He Murdered Our Son, I Faked My Death

stant, taking my five-year-old son, Le

, rushed into surgery, m

c immunity to anesth

eard ev

the doctor, "Remove her uterus. Make s

a phon

," he muttered. "Pa

accident. He

me barren to clear obstacles for his other family –

nt, every memory,

reduced to an inconv

ret family, and his mother cele

icked Leo's scattered ashes, sneerin

ty turned my raw grief into

me broken, un

my feigned unconsciousness, a

but my meticulous just