He Had Billions, But He Let Our Son Die

Ethan Fletcher, who was worth hundreds of millions of dollars, gave ten million to the female college student he had been sponsoring for two years to fund her art graduation exhibit—but refused to spend even twenty thousand on our son’s medical treatment.

After my son died of severe diarrhea and dehydration in front of me, I was devastated. I handed Ethan a divorce agreement.

When he saw the death certificate attached, he actually smiled.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t think diarrhea could kill someone."

"I know you’re sad, but it’s okay. Lila’s giving birth in three days."

"She’s understanding and grateful. We’ve already agreed—the baby will be raised by you. You can stay Mrs. Fletcher, but on one condition: Lila must be allowed to visit often."

"No need," I smiled faintly. "I just want a divorce."

——

When Ethan refused to help financially, I sold the custom engagement ring he once spent a fortune on—for next to nothing.

I rushed back to the hospital with the money. Down the long hallway, I heard the sharp, rhythmic beeping of a machine. Then a few seconds later, silence fell—as if the world had been muted.

"I’m sorry, Ms. Carter. I’m sorry for your loss..."

"In your son’s case, if the medical fees had been paid a few days earlier, he might’ve been saved."

"Hospital policy is strict. Without payment from the patient or their guardian, we’re not permitted to administer treatment. We did everything we could. I’m truly sorry for your loss..."

I tried to speak, but it felt like a razor blade wrapped in cotton was lodged in my throat—burning and sharp. No words came.

Dragging my numb legs toward the bed, I couldn’t bear to face my son’s lifeless body.

That morning, he had smiled at me from that very bed. He’d called me “Mom.”

The hospital TV, mounted to the sterile white wall, flickered briefly, then resumed its signal.

Ethan’s face appeared on the screen.

He smiled warmly—a man the public believed was always cold and distant—standing behind the sponsored student, greeting guests at her gallery opening.

Some onlookers whispered, not even avoiding the livestreaming bloggers:

"With my years of experience, I’d say Mr. Fletcher and our young art prodigy are more than just sponsor and artist."

"Come on, come on—spill it. Are you two a thing?"

Blushing, Lila looked away, casting affectionate and shy glances at Ethan.

He didn’t deny anything. The smile tugging at his lips said more than enough.

"But isn’t Mr. Fletcher married? He has a fiveyearold son. Could it be that he and his wife are divorced and just haven’t announced it yet?"

Awkward silence fell over the room. The one who asked the question melted into the crowd.

In front of the cameras, Lila’s eyes shimmered as she looked up at Ethan.

"Master, why didn’t Madam come to the exhibition? Is she still upset about the last auction?"

"Should I visit her and apologize again?"

Ethan answered without hesitation.

"No need."

"She’s gotten too sensitive. A set of jewelry is just that—jewelry. If she’s going to throw a fit over that and fight with you, she doesn’t deserve another cent. I won’t let you suffer another insult for her."

"It frustrates me to see her take it out on you."

His protective tone only confirmed for the public that our marriage had quietly ended—and made it seem like I was the one to blame for ruining it.

"Mrs. Fletcher must be a very calculating person. It must be exhausting to get along with someone like that. No wonder Mr. Fletcher has moved on."

"Let’s put that aside—don’t they have a child together? If they divorce, what happens to the child? If Mr. Fletcher and Lila keep progressing like this, they’ll definitely get married. Being a stepmother in a wealthy family isn’t easy."

My heart felt like it had been dropped into a frying pan and tossed again and again. I couldn’t tell if the pain came more from sadness or from rage.

The hospital room was freezing. Cold air surged through the vents and pierced into my bones. I shivered and turned toward the family next to us.

"Please raise the temperature a little. My son has more than just diarrhea. He can’t take the cold."

Time passed, but the chill in the air remained. I raised my head in frustration—only to meet the nurse’s horrified eyes.

"Ms. Carter, families aren’t allowed to stay in the morgue for more than fifteen minutes. You’ve been here half the afternoon. You need to go. The director has been asking for the death certificate to be signed. And where’s the boy’s father? He should at least show up now that his son is gone. Please, contact him."

My mind blanked. I stumbled outside.

The paperwork was done in under two hours.

Shivering in the cold wind outside, I dialed the funeral home with a shaking hand.

Then I called Ethan more than thirty times. Every call went unanswered.

Leaning against the tiled wall, I laughed at myself.

Before the end of the workday, the funeral staff arrived to collect my son. I didn’t know how many times I broke down crying during the process.

At the funeral home, the staff placed my son in the cold chamber, then gently suggested I return home and bring his favorite clothes to dress him.

He should go clean.

My son had been just like Ethan—he hated being dirty.

"After the deceased arrives at the funeral home, cremation is typically scheduled within seventytwo hours. But if the family requests it, we can delay to three, five, or seven days. Would you like to delay it?"

I touched my son’s cold, lifeless face.

"Three days."

It was already late when I returned home in a daze.

Ethan’s smile faded the moment he saw me.

"Why are you back so late? Is Charlie feeling better? Lila heard he had diarrhea and was so worried—she even had me bring two boxes of antidiarrhea medicine."

I stepped away from the box and saw the expiration date.

I smiled coldly, tears spilling again.

"Expired meds? Who exactly is she trying to kill?"

Ethan’s face froze. He turned the box away to hide the date, then frowned.

"Lila must’ve made a mistake. Don’t be so harsh. Pregnant women avoid medicine, you know that. She’s just a college student—she doesn’t pay attention to those things."

"And why didn’t you show up at Lila’s exhibition today? I told you days ago how important it was and you just had to create drama today."

He scolded me, as if defending Lila came naturally now—never mind that my eyes were still red.

"Do you even remember why you started sponsoring Lila in the first place?"

Ethan froze. The words died in his throat.

"Forgot, did you?"

"Then do you remember when things started falling apart between you and her?"

I looked at him calmly. "Do you remember what you said to me when I confronted you after your disgusting mistake that night?"

The living room went silent. The faint scent of vetiver in the air dragged both of us back in time.

Lila was a college student Ethan met on a business trip to a rural town two years ago. Her parents were trying to marry her off to the village chief’s son and she cried all the way to the university, begging someone to help. The desperation in her eyes had left a mark on Ethan.

So the billionaire president brought her back, placed her in a toptier university near our home, bought her a house, gave her a luxury car and handed her a black card for pocket money.

Gradually, Ethan and Lila grew closer and closer—while he drifted further from me and even from our son.

Then one night, after working late, Ethan returned to the wrong house.

When I found out, he dropped to his knees and kept yanking my hand to slap him.

"I’m sorry, Annelise. Blame me. I drank too much that night. I forced her..."

"I swear it was just that once. I won’t see her again. When she graduates, I’ll stop funding her."

Then Lila got pregnant.

I smirked. "Ethan, tell me—if you only slept with her once a year ago, how is she eight months pregnant now?"

"Did medicine advance without me knowing? Can ovulation be delayed by two to four months now?"

"Enough!"

Ethan’s face twisted with anger.

"I’ll explain everything later."

"Where’s Charlie? Why didn’t you bring him back? It’s just diarrhea. Did he really need to stay in the hospital this long?"

The mention of my son sent my heart into a freefall.

I took the folded death certificate and divorce agreement from my bag, dropped onto the foyer bench, completely drained.

"He’s being cremated in three days."

"Take some time off to come with me—and finalize the divorce."

Ethan took the papers and stared at me.

Then, to my disbelief, he actually smiled.

"What timing."

He let the documents slip from his hands. They fluttered to the floor.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t expect diarrhea to be fatal."

"I know you’re sad, but Lila is giving birth in three days."

"She’s thoughtful and grateful. We’ve agreed she’ll hand the baby over to you to raise. You can continue as Mrs. Fletcher. There’s just one condition: Lila wants to visit the child often."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"Ethan Fletcher! Are you even human?!"

My voice rose so loud that it startled Lila awake from the bedroom.

Ethan frowned, annoyed.

"Keep your voice down. Lila’s resting with the baby."

There was a soft clatter.

Ethan turned his head, his eyes cold.

"Feel better now?"

"Next time, don’t joke like that. Who says someone’s dead just like that? Dragging Charlie into your drama? Aren’t you afraid he’ll learn your bad habits?"

So that was it. He didn’t believe the death certificate.

Exhausted, I picked up the divorce agreement, walked to the coffee table and watched him sign it in one cold stroke.

Collecting the death certificate, I turned around and reminded Ethan, “Remember to sign it.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but the annoyance on his face vanished the moment his gaze drifted past me.

“You’re awake?”

Lila stepped out of the master bedroom. Her silk pajama strap dangled off one shoulder and a deep red mark at her collarbone practically screamed for attention.

“Ethan, did you have a fight with Annelise?”

She picked up the agreement in exaggerated shock, her wide, doe eyes full of feigned innocence.

“Annelise, are you divorcing Ethan?! Why? Is it because of me?”

I snorted and stared straight at her. “Yes. Because you shamelessly carried a married man’s child. Because he has no shame in building another family outside this one.”

Her eyes immediately welled with tears. She tried to cover the red mark on her chest with her hand, still pretending to be embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, Annelise. I... I didn’t know opening the door that night would cause so much misunderstanding... I thought Ethan came to talk to me about something bothering him.”

I almost laughed out loud.

What kind of ‘bother’ makes a man abandon his wife on their anniversary to console someone else?

Ethan grabbed his jacket and gently placed it over Lila’s shoulders. “Don’t listen to her. She’s not thinking straight today.”

I didn’t want to waste another second with the two of them. Ignoring the gleam of provocation in Lila’s eyes, I walked into the nursery to pack Charlie’s clothes.

When I came back out, Lila was alone in the living room. She had crumpled a piece of paper into a ball and tossed it at my feet.

I recognized it instantly—it was Charlie’s death certificate.

“Who said you could go through my things?” I asked coldly.

She feigned surprise, though the glee in her expression couldn’t be hidden. “Annelise, your son really died from diarrhea? That’s insane! Ethan was right—kids with weak constitutions are just hard to raise. Ahaha!”

Rage overtook me. My whole body shook. Without thinking, I stormed over and slapped her hard across the face.

She shrieked and collapsed to the floor.

The next second, two sharp slaps landed across my head and cheek.

Ethan had lifted her off the floor and now stared at me with fire in his eyes.

“Annelise, that was too far!”

Lila clung to his chest, crying pitifully. “I just asked about Charlie... I only said maybe Annelise shouldn’t raise him to be so delicate... I didn’t mean anything bad... Ethan, did I say something wrong?”

Ethan shook his head.

“Annelise, which part of what she said was wrong? What’s happened to you? This is the second time you’ve hit her. One more time and I swear—this divorce will be real.”

He carried the sobbing Lila out the front door without another word.

Not wanting to see their faces again, I waited fifteen minutes before dragging my packed luggage downstairs.

Maybe Ethan had forgotten.

I wasn’t someone who caused trouble over everything. I was gentle by nature—never difficult, unless someone crossed a line. And hitting someone? That wasn’t like me at all.

That set of jewelry at the center of the last argument—six years ago, he had gone abroad to commission a famous designer to create it as part of my dowry.

Not just Ethan, but everyone seemed to have forgotten the Fletcher and Carter families had once supported each other.

But after the plane crash, the Carters had faded into obscurity.

That jewelry was part of the vow Ethan made to my parents—kneeling at their grave, promising to love me as they had, to give me everything perfect and good.

But six years had passed. He’d forgotten. The jeweler eventually auctioned off the set.

And I only ever wanted back what was originally mine.

But Ethan froze my accounts. And because of that—Charlie never got his medicine...

Waking up again in the hospital, I stared at the ceiling in a daze.

“You’re awake?”

The nurse gently removed the needle from the back of my hand. “You passed out on the side of the road at night due to low blood sugar. A couple saw you and brought you in.”

“Couple?”

A smile touched her face at the mention. “Yes, the man was very sweet to his wife. She was in labor and he was so anxious he nearly sweated through his shirt while waiting outside the delivery room.”

“…How long was I unconscious?”

“She gave birth the night before last.”

I already knew who the “couple” the nurse was talking about must’ve been. I asked her for the ward number and followed the directions.

Sure enough, I found the room where Ethan was spoonfeeding Lila some porridge while Mrs. Fletcher smiled beside the baby’s bassinet.

When Ethan spotted me, he froze for just a second.

“How are you feeling? The doctor said it was just low blood sugar. Just make sure to eat properly next time.”

Then, as if showing off a prize, he pulled me into the room.

“Come take a look. Isn’t Lila’s baby adorable? Doesn’t she look just like her?”

For a brief moment, I saw a flicker of the man he used to be—five years ago, when he held our son for the first time.

“You’re really that thrilled about the child you had from cheating on me?”

The smiles on both Ethan and his mother’s faces froze and tears welled up in Lila’s eyes.

“Annelise,” she whispered, “I know you blame me, but please… don’t speak that way about the baby. She’s innocent.”

Ethan gave me a disapproving look and picked up a tissue to dab her tears. Of course. Ever the attentive partner—just not to me.

Mrs. Fletcher, ever the peacemaker, asked Ethan to step outside with me to clear the air. She even insisted I’d always be part of the Fletcher Family and that Lila’s child would never replace Charlie’s place in their hearts.

What lovely words.

“Mom’s right,” Ethan added with a sigh, his tone softening.

“Annelise, I want you to understand—nothing and no one can replace you or Charlie. So could you maybe show a little more kindness to Lila? She grew up with nothing. She’s had a tough life.”

“And,” he added, “I checked with the hospital. Charlie was discharged a while ago. Where is he now? Hasn’t he always seemed a little lonely being an only child? Now that he has a little sister, I bet he must be very happy now.”

“And another thing—Lila wasn’t wrong the other day. Charlie’s a boy. You’ve raised him too delicately. He needs to exercise more. That’ll build up his immune system.”

There it was again.

“What about you?”

Ethan hesitated, his face showing a hint of guilt. “Lila just gave birth. She needs someone to take care of her...”

“Perfect.”

I sneered. “Do you remember why Charlie has a weak immune system in the first place?”

Ethan stared at me blankly. He’d clearly forgotten.

I had lost my parents when I was nineteen. I became the orphan no one wanted.

It was Ethan who stepped in and brought me into his family.

He proposed to me when I was nineteen, begged me to trust him and convinced me to give him everything.

That same year, I got pregnant.

But one night, while I was home with a high fever, he was out street racing. I miscarried—alone.

The ultrasound had shown twins.

After that, I couldn’t conceive for two years. When I finally did, Ethan didn’t trust me to stay. He forced himself on me just to make sure I wouldn’t run.

Back then, I hadn’t fully recovered. My body was weak and so was the baby. The doctor had told him all this—directly.

And now? He didn’t remember any of it.

I lowered my eyes and pulled out the divorce agreement once more.

Wordlessly, I handed it to him.

“Sign it.”

Ethan stared at me, his expression conflicted. Once he realized I truly meant to divorce him, a flicker of anger crossed his face.

“These are just small things,” he said, his voice tightening. “We can work through them—there’s no need to…”

“To go this far?” I cut him off flatly.

I had no patience for his performance anymore.

His face darkened with irritation. His words came out choppy. “Where would you even go after the divorce? The Carter estate’s already been sold. Even if you don’t care about yourself, what about Charlie? Do you think someone like you—penniless—can take him with you?”

Then something seemed to occur to him and his tone lightened—mocking, smug.

“Or what, are you saying you’d rather throw away Charlie’s inheritance from the Fletcher Corporation just to leave me and take him away too?”

Our raised voices began to draw attention from passing staff and visitors. Mrs. Fletcher quickly ushered us back into the hospital room.

But I didn’t care. All I wanted was to finalize the divorce—fast.

“Yes.”

Just one word—but it wiped the smile clean off his face. His jaw tensed, veins popping at his temples.

“Fine. Fine! Keep acting crazy, see where it gets you.”

He pulled out his phone and called his lawyer, ordering him to draft a new divorce agreement immediately. Then he grabbed a pen and signed without hesitation.

My heart loosened the moment I saw his name on the paper. I signed quickly, folded the agreement and turned to leave the hospital without a backward glance.

Because I walked away so fast, I didn’t hear the faint words he muttered under his breath—

“If you regret it… after Lila’s discharged, let’s talk.”

He watched my fading figure, the lightness in my step and something in his chest pulled tight.

Ethan hadn’t seen our son in over two weeks. And for some reason, that fact suddenly hit him like a brick.

He stood frozen for a moment—then sprang up and rushed after me.