Chapter 2Killed by My Own Son, I Get a Second Chance

My husband's call came an hour later.

The second I answered, he roared, "Sarah, what the hell is this about you kicking Kevin out of the house?!"

"He's just a kid! So he wants to play some games, big deal! Did you have to make such a scene? Do you have any idea how hard I work, busting my ass day and night to support you, him, and that... other kid? And you're still not satisfied! Can't I even have peace of mind on a business trip?"

I held the phone away from my ear, interrupting his tirade coldly, "If you're on a business trip, then focus on your work. When you get back, we need to settle things between us."

The yelling continued on the other end, but I had already hung up.

I used to have a steady career. He was the one who sweet-talked me into quitting, saying he'd handle the finances, and I should focus on the home.

My in-laws supposedly came to help with the kids, but really, they just wanted me to wait on them hand and foot. On top of raising the children, I had to care for them too. I was exhausted every single day.

When we disagreed on how to raise Kevin, their boundless spoiling drained me completely.

Later, Mark convinced me to have a second child, promising that his parents would take over childcare afterward, freeing me up to go back to work.

But after Lily was born, my in-laws changed their tune right outside the delivery room, calling her a "money pit" and saying the Jones family didn't want a girl.

From then on, I raised two children alone. Going back to work became a distant dream.

My life revolved around my husband and kids. Going out meant school runs and grocery shopping. Over time, I stopped bothering with makeup or dressing up.

Eventually, I became the "old hag" my husband complained about, and my son picked up the term, using it too.

Not long after I hung up, I got a call from the neighborhood security.

My son, Kevin, had gotten into a fight with another boy in the community park's fitness area. He started it.

As soon as I arrived, the other boy's parent started yelling.

"How do you raise your kid? He's like some rabid animal, attacking people for no reason! My son didn't even look at him, and yours just punched him! You think you can just bully people?"

"Yeah, grandson! Let me see him again, I'll beat the crap out of him!" my son snarled from the side.

The neighbor was furious. "We're calling the police! No settling this privately!"

I bowed my head, apologized profusely, and promised to pay double for all medical expenses before they finally, reluctantly, let it go.

Walking away from the security office, my son sneered at me, "Wimp. So what if we have to pay? Dad's loaded. Like we can't afford it. Should've beaten him harder!"

"That's disgraceful! Go home, now!" I yelled at him.

He froze.

Then he gave me a hard shove and stomped off towards home.

Back inside, Kevin sprawled on the sofa and ordered me around, "I'm hungry. Go buy me Popeyes."

Looking at his arrogant face, treating me like his servant, I wanted to laugh bitterly.

In my past life, he was always this defiant. I tried to reach him with love, gave in to his every demand, which only made him think I was afraid of his father and grandparents yelling at me.

Now, it was clear. This child was beyond saving.

"I don't have any money. Ask your father."

First, I didn't approve of him constantly eating fried chicken, soda, and burgers.

Second, his attitude towards me was truly chilling.

Kevin glared at me. "Dad gives you money for expenses! Go buy it!"

Just then, the doorbell rang. It was my best friend, Brenda.

She saw us staring each other down and looked surprised. "What's wrong? Look how upset Kevin is."

"I want Popeyes, and the old hag won't buy it for me!"

Brenda immediately played peacemaker, pulling Kevin onto the sofa, cooing softly, "If Mommy won't buy it, Auntie Brenda will."

With that, Brenda took out her phone, handed it to Kevin, and told him to order whatever he wanted.

As Kevin ordered, he shot me a warning glare, daring me to object.

He'd been overweight for two years already. The doctor said absolutely no fried foods, especially chicken and soda. I tried to enforce it strictly every day, but his father, grandparents, and even Brenda constantly snuck him extra treats.

Two years of trying to lose weight, and he only got fatter.

In stark contrast to Kevin's selfish rebellion, my daughter Lily was a true sweetheart, well-behaved and adorable.

I decided to ignore my son. I went with Lily to her room, helped her set up her drawing supplies, and while she was busy drawing, I went to the kitchen to start dinner.

Kevin was gorging himself in the living room, practically draped over Brenda, praising her effusively.

Then I heard him say, "Auntie Brenda, you should be my mom instead. I can't stand that old hag anymore, she ruins everything!"

Brenda giggled, covering her mouth. "What nonsense are you talking!"

"It's true! Auntie Brenda, please be my mom."

The spatula in my hand suddenly felt heavy, slipping slightly. A deep chill spread through my heart.

For this marriage, for this son, I had done more than enough. Enough was enough.