don't bully Mommy!"

A crushing sense of helplessness swallowed me whole. In the end, I yielded to his demand.

I sank into the living room sofa, mind spiraling. No matter how I turned it over, I could not believe I was capable of such a crime.

Across from me, Jake sat watchful, eyes sharp as blades, guarding against me as though I were some predator.

"Jake," I ventured, voice low, "can you tell Daddy what happened between me and Mommy?"

His face hardened, his glare searing with hatred.

"You don't deserve to mention Mommy. I wish you two would divorce already!"

The words pierced me. For a moment, I froze, then met his icy gaze and realized—he wasn't lying.

I shook my head in despair, a bitter smile tugging at my lips.

If Jacob were still alive, I could confront him and demand to know why he had framed me. But now… the dead leave no testimony.

With a long, heavy sigh, I rose to return to my room.

At once, Jake sprang up too, eyes wary and locked on me.

I raised a hand in surrender, offering a helpless explanation. "I'm not going to your Mommy. I just want to rest."

Only then did he relax, visibly relieved.

I should have felt proud—proud that my son, still so young, already knew how to protect his mother.

So why did my heart ache instead?

…

Lying in bed, grief pressed down on me from every side.

I racked my brain for ways to prove my innocence, but no thread led anywhere.

I was sure my 23-year-old self was not capable of such a crime. But could I say the same for my 28-year-old self?

No wonder the reflection I had seen in the mirror that morning had been disheveled and broken.

Still, I couldn't just give up. I loved Alicia too much to watch our love vanish without a fight.

Then, suddenly, an idea sparked—hire a private investigator.

I grabbed my phone in haste, searching for contacts, but by accident opened the Notes app instead.

What I saw there made my blood run cold.

Pages and pages, crammed with entries.

I had always kept notes before, recording Alicia's preferences and our anniversaries.

But now—now every entry belonged to the twenty-eight-year-old me. Each line bled with helplessness and despair.

I scrolled through them all, reading every word.

And at last… the truth of what happened that year revealed itself.