My Husband Killed His Own Son
Over Labor Day weekend, my workaholic husband finally agreed to take our two kids on a beach vacation.
I was out on the water with my son, Blake Warren, when the ocean surface suddenly exploded with 99 towering columns of water. Blake nearly tumbled into the sea from the shock, screaming as he clung to me desperately.
From a yacht not far away came the cheers of my husband, Zachary Warren, and his secretary, Celeste Quinn.
I gripped my phone tightly and called him. "Zachary, have you lost your mind? Stop this right now! Blake is here too!"
Yet, he only sneered. "You wouldn't let Celeste come on this trip, and she's been upset for days because of it. She got her feelings hurt, so I have to make it up to her somehow. Besides, it'd be better if that bastard son of yours just died anyway.
Then, he ordered someone beside him, "Fire 50 more torpedoes. Teach her a lesson she won't forget."
Before he had even finished speaking, wave after wave of water columns erupted around my boat.
As Blake was about to fall into the water, I screamed with every ounce of strength I had left. "Zachary! Stop this now! This is your own son, Blake!"