My Billionaire Husband Locked Our Son in the Sun
1.1k Views · Ongoing · Agatha Christie
My son Emery scored a perfect SAT and got early admission to MIT Physics. Eighteen years old. His future was limitless.
My billionaire husband Reid's assistant—his mistress in everything but name—suggested Emery attend some garbage local business school instead. Inherit the empire. Fall in line.
Emery said no. Reid exploded.
He locked my son in the lumber yard and ordered him to split five tons of oak. "No water until he's done. That'll teach him respect."
The sun was brutal. My son's asthma attacked. I knelt before Reid's mistress and begged for his inhaler while Reid crushed my right hand—my surgeon's hand.
I got the inhaler and ran back as fast as I could.
But I was too late. My son was already dead.
My billionaire husband Reid's assistant—his mistress in everything but name—suggested Emery attend some garbage local business school instead. Inherit the empire. Fall in line.
Emery said no. Reid exploded.
He locked my son in the lumber yard and ordered him to split five tons of oak. "No water until he's done. That'll teach him respect."
The sun was brutal. My son's asthma attacked. I knelt before Reid's mistress and begged for his inhaler while Reid crushed my right hand—my surgeon's hand.
I got the inhaler and ran back as fast as I could.
But I was too late. My son was already dead.















































