Husband You’ve abandoned Me. Fine, I’ll Focus On Raising My Son

For five years, Sienna played the perfect role: a silent wife in a marriage built on nothing but a contract. She cooked, cleaned, and raised a son who now clings to another woman and calls her “Mommy.” In the mansion she once called home, Sienna is nothing but a ghost—unseen, unheard, unloved. When her husband’s ex returns and effortlessly takes everything—his attention, his affection, and even Sienna’s place in their son’s heart—Sienna remains quiet. Until a cruel accident leaves her lying on the pavement... alone and forgotten. That’s when she realizes: no one is coming to save her. Not her husband. Not even her child. Will Sienna choose to forgive... or will she finally walk away for good?

“No, this is fraud. You can't take my son away!” Blue shouts, lips trembling and heart hammering wildly as she pins a hard glare on her husband, Asher. “You signed it. He is mine” Asher counters, breaking her already shattered heart. Blue Vorozi has everything, a loving husband, an adorable son and a nice fairytale life until it starts to crack and overtake with bitter reality she never saw coming. Asher Vorozi is caught in a scandal with the wife of his business partner that spreads all over the internet. He throws divorce papers in Blue's face. As though a heartbreak and betrayal isn't enough of a torture, he takes her child away as well. With no one by her side, Blue is helpless. But can a mother's love ever stop her from fighting for her child? Asher might have seen the loving wife. Now he will see the resilient mother, ready to rip those apart that come her way.

THE ABANDONED WIFE Today is our third wedding anniversary. Dinner is ready… but he never came home. Our union was never built on love—just a misunderstanding. Three years, no child, a mother-in-law who never accepted me, a distant husband, and yet… I still love him. Three days ago, I found out I was pregnant. Tonight, I was hoping to tell him the news. But a notification shattered everything: a photo of him, kissing my sister. I recognized the place. I grabbed my keys. I came back alone. I spent the night crying. In the next room, they made love. And I, curled up on a sofa, hit rock bottom. In the morning, his mother woke me with a bucket of ice water. She screamed that I was no longer her daughter-in-law, that I had no place here anymore. So I left soaked, humiliated, shattered. But in my pocket, there is a crumpled piece of paper. A stranger's first name. A gaze that fell on me, last night. The only one that truly saw me. Maybe this is where it all begins.

In our five years of marriage, I had given in to my husband, John, for a grand total of three times. The first time was during my pregnancy. He had taken his ex-girlfriend Stacy, who had once taken three bullets for him, back home and cared for her. When I became angry, he immediately sent her away once she recovered. The second time was after childbirth, when I was ready to return to work. To repay a favor, he gave the position I had worked years for to Stacy. He said it was so I could rest well. I looked at my son, who needed me, and I conceded. The third time was during our son’s birthday. In front of the entire company, he had announced that Stacy was his wife, all so she could establish herself in the company. I gave him two choices: divorce or send her away. Without hesitation, he chose the latter and immediately sent her abroad. The fourth time was when my father suddenly had a heart attack and urgently needed surgery. He disappeared again. I searched everywhere for him to cover the hospital expenses, and I finally discovered that he had gone to the airport to pick up a pregnant Stacy, who was returning to the country. Because of that, my father missed the best chance for treatment and died. I was done giving in. I disguised the divorce agreement as our son’s medical bill and tricked him into signing it. No compensation or apology would matter. I did not wish to have him near my son or myself again.

After marrying an ice-cold husband and giving birth to an equally ice-cold son, I finally got pregnant with a daughter of my own. At the dinner table, I tested the waters and asked my son whether he wanted a little sister. But he only shook his head. "I already have a little sister." I stared at him, certain he was joking. There wasn't even a stuffed doll in the house. Where would he have gotten a sister? The next second, my husband suddenly spoke. "I cheated. The girl is pregnant. "She had an amniocentesis yesterday. It's a girl." I froze where I stood. My husband only looked at me and went on in that slow, unhurried tone. "I'm keeping the child. The girl is young and healthy, and a child born from her will be smart, too." It felt as if a great hand had closed around my heart. The prenatal report hidden behind my back suddenly pressed down on me until I could hardly breathe.

After three years of marriage, we became the couple everyone in the city envied. I truly believed Edmund and I would be happy forever—until my sister, Avery, returned. Everything changed. My husband’s constant favoritism toward her and my son’s growing coldness left me unable to carry on. On Christmas Day, I walked into the courthouse. When the judge asked me one last time if I wanted to fight for my son’s custody, I simply shook my head. “Your Honor, I waive my right to custody, and I agree to the divorce.” Out of our seven years of marriage, two had been spent trapped in endless legal battles. I was utterly exhausted. This time, I chose to let go. I dialed a number and called my old professor, Robert, overseas. “Professor Robert, that research project you mentioned before... I’m in.”