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Five years of silence had turned my marriage into a tomb. My husband, Ethan, a brilliant CEO, was a stranger. I decided to leave, taking our six-year-old son, Leo. We couldn't live like that anymore. But as we drove away, a blinding light erupted. Then, darkness. The 'accident' left Leo with one eye gone, and me, a kidney missing. Guilt consumed me; I blamed myself for leaving. Ethan, the 'devoted' husband, played his part on live TV, begging for 100 days to prove his love. Broken and weak, I believed him. So I agreed. Day ninety-nine arrived. I overheard Ethan's voice, casual and chilling, from his study. He was talking to Dr. Peterson, the surgeon. Not about a car crash, but about harvesting. My son's eye, my kidney – taken. For Chloe, his mistress, and her son, Liam. The 'accident' was deliberate, a monstrous organ farm. My world tilted, my trust shattered. The man who' d begged for my forgiveness had butchered us for his affair. He brought his new 'family' into our home, and when I reacted to their cruelty, his hand struck me. That brutal slap, Leo's horrified, awakened face – it ignited a cold, black fury. This was no longer about leaving.This was about retribution.And I knew exactly what I had to do.