The Belated Confession from a Disqualified Father

My six-year-old twins, Liam and Lily, begged to go to Disneyland. But my husband, Julian Vance, planned to take his mistress to a prenatal clinic. Annoyed by the twins' crying and deeming them "too delicate and spoiled," Julian drove them out to the Mojave Desert, demanding they learn how to survive on their own. I couldn't even fathom it. I begged him desperately. "Julian, please! Give me the coordinates! Tell me where my babies are!" "They're only six! They'll die out there! I promise I'll discipline them. I'll never let them bother you again. Please, just let me go get them back!" The only answer I got was the sound of him having sex with his mistress. By the time Julian found out the truth, it was already too late. He knelt before me, crying and pleading for forgiveness, but my children were no longer around to forgive him. And I could never forgive him on their behalf. Chapter 1 The wooden door of the office muffled some of the noise, but I could still hear the rhythmic thumping, accompanied by Chloe's breathy, sickly-sweet giggles. They were having sex. Right there, while my babies were roasting under the blazing sun. The intercom on the wall buzzed, and Julian's voice came through the speaker, breathless and full of contempt. "Get the hell out, Serena!" he snapped. "They've been taking private wilderness survival lessons since they were four. If they don't even have the basic skills to survive a little camping trip, they don't deserve to be my heirs!" A week later, I stood in the basement of the coroner's office. To identify two bodies. They died of severe dehydration. The coroner warned me before lifting the white sheet: "Before the search and rescue helicopters arrived, desert wildlife—coyotes and vultures—got to them." The moment the sheet was pulled back, I couldn't breathe. The mangled remains lying on the steel tables were my children. My sweet Liam, whose favorite thing was playing with Legos. My darling Lily, who always dreamed of being a princess. That night, as I sat in the morgue's waiting room, clutching their blood-stained clothes to my chest, the sky outside the window suddenly erupted in dazzling colors. Fireworks. I found out later that Julian had rented out the Santa Monica Pier to host a massive fireworks show, celebrating the fact that Chloe was carrying a healthy baby. That same night, a video of him went viral on social media. In the video, he held a glass of champagne, and a reporter asked about his eldest son and daughter. Julian scoffed at the camera. "I can have as many kids as I want. The next one will definitely be raised right. Let's hope those two little brats have learned their lesson roughing it in the wild." I sat in the dark, staring at my phone screen. A hoarse, hollow laugh ripped from my throat, tasting like ash. "They learned it, Julian," I whispered to the empty room. "They're dead." Looking back at the closed doors of the autopsy room, the brutal reality completely crushed me. Grief stabbed into my gut like a jagged blade, the pain unbearable. I threw my head back and let out a sound I never thought a human could make—a primal, feral, soul-shredding scream. "Liam! Lily! My babies!" The agonizing pain of losing my children felt like having my heart ripped raw from my chest without anesthesia. A pungent metallic taste surged into my mouth. I coughed violently, bright red blood splattering onto the pristine hospital tiles, and then everything went black. I woke up lying in a hospital bed. Outside the window, the grand finale of Julian's fireworks show was still illuminating the night sky with golden sparks. In the hallway, I heard two nurses talking in low voices. "Did you see the news? The CEO of Vance Enterprises put on that whole show for his pregnant girlfriend. My god, it's so romantic." "I know, right? That kid is going to be so spoiled. Talk about hitting the genetic lottery." I lay there, my gaze dead and fixed on the ceiling. Under the romantic glow of the fireworks, my heart had long since frozen. The image of my lifeless children was permanently burned into the back of my eyelids. I picked up my phone from the nightstand and dialed Julian's private number. The phone rang for a full minute before he finally picked up. "Serena, I'm busy," he snapped, his tone laced with obvious impatience. "I already had my guys go pick up the kids this morning." "You should be tucking them into bed right now, not calling me to play your manipulative little games." I gripped the phone tightly. I would never be able to read Liam and Lily a bedtime story again. I would never be able to kiss their warm foreheads again. My throat felt like it was blocked by something, and my voice came out raspy. "Julian... they're never coming back." His tone suddenly dropped, turning ice-cold. "Chloe already spoke with the rescue team. They reported that the kids are perfectly fine and on their way home. Drop it, Serena. You're being pathetic." "They're gone—" "Smothering mothers ruin their kids!" Julian yelled at me. "If I don't force them to toughen up, how are they going to survive in the corporate world later? If you don't have the guts for it, then shut up. Don't make them as weak as you are! Now stay home and take a good hard look at your own behavior!" He hung up the phone. Standing at the door of my hospital room was Eleanor Vance, Julian's grandmother and the formidable matriarch of the Vance family. She had heard everything. Her hands, resting on her silver-tipped cane, shook with rage. "That bastard!" she hissed, her eyes wide with horror and fury. "To do something so atrocious... he just signed his own death warrant with me! Serena, you wait right here. I'm going to tear him to pieces." I slowly sat up, my fingers tightly clutching the two tiny friendship bracelets the twins had woven for me. My body trembled with a cold, hollow wave of grief. "There's no need," I said hoarsely. Liam and Lily just wanted their father to spend more time with them. Instead, they were tortured to death under the scorching sun. I finally saw the truth I had deliberately ignored for years: to Julian, Chloe was everything. My children and I were nothing but disposable trash. No amount of revenge or apologies could ever bring my babies back.