At a charity gala, a huge decorative painting displayed beside the stage suddenly fell.
My husband abandoned me and pulled his newly hired PR manager tightly into his arms.
“Qingqing, thank goodness it didn’t hit you. I’d have been heartbroken.”
While I stood there stunned, my son hurried over to check on the woman in my husband’s arms. He didn’t even spare a glance for me, though I was injured.
Clutching my bleeding wound, I watched them from a distance. They looked like a happy family.
This time, my heart finally turned to ash.
I don’t want a husband like him anymore. I don’t want my son either.
