I Let Them Have the Poison

In my past life, my son Tony was in acute heart failure and desperately needed the only available biological valve. Yet, my husband, Richard, forced the hospital to give it to his first love's son, Harry, to treat a minor heart murmur.

I knelt before him, begging until my forehead was bloody and bruised, only to receive his cold, indifferent sneer.

"Vivian's son is sensitive, he cannot handle a fright. Can you stop being so malicious?"

Later, Tony died of cardiac arrest on the operating table. In my absolute despair, I set fire to our home, dragging them all to hell with me.

Reborn into this life, when Richard demanded the valve once again, I simply wiped my tears.

I smiled and handed him the surgical consent form. "Fine. Give it to him. I won't fight you for it."

But the moment he took the paper, Richard's hand began to shake.

"Gwen, although Harry only has a congenital defect, he has always been sensitive and afraid of pain," Richard's voice echoed in the sterile, white hallway of the hospital, carrying a familiar, cold arrogance.

"Tony's heart is failing, yes, but he has always been a resilient boy. Besides, his rejection rate is incredibly high. Even if we gave him this valve, his body might not accept it. It is better to wait for the next batch."

"As my wife, can you try to show some basic compassion? Do you really have to fight a single mother over her child's only lifeline?"

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway made my eyes burn.

I blinked, staring at the man standing in front of me, his expression twisted with impatience.

Richard.

My husband, the man I once loved more than life itself, and the man I ultimately grew to despise with every fiber of my being.

In his hand, he tightly gripped the surgical allocation slip.

That slip represented the only highly compatible bio-active valve in the state, the final hope to save our son Tony's life.

In our past life, at this exact door of the pediatric intensive care unit, I had clawed at him like a wild animal when he suggested giving the valve to Vivian's son.

I had wept, screaming that Tony had been confined to that freezing hospital bed for three months, that his heart could stop beating at any second.

But Richard had kicked me to the floor with utter disgust.

My head had slammed against the hard marble, blood blurring my vision.

He didn't even look back at me as he turned and handed the allocation slip to a weeping Vivian.

Looking down at me, he had said, "Gwen, the way you behave makes me sick. No wonder Tony is always so sickly under your care."

Ultimately, because he missed his critical surgical window, Tony's tiny body grew cold in my arms on a stormy night.

Before he drew his last breath, he clutched my finger and whispered, "Mom, it doesn't hurt. Please don't cry."

After my son's death, I lost my mind.

Richard claimed I was suffering from severe postpartum depression. To bury his own guilt, he committed me to a psychiatric hospital.

On the day of Tony's memorial, he took Vivian and Harry to Disneyland to celebrate Harry's recovery.

In that asylum, I found a box of matches and set the building on fire.

The flames painted the night sky red. They didn't kill that despicable couple, but they consumed me.

The phantom pain of my flesh burning still seemed to linger in the depths of my soul.

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to this very day.

Seeing my silence, Richard assumed I was preparing to throw another tantrum. His expression darkened, his voice growing sharper.

"Gwen, I am talking to you. Stop playing dead."

"Vivian is a single mother raising a child alone in this city. If anything happens to Harry, it will destroy her life."

"Besides, I was the one who pulled strings to get this valve. I have the right to decide who gets it."

Not far away, Vivian stood leaning against the wall, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown.

In her arms, Harry was playing a cartoon on an iPad at maximum volume, his cheeks flushed with healthy color. He looked nowhere near a state of critical illness.

Seeing me look over, Vivian instantly put on a panicked expression, tears flowing on command.

"Richard, Gwen, I am so sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have brought Harry to this hospital."

"If Gwen is unwilling, let it go. I will take Harry back and manage his condition with medication. At worst, he just won't be able to play sports."

As she spoke, her body began to slide weakly toward the floor.

Richard reacted instantly, catching her in his arms. He turned to glare at me. "Gwen! Will you only be satisfied when you have driven this poor mother and child to their graves?"

Looking at this performance, I found it incredibly absurd.

In my past life, I cared too much about Richard. I wanted so desperately to preserve my family.

That was why I fought so hard, why I dragged my dignity through the mud, begging him on my knees.

And what did I get?

I lost my son's only lifeline, and ultimately, I lost my son.

In this life, I would not make the same mistake.

I took a deep breath, forcing down the absolute hatred boiling in my chest.

Then, I looked up, offering Richard a remarkably gentle smile.

"Alright."

Richard froze.

His brow furrowed, the lecture he had prepared suddenly trapped in his throat.

"What did you say?"

I looked at him calmly, my voice softer than it had ever been. "I said, since Harry's condition is so delicate, let him have it."

"After all, a child's life is at stake. I wouldn't want to be malicious."

I pulled a pen from my bag and signed my name on the treatment waiver.

The tip of the pen slid across the paper, making a sharp scratching sound.

Richard took the signed waiver, a look of bewilderment crossing his face, as if he couldn't believe I had surrendered so easily.

"You are really okay with this?" he asked suspiciously.

I nodded, looking through the glass window at Tony, who lay in the ICU bed, hooked up to various tubes.

"Yes. I am okay with it."

"You were right. We shouldn't be selfish. Sometimes, we have to let things go."

The doubt in Richard's eyes vanished, replaced by the smug satisfaction of a man who had won.

"I am glad you finally see sense."

"I knew those tantrums of yours were just cries for attention. Deep down, you know how to behave."

He handed the waiver to Vivian, his voice dripping with tenderness. "Go register for the procedure, Vivian. Let's not delay Harry's surgery."

Vivian took the paper, a spark of triumph flashing in her eyes, though she still kept up her fragile act. "Richard, won't Gwen hold a grudge against me for this?"

"She won't."

Richard didn't even look at me as he wrapped his arm around Vivian's shoulders, leading her toward the administrative office.

"She is being sensible now. She finally understands what matters."

Their figures disappeared down the long hallway.

They looked exactly like a happy, devoted family of three.

The smile vanished from my face, replaced by an icy, absolute coldness.

I looked down at Tony's pale little face, gently running my fingers over his bruised hand, scarred from constant intravenous lines.

My tears fell silently onto the white sheets.

Tony, I am so sorry.

Mom is not giving up on you.

It is because Mom knows that this valve is actually a death sentence.

In my past life, after Harry received that valve, I uncovered the truth.

That specific batch of biological valves carried a severe genetic defect. Because of a data error during the cultivation process, the valves triggered an extremely violent autoimmune rejection once inside the human body.

After Harry received it, his heart murmur disappeared, but his kidneys and liver failed completely within six months.

And my Tony, given his incredibly weak state, would have died right on the operating table if we had used it.

So, Richard.

Since you love that child so much, I am more than happy to let you have this poison.

The moment Richard left, I slipped into the emergency stairwell and dialed a number I had kept hidden for years.

The phone rang three times before it was answered.

A deep, quiet voice came through the line, carrying a hint of disbelief and suppressed hope.

"Gwen?"

Hearing his voice, my throat tightened, and my tears nearly spilled over.

Austin.

He was a world-class pediatric cardiothoracic surgeon, my childhood friend, the boy next door who had protected me growing up.

In my past life, when Tony was in critical condition, I had wanted to beg him for help.

But Richard, driven by toxic jealousy, had spread rumors that Austin and I were having an affair. He threatened to cut off all funding for Tony's treatment if I ever contacted him.

For the sake of Tony's immediate bills, and to preserve my battered dignity, I had cut off all contact.

It was only after Tony died that Austin found out. He flew back from Switzerland immediately.

At the cemetery gates, his eyes were bloodshot as he grabbed my shoulders and yelled, "Gwen, why didn't you call me? Just one word from you, and I would have carved out my own heart to save Tony!"

In this life, I would never push away the one person who truly wanted to save my son.

"Austin."

I tried to keep my voice steady, though it trembled slightly.

"I remember you mentioned that your research center in Switzerland is running a clinical trial for pediatric stem-cell cardiac therapy."

Austin's tone instantly shifted to professional urgency. "Yes. But there are only three slots globally, and the screening process is extremely rigorous. Is Tony's condition worsening?"

"Yes," I replied, leaning against the cold concrete wall. "Our options here are exhausted. Richard gave his only matching valve to someone else. I want to bring Tony to Switzerland, to you."

The line went silent for a few seconds. Then, I heard the sound of something heavy falling, as if he had knocked his chair over as he stood up.

"Is Richard out of his mind? Tony is his own flesh and blood!"

"He lost his mind a long time ago," I said with a cold laugh. "Austin, I have made up my mind. I will do whatever it takes to save Tony. I will divorce him, I will leave with absolutely nothing."

"Alright."

Austin's voice was filled with an absolute, reassuring strength.

"Leave the clinical slot to me. Even if I have to pull every favor I have, I will secure it for Tony. Your job right now is to protect him and gather all his medical records."

"I will arrange a private medical charter to pick you both up. I should be there in twenty-four hours."

I looked at my watch. "Twenty-four hours. Okay. I will be waiting."

Hanging up the phone, I let out a long, slow breath.

One day.

If I could just get through this one day, I could take Tony and escape this hell.

As for Richard.

I looked out the window at the dark, storm-filled sky, a cruel smile touching my lips.

Our accounts are finally ready to be settled.

That evening, Richard returned to the hospital.

He seemed to be in an excellent mood, carrying a large, limited-edition Lego box in his hand.

"Harry's pre-op checks went perfectly today. The doctor says the success rate is very high."

He set the box on the table, glancing at Tony, who was still on oxygen.

"Tony isn't awake yet? This boy is just too weak, he doesn't take after me at all."

I was wiping Tony's brow with a damp cloth. My hand paused for a fraction of a second before I replied softly, "The doctor said he needs absolute quiet."

Richard frowned, clearly displeased by my cold reception.

"Gwen, I know you are still upset. But today, Harry's situation was simply more urgent. The doctor said the micro-procedure is much easier to recover from."

"Besides, I bought this for Tony. It is the Star Wars collector's set he has been asking for. I had someone import it from Europe."

His tone was entirely patronizing, as if I should be kneeling to thank him for his generosity.

I looked at the box.

It was indeed the Star Wars set.

But it was a highly complex model rated for ages fourteen and up.

Tony was only five years old. Because of his heart failure, his hands shook so badly he could barely hold a spoon, let alone assemble thousands of tiny plastic blocks.

I had explained this to Richard dozens of times.

But he never bothered to listen.

In his mind, he only remembered that Harry loved complex assembly toys because it made him look intelligent.

This toy had probably been bought in duplicate. One for Harry, and the spare tossed to my son.

I didn't expose him. I simply pushed the box to the corner of the table.

"Tony cannot play with this right now. Keep it."

Richard's expression immediately hardened.

"Gwen, don't be ungrateful. I went out of my way to buy this for him, and this is how you behave?"

"Are you still bitter because I gave the valve to Harry? Do you think I don't love Tony?"

"I told you, Harry's case was an exception! Besides, I am Tony's father. Even a beast wouldn't harm its own offspring. Do you honestly think I would hurt him?"

Father?

Hearing that word come out of his mouth was so nauseating it made my skin crawl.

In our past life, while Tony was in the emergency room being resuscitated, Richard was at the aquarium with Harry, watching the whales.

On the day Tony was cremated, he was hosting a celebration dinner for Harry's recovery.

He even allowed Harry to play with Tony's urn, knocking it to the floor.

When I screamed, he simply shrugged and said, "He is just a child, he didn't mean it. Don't be so dramatic."

That was his version of being a father.

I turned around, looking him dead in the eye, my gaze cutting like glass.

"Richard, do you truly love Tony?"

Richard flinched slightly under my stare. He quickly looked away, his voice rising to cover his guilt.

"Of course I do! If I don't love him, who do I love? I work myself to the bone every day to support this family, to pay for his treatments!"

"But look at you. Ever since Tony got sick, you have become completely unhinged. You are paranoid, suspicious, constantly complaining like a miserable shrew."

"If you had half of Vivian's grace and understanding, this home wouldn't be so cold."

Vivian, always Vivian.

In his world, Vivian was the golden standard of perfection.

She was gentle, elegant, and understanding, the eternal muse of his youth.

And I was simply the bitter, nagging woman who did nothing but ask for money.

I nodded, agreeing with him. "You are right. I am nothing like her."

"So from now on, I will learn from her."

"Whatever decisions you make, I will support them. I won't argue with you anymore."

Richard was stunned. He clearly hadn't expected such an easy submission.

He studied my face suspiciously, but finding no trace of sarcasm, he let out a sigh of relief. He reached out to drape his arm over my shoulder, a satisfied smile returning to his face.

"That is my girl. There is no reason for husband and wife to keep secrets."

"As long as you behave and stop making scenes, I will take good care of you both. Once Harry's surgery is successful, I will take us all on a vacation."

I subtly stepped back, avoiding his arm, and went back to packing my things.

"I am tired. You should go rest."

Richard's hand hovered in the air, before he pulled it back with an awkward chuckle.

"Alright. You should get some sleep too. I am going back to the office tonight to oversee a major project."

To the office?

He was going to the hospital to stay with Vivian and her son.

I didn't call him out. I simply gave a quiet nod.

"Okay. Drive safe."

It was perfect.

His absence made my plans much easier to execute.