The Angel He Burned
To protect my son, I became a shield. I took a dozen cuts for him before collapsing into a spreading pool of my own blood.
My husband, Landon, was a man who could move mountains. He had the attacker in custody and a team of the best surgeons in the state assembled before the ambulance even reached the hospital.
As they wheeled me into the OR, I grabbed his sleeve, my voice a ragged whisper. “Leo? Is Leo okay?”
His eyes, rimmed with a terrible red, met mine. “He lost too much blood, Stella. He was gone before they got here.”
The world dissolved into blackness. I fainted before I could tell them, before I could remember to say the words that were always my responsibility: I’m immune to most anesthetics.
I drifted back into a hazy, muted consciousness to the sound of Landon’s voice, low and cold, talking to one of the surgeons.
“Mr. Hayes, the boy could have been saved. We had a window. Why did you tell us to stand down? That was your son. He was only three.”
“I never intended for him to live,” Landon said, his voice devoid of any emotion I recognized. “His birth was a mistake. Then he had the audacity to ask me for a birthday present. What’s next? A claim on the company?”
He continued, his tone chillingly reasonable. “My son with Vanessa is about to turn eighteen. I promised her the company as his gift. I won’t have anyone competing for it.”
My marriage wasn't a love story. It was a lie. It was my own private hell.
Fine, I thought through a fog of pain and betrayal. You can have it all.
1
The surgeon, his voice laced with pity, glanced at the shredded ruin of my abdomen. “I’ve examined her. Given the severity of the trauma, it’s a miracle her uterus is intact. She might have a chance to be a mother again someday.”
“Who gave you permission to save it?” Landon’s voice was sharp, a whip crack in the sterile room. “Remove it. I want it gone. I want to make sure she can never have another child.”
The doctor’s shock was audible. “Mr. Hayes, you’re handing the company over in three days. Another child years from now wouldn’t be a threat. The woman just lost her son. You want me to take her womb, too? Why be so cruel?”
I felt the phantom caress of Landon’s hand on my cheek, though he stood across the room. His next words were the most brutal of all. “Letting her have that bastard was the biggest mistake of my life. I swore to Vanessa that no one would ever threaten our son’s inheritance. Even after she married someone else, it was my duty to protect them, to eliminate any loose ends.”
A knock at the operating room door. A man’s slick, careless voice sliced through the quiet.
“Mr. Hayes, thanks for faking that psych evaluation for me. Got me off scot-free. I took care of the little brat for you, so about the payment you promised…”
“Five million will be wired to your account. Take the money and get out of New York. Don’t ever let me see you near Stella again.”
“Alright, get on with the surgery. I’ve got to pick up the gift I ordered for Harrison. Oh, and give her a heavy dose of anesthesia. I don’t want Stella to be in any pain.”
The footsteps faded. I clamped my eyes shut so hard I felt a molar crack in my jaw, a dam against the tears that threatened to betray me.
He wasn’t a madman. He was a hitman.
A butcher hired by my husband to secure a future for the woman he truly loved.
My little Leo. Only three years old. Murdered on his birthday by his own father’s design, for a crime he didn’t even know how to commit.
My body doesn't respond to the drugs. I was awake for every cold, metallic scrape inside of me, every pull and tear as they carved out the very core of my womanhood.
The pain was a living thing. It finally consumed me, and I fell back into darkness.
When I opened my eyes again, Landon was there, his own eyes swollen and red, his voice thick with a perfect imitation of heartbreak.
“Stella, you’re awake. Does it hurt?” He clutched my hand. “I’ve been waiting right outside. You have no idea how scared I was. Losing Leo is the worst pain of my life… if I lost you, too, I wouldn’t want to live.”
He stroked my hair, his performance flawless. “Stella, the doctor said… the damage was too severe. Your uterus… you won’t be able to have children again. But don’t worry. I’ll take care of you for the rest of our lives. We’ll be okay, just the two of us.”
I looked down at my bandaged stomach. The wound was neatly stitched, a clean line on the surface. But underneath, there was only a hollow emptiness that echoed with a finality I could barely comprehend. I had lost the right to be a mother forever.
“Leo?” I asked, my voice flat.
Landon’s face crumpled with well-rehearsed guilt. “He’s at the funeral home. The cremation… the funeral is tomorrow. Stella, I’m so sorry. I failed him. I failed to protect our boy.”
A fresh wave of agony washed over me, but I didn’t call him on his lies. My gaze fell to the bedside table. In a small, iconic blue box sat a platinum locket.
“Landon,” I said, my voice thin. “Today is Leo’s birthday. We never got him a gift. Let this locket be buried with him. So he might have a long and peaceful life in the next world. Please?”
A flicker of annoyance crossed his face before being replaced by that gentle, practiced sympathy. “Stella, darling, this is for a friend. He asked me to pick it up for his son. We can’t just take it.” He patted my hand. “Besides, this is for the living. It would just make Leo sad. And honestly, the material is nothing special. It’s not good enough for our son. I’ve already arranged for the finest burial offerings to be sent to the funeral home. He’ll have everything he needs.”
I said nothing. The cold in my chest was absolute.
After years as a stay-at-home mother, Landon had forgotten who I was before him. He’d forgotten that I was once one of the sharpest jewelry appraisers in the city.
The locket was platinum, the craftsmanship exquisite, from a heritage brand whose custom pieces started in the six figures. Engraved on the back were the words, ‘Safe and Sound, Forever and Always.’ An inscription overflowing with a parent’s boundless love.
For two months, I had seen him holed up in his study, sketching designs, obsessing over every detail. I thought it was for Leo.
I was wrong. In his heart, it was my son and I who were never good enough.
At my insistence, Landon arranged for my discharge. At home, he was the perfect, doting husband. He waved away the housekeeper, insisting on bathing me himself, carefully washing my hair, his touch gentle as he avoided the wound on my belly. He dried my hair with the tenderness of a lover.
I used to find such comfort in his gentleness. Now, staring at the ugly, stitched line on my skin, the memory of Leo’s stolen life was a wall of ice between us. His touch was a violation.
Late that night, while he slept, I slipped into his study. I opened his laptop and logged into his cloud drive.
The password was Vanessa’s birthday.
Inside were tens of thousands of photos and videos. A meticulously curated archive of another life. Vanessa’s pregnancy, the birth of their son, every milestone, every birthday, every family vacation. There was also a signed stock transfer agreement, ready to be executed.
For fifteen years, Landon had spent months "on business trips," "expanding the market." In reality, he was playing house with his real family.
And I, the stupid, trusting wife, had never once suspected.
His messenger app was still open on the desktop. The top chat, pinned and precious, was a group called “Our Little Family.” It was a dagger in my eye.
For eighteen years, he had showered Vanessa and their son with gifts I couldn't even fathom.
“Landon, Harrison just turned one, what’s he going to do with a Maserati? You spoil him! P.S. I adore the sapphire necklace. Mwah!”
“Landon, my love, Harrison is three today! The private island you bought him is breathtaking. Your flight gets in this afternoon, right? He can’t wait to see his daddy.”
This was a level of devotion Leo and I had never known.
I gave up a brilliant career to marry Landon at twenty, to be the woman behind the man. I supported him through every crisis, helped him build his empire from the ground up. The stress took a toll on my body, and for years, I couldn’t conceive. He was always so calm about it, so reassuring. I thought it was because he didn’t want to pressure me. I was grateful for his patience.
In our fifteenth year of marriage, I finally got pregnant. Landon’s reaction wasn’t the joy I had expected, just a polite, symbolic smile.
Now, seeing the photos of him kissing Vanessa’s swollen belly, his face alight with pure ecstasy, I understood. He already had a child.
To him, my Leo was an inconvenience. An appendix that needed to be cut out before it burst and ruined everything.
No wonder Landon was always “out of the country for work” on Leo’s birthday. Harrison’s birthday was three days later. He needed time to prepare, to make sure his real family never felt anything less than cherished.
My heart felt like a dead thing in my chest. I closed the laptop and called my best friend in Paris.
“Chloe? I’m ready to take that job. I’ll be your head appraiser. I’ll see you in three days.”
Then, I asked her for a few other, more complicated favors.
After the call, I went to Leo’s room. It was exactly as he’d left it. His pillow still smelled of that sweet, milky scent unique to a small child. But my baby would never sleep here again.
Under his pillow, I found a small glass jar, a “wish bottle.” Inside was a note, written in his teacher’s careful script, transcribing his words.
“My teacher says big boys have to be brave, so this year I finally got the courage to ask Daddy for a birthday present. But I didn’t even finish talking before he got mad and walked away.”
“I just wanted to ask if Daddy could spend one hour with me on my birthday. Thirty minutes would be okay, too. That would make me so, so happy.”
The tears I’d been holding back finally broke free, hot and silent. This, Landon? This was the monumental ambition you were so terrified of?
I printed the divorce papers, then spent the rest of the night in Leo’s bed, clutching his blanket, inhaling his fading scent, and crying until I had nothing left.
The next morning, Landon, a man obsessed with cleanliness, personally cleaned the weeping wound on my stomach and changed my dressing, his touch meticulous. The housekeeper watched with an envious sigh. I felt nothing but a vast, cold emptiness.
He saw my swollen, red-rimmed eyes and his face filled with concern.
“Stella, I know you miss him. I miss him more than you can imagine. But you have to take care of yourself. I’ve already lost my beloved son. I can’t lose you, too. Why don’t you stay home and rest today? I’ll handle the funeral.”
Handle it? The way you handled his life? The thought was a bitter acid in my throat.
“No,” I said, my voice a dead monotone. “I have to be there. I have to see him off.”
When we arrived at the cemetery, I saw them immediately. Vanessa and a teenage boy were flanking Landon’s mother, laughing and chatting, making the old woman beam with delight.
It was a funeral. Everyone else was in black.
Vanessa was in a fire-engine red designer dress. The boy, her son, wore a matching blazer, just as loud, just as inappropriate.
Yet my mother-in-law seemed not to notice, or not to care. She held their hands, her eyes filled with a love she had never once shown me. She had one of her staff hold an umbrella over them, shielding them from the sun, as if they were the true daughter-in-law and grandchild.
When Vanessa saw me, a smug smile played on her lips. “Oh, Eleanor, I’m not hot,” she said, her voice carrying across the lawn. “Stella’s here. Why don’t you give the umbrella to her? After all, she’s not like me. She’s grieving. And injured. She needs the special treatment, you know.”
At her words, my mother-in-law shot me a look of pure disgust. “What are you crying about? It was just one ungrateful brat. Who are you putting on this pathetic show for? Have you no sense of decency? No respect for the Hayes family name?”
She gestured toward Vanessa and the boy. “Look at them. They have more sense than you. They flew in immediately because they were worried about me. And Harrison brought me this beautiful jade bracelet. You could learn a thing or two from them, you worthless creature.”
She’d always hated me. Said I wasn’t good enough for her son. For fifteen years, she called me a barren hen who couldn’t lay an egg. When Leo was born, she despised him, too, calling him a traitor for being so attached to me.
Landon used to defend me. Now, his eyes were locked on Vanessa, his expression so full of adoration it was as if he were gazing at a holy relic.
Vanessa shot me a triumphant, silent smirk before turning back to his mother. “Eleanor, darling, you mustn’t get upset. It’s bad for your heart. If you’ll have him, Harrison would be honored to be your grandson from now on.”
My mother-in-law was overjoyed, praising her for being so thoughtful.
Vanessa then glided over to me, the boy in tow. “It’s been a while, Stella,” she purred. “So sorry about our clothes. We just got off a flight from Europe and rushed right over. You’re so understanding, I knew you wouldn’t mind. Right?”
She gestured to the boy. “Oh, and this is my son, Harrison Hayes.”
He had Landon’s jawline, Landon’s eyes. He gave me a contemptuous once-over. “Wow, you’re ugly,” he said with the casual cruelty of the terminally spoiled.
Then he turned to Landon and held out his hand. “Dad, you said you had presents for us when we got back. My eighteenth birthday is in two days. Last year you only got me ninety-nine things. This year, I want a hundred.”
Landon didn’t even flinch at the insult to my face. He just ruffled the boy’s hair with a look of helpless indulgence. “I know, I know.”
He took out the platinum locket and fastened it around Harrison’s neck, his expression tender, paternal.
As if that wasn’t enough, he snapped his fingers. From behind the chapel, a procession of a dozen brightly colored supercars roared to life and drove onto the lawn.
“There. I know you like bright colors. They’re all yours.”
Vanessa wrinkled her nose and looped her arm through Landon’s. “Landon, what about me? You can’t just spoil our son.”
He tweaked her nose playfully. “Of course not.”
He snapped his fingers again. From each car, two attendants emerged, carrying velvet trays laden with jewelry. Dozens of sets—necklaces, earrings, bracelets—in every style and stone imaginable. Their only commonality was their astronomical price. One set, I recognized, had once belonged to a Qing dynasty empress.
Vanessa squealed and kissed his cheek, her girlish act perfected over years of practice. “Wow! Isn’t this all from the royal auction in Monaco last week? The cheapest piece was over a million dollars! You bought it all for me? Oh, Landon, you’re the best. But won’t Stella be upset that you spent so much?”
They had turned my son’s funeral into a vulgar showcase of cars and jewels.
And me? In my old, ill-fitting black suit, no makeup, my eyes swollen to slits, I was a pathetic caricature of a grieving mother. Next to the radiant, exquisitely dressed Vanessa, I was a joke. A frumpy, tragic yellow-faced wife.
In three years of life, all the gifts Landon had ever given Leo didn't add up to the price of one of Harrison’s new tires.
It was laughable. It was all so hideously laughable.
Landon finally seemed to remember I was there. He cleared his throat, a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. “Stella, don’t get the wrong idea. Vanessa and Harrison, they’re just used to a different… etiquette… from living abroad.”
“And you heard Mom. She’s accepted Harrison as her grandson, so it’s only natural he calls me Dad. It’s his birthday soon, I just wanted to… show my appreciation. And the locket was…”
He never finished. Vanessa swayed, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Landon, I feel dizzy. I think it’s heatstroke.”
He dropped my arm instantly and scooped her into his. “What? How? I built you that villa in the mountains specifically to avoid the heat. You should have stayed there instead of coming to this… dreary place. Come on, I’ll take you somewhere to rest.”
And just like that, before Leo’s ashes were even interred, he carried her away.
I stood there, enduring the whispers and stares, and picked up my son’s small, heavy urn myself.
It’s okay, my love. Daddy doesn’t love you, but Mommy does.
But before I could place the urn in the niche, Harrison slammed into me, knocking it from my hands. It shattered on the stone path. Leo’s ashes, my son, scattered across the ground like gray dust.
“Watch where you’re going, lady!” he sneered, not a hint of remorse in his voice. “Are you blind? My dad bought me this suit. It’s custom. You think you can afford to replace it if you get that dead kid’s dust on it? Disgusting.”
He smirked and pulled out a plastic water bottle filled with cigarette butts. “Here,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t say I never did anything for you. You can put your son’s ashes in this.”
Forgetting him, I turned to my mother-in-law, my eyes pleading with her to help me, to get another urn, to protect what was left of Leo.
She just scowled. “What are you looking at me for? If you weren’t so useless, the box wouldn’t have broken. The water bottle is fine. I’m not spending another dime on that little traitor. Now hurry up and bury it. I have a mahjong game to get to.”
Harrison kicked me aside. He had one of the groundskeepers sweep Leo’s ashes into the filthy bottle and toss it into the burial niche before sealing it shut.
My fists clenched so tight my nails drew blood. How could they? How could they do this to my son?
I turned, blind with rage, to find Landon. I found him in the small chapel, in front of the memorial display for Leo. He and Vanessa were tangled together, their clothes in disarray.
“Landon,” she was whispering, her voice husky. “Harrison is growing up. He gets lonely. I want to have another baby for you.”
Landon hesitated. “Vanessa, all these years, you’ve had to hide Harrison away so your husband wouldn’t find out. I’ve already made you suffer so much, being separated like that. I can’t put you through it again. And besides… this is Leo’s memorial. We can’t…”
Her hand slid down his chest, her voice dropping to a seductive purr. “For you, Landon, I would suffer anything. And he’s never home. He’ll never know.” She pressed against him. “I’ve never done it in a chapel before. Don’t you want to try? You look so tired. Let me take good care of you…”
A vein pulsed in Landon’s temple. He surrendered, his mouth crushing down on hers.
The scene became more and more obscene. My hands trembling, I raised my phone and recorded everything. Then I turned and fled, collapsing in front of Leo’s desecrated grave.
A violent shudder wracked my body. Landon, your son’s photograph is hanging right above your head. How dare you?
Everyone was gone. No one cared about me or my son.
I lit the ceremonial money in a small brazier, the tears I thought I’d run out of streaming down my face again. My marriage wasn’t a tragedy. It was a farce.
The brazier was suddenly kicked over. Sparks flew, searing my hand.
Vanessa stood there, smiling like a predator.
“Seeing Landon and me together in front of your son’s memorial, Stella? Was it exciting? You can burn all the paper money you want. Your short-lived little ghost isn’t coming back.”
Her voice was venomous. “If you’d remained barren, I wouldn’t have bothered with you. But you dared to have a child with Landon. No one takes a single penny that belongs to my son.”
“The Hayes fortune is ours. Landon’s heart is mine. He was willing to have your son killed just to give me peace of mind. To be such a failure as a woman… it’s pathetic. If I were you, I’d throw myself off a cliff.”
That was it. The final straw. I rose, my hand raised to strike her, but before I could move, she threw herself backward, tumbling down the short flight of stone steps.
Before I could process what had happened, a powerful hand shoved me to the ground. Landon caught Vanessa, cradling her protectively.
He looked up at me, his face contorted with rage. “Stella, are you insane?! How dare you touch her?!”
Before I could speak, Vanessa sobbed into his chest. “Landon, I just wanted to comfort her. But she accused me of wearing red just to spite her. She said she was going to push me down the stairs to kill me, to make me pay for Leo’s death. She said she was going to hire a psychic to turn Leo’s ghost into a demon to haunt me.”
Her wails grew louder. “I was so sad about Leo, too! I came straight from the airport! I was just worried, I didn’t think about my clothes! Landon, you know how sensitive I am… I’m so scared…”
Landon’s face hardened. He glared at me. “It was your bad luck that you ran into a maniac, and you dragged Leo down with you! Vanessa came here out of the goodness of her heart to comfort you, and this is how you repay her? You have no gratitude!”
He was shouting now. “So what if she wore red? She told you it wasn’t intentional! Maybe Leo liked bright colors! Why do you have to be so petty and cruel?”
“And now you’re using your dead son to curse her? He’s not even at peace, and you’re using him like this? What kind of heartless mother are you?!”
I dragged Leo down with me? I’m petty? I’m heartless?
Tears of rage and disbelief streamed down my face. I pointed a shaking finger at Leo’s tombstone. “Landon! You think I’m heartless? Can you say you have a clear conscience?!” I screamed. “I dare you! I dare you to stand in front of our son’s grave and tell him why he died! Tell him what kind of surgery you ordered the doctors to perform on his mother!”
Landon frowned. “What are you yelling about? He died because you failed to protect him. It’s that simple.”
“As for the surgery, should I not have asked the doctors to save your life? Is that what you wanted? Stella, I think you’re losing your mind. Stop this hysterical act and apologize to Vanessa right now!”
Vanessa tightened her arms around his neck, her voice a weak whisper. “It’s alright, Landon. Even though she tried to hurt me… she did just lose a child. Let’s be the bigger people. My ankle… I think I twisted it when I fell. It hurts so much. Can you take me to the hospital?”
Landon gave me one last look of profound disappointment, then turned and carried her away without another word.
As they left, Vanessa looked over his shoulder at me. Her lips formed a single, silent word.
Loser.
Watching them go, I knew. Landon and I were finished. Utterly and completely.
I bought a new urn. I paid the groundskeeper to open the niche, to carefully gather my son’s ashes from the dirt and filth. I held him close and walked away.
My Leo didn’t deserve such a pathetic funeral.
And he certainly didn’t need such a heartless father.
Back at the house, I gave the housekeeper an extended vacation. That evening, Landon called.
“Stella, are you home? Don’t worry, Vanessa’s ankle is fine, just a sprain. Look, I was out of line today. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that when you’re grieving. I didn’t mean it.”
His voice was a smooth balm of reason. “But those stairs are so steep. If she had really fallen, if something had happened to her… what would Harrison do? We’ve lost our child. I just… I couldn’t bear to see him lose his mother, too.”
“He’s my godson, after all. And Vanessa and I are old friends. It’s only right that I look after them. You shouldn’t read too much into it.”
“I know,” I said softly. “It’s okay. You take care of them.”
“That’s my girl. So understanding,” he said, relieved. “Listen, didn’t Leo always want to see the ocean? I’ve booked tickets. The day after tomorrow, we’ll go. Get away from all this. Even though he’s gone, we should still fulfill his wish for him. Wait for me. I’ll come home and get you.”
All night, my phone buzzed with notifications from Vanessa.
To appease her, and to delight Harrison, Landon had chartered a private jet. They were on their way to Las Vegas for a shopping spree.
My Leo couldn’t get his father to take him to the beach once in three years.
A final message from her popped up. A picture of them on the jet, champagne glasses raised. The caption: How can you even compete, Stella?
She was right. I couldn’t. So I wouldn’t.
The next day, Landon was still gone. The photos and videos from Vanessa became a deluge. Shopping sprees, high-stakes poker games, even explicit clips of her and Landon in their hotel suite.
I didn’t reply. I just packed. Everything that belonged to me, everything that had belonged to Leo, I boxed up and sent to charity.
On the afternoon of the third day, Landon finally remembered me.
Stella, sorry, something came up at the office. My assistant will pick you up and take you to the airport. I’m on my way now.
He didn’t know that one minute earlier, Vanessa had sent me another video.
It was Harrison’s eighteenth birthday. Landon had rented out the most opulent ballroom in Vegas for his party. In the video, he was fastening a necklace around Vanessa’s neck—the centerpiece a pink diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg. He leaned in and kissed her forehead.
“Vanessa,” he said, his voice thick with emotion for the camera, “thank you for giving me such a wonderful son. You are the hero of our family.”
I didn’t reply. I blocked both of their numbers. I placed the signed divorce papers and a small USB drive into a manila envelope and had it messengered to the hotel in Las Vegas.
I left the little slip of paper with Leo’s birthday wish on the dining room table. Then I picked up my son’s urn, took one last look at the house I had lived in for fifteen years, and walked out the door.
I was going to the airport.
Goodbye, Landon.
At the hotel, Landon had just announced his intention to make Harrison his sole heir. He was about to sign the official stock transfer agreement.
Suddenly, his assistant burst into the ballroom, his face pale, clutching a manila envelope. He rushed to Landon’s side, his voice a panicked, trembling whisper.
“Mr. Hayes… it’s terrible. Mrs. Hayes… she was on a flight to Europe. The flight… it’s gone down over the Atlantic.”
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