Kidnappers abducted my son. My whole family was frantic, but I arrived late, taking my time. Seeing how relaxed I was, the kidnappers flew into a rage and demanded I trade my life for my son’s. Everyone urged me to risk everything for love, but I leisurely cracked sunflower seeds and pointed at my husband. “He’s the child’s father. His life is a better trade.” During the argument, my son really did fall off a cliff and die. I neither cried nor made a scene, and I even stopped my family from burying him. The story quickly became a national scandal. Everyone condemned me as an unfit mother and demanded I give up the company and pay for my sins with my life. Netizens dug up my background and called me a heartless rich woman, saying my son must have been kidnapped by my enemies because I’d done something wrong. Faced with everyone’s accusations, I joined the online fight myself: “Digging up my past is no great feat. If you’ve got what it takes, find out who the kidnappers are.”
