Chapter 3

3

My wife, Heather, and I were both in our second marriage.

Toby was her son from her previous marriage with Derek.

They divorced when Toby was three, after which Heather took her mother's advice and changed the boy's last name to hers.

The truth was that Derek had cheated on Heather long before the divorce and knocked up his mistress.

Once he learned the other woman was carrying a boy, he abandoned his custody claim over Toby and demanded the family's luxury sedan instead.

He didn't take their house only because the deed was under Heather's parents' names.

Since the house was in the city center near my former job, I simply moved into their place after our wedding.

When I married Heather, countless friends warned me against raising another man's son, telling me I'd end up unappreciated and cast aside.

Back then, I was thoroughly captivated by Heather's charm and beauty.

Plus, Toby had been living with his grandmother in the countryside, so I didn't worry too much.

Shortly after I moved in, however, her parents brought Toby back to the city, clearly guarding against the possibility of me trying to claim their property.

That was the first time I met Toby. He was filthy, with dried snot smeared across his cheeks.

Seeing how disheveled he was, I figured other kids at preschool must have picked on him.

It reminded me of being bullied in my own childhood, and my heart softened.

The moment her parents moved back, they treated me like a live-in servant, constantly looking down on me.

I suggested buying our own house and moving out, but Heather shut it down, insisting we needed to save every penny for Toby's future college fund.

On top of that, Heather failed to conceive during our first two years of marriage.

A fertility check revealed I had low motility, which could be cured with proper rest and exercise, so I quit my corporate job to focus on recovery.

Fortunately, I had saved a substantial nest egg from my previous career, so I managed my health while taking charge of Toby's education, ignoring all outside warnings.

After Toby started school in the city, my patient guidance gradually helped him open up.

I enrolled him in pricey tutoring, specialty classes, horseback riding lessons, and elite summer camps.

Every day after school, I tutored him and worked out with him.

His grades jumped from the bottom of his class to consistently ranking among the top three in the grade.

My pre-marital savings flowed out like water, yet Heather's family never once asked how much a single lesson cost.

His grandmother only sneered, claiming I was putting on airs and tormenting her precious grandson with unnecessary pressure.

In the fourth year of our marriage, my health was fully restored.

The doctor confirmed everything was back to normal and that we could try for a healthy baby.

That evening, I cooked an elaborate feast and excitedly shared the wonderful news with Heather.

As I was carrying the final pot of boiling soup out of the kitchen, Toby deliberately steered his remote-control car straight into my path, tripping me.

I slipped on the scalding broth and crashed violently against the sharp edge of the dining table.

The brutal impact caused permanent trauma to my reproductive organs, and the doctor told me the chances of ever having biological children were virtually zero.

Ten-year-old Toby wailed hysterically, throwing himself into my arms and apologizing, claiming he hadn't seen me coming out of the kitchen.

Seeing his tear-streaked, terrified face, I believed him.

From then on, I had to accept the harsh reality.

I didn't obsess over it, comforting myself with the thought that Toby was already my son anyway.

Back then, he clung to me every day, sweet-talking me and calling me "Dad" nonstop.

Yet Rachel and his grandmother always made sure to casually bring up his real dad, Derek, whenever we were having the most fun.

They constantly spun tales about how much Derek had adored him as a baby.

Later, Derek used visitation rights as an excuse to take Toby to his place nearly every weekend.

Slowly but surely, Toby began to despise me.

By the time he entered middle school, that resentment had evolved into open hostility.