Divorcing The Billionaire: My Son Comes First

"Ms. Kensington, your son's condition is critical. A foreign body is lodged deep in his bronchus, causing severe airway obstruction. We need your immediate signature on the critical illness notice for emergency surgery."

The cold and urgent voice of a colleague at the hospital broke through the noise on the phone, rousing Chloe Kensington from her work exhaustion.

Ten minutes ago, she was stuck working at the hospital. Just then, she suddenly received a phone call that disrupted her peaceful night. Leo, who is five years old, accidentally swallowed a bead while playing alone and was urgently sent to The New York-Presbyterian Hospital, his condition being critical.

Chloe's blood ran cold in an instant.

She abandoned her unfinished work, grabbed her coat in a rush, and drove straight to the emergency ward at top speed.

Now standing outside the pediatric operating room, she stared numbly at the critical illness notice in her hand, every word burning into her vision. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as she picked up the pen, scrawling her signature in jagged, shaking strokes. As a medical professional, she knew exactly what this notice meant-her little boy was teetering on the brink of death.

The terrifying scene the nurse described haunted her mind: Leo had been playing with tiny marbles in the nursery while she was at work. He had accidentally inhaled one mid-play, the hard marble wedging tightly in his bronchus, triggering violent choking, severe hypoxia, and desperate gasping for air.

By the time the nanny spotted his blue-tinged lips and frantic clutching at his throat, it was already too late for basic first aid.

Chloe's heart twisted with crushing guilt and fear. She had been working overtime, unaware her child was fighting for life alone at home.

In her intense longing for a bit of comfort and support, she dialed her husband Kurtis Jenkins's phone. At this moment, she desperately needed his presence, especially during this nightmare-like time.

The call went to voicemail. She redialed repeatedly, five times in total, before the line finally connected. Blaring music and raucous laughter flooded the background, a stark contrast to the heavy, deathly silence of the hospital corridor.

"Chloe? I'm at a crucial business dinner, about to deliver a keynote speech. What's so urgent?" Kurtis's voice was sharp, impatient, laced with pure irritation at being disturbed.

"Kurtis, it's Leo," Chloe choked out, her throat raw and tight with suppressed sobs. "He's in emergency surgery. He swallowed a marble, it's stuck in his airway-he's critically ill. The doctors are operating on him right now."

"Don't be ridiculous." Kurtis cut her off coldly, his tone utterly dismissive and unfeeling."Kids put random things in their mouths all the time. It's just a trivial accident. You're a doctor, you know how to handle this. Don't disrupt my important event for petty family stuff."

The line went dead instantly.

Chloe stared blankly at the black screen, the monotonous dial tone drumming in her ears. A bone-deep, soul-crushing chill spread from her chest to every limb, freezing her blood solid. While she was falling apart over their dying son, her husband cared only about his trivial social occasion.

A moment later, her phone vibrated with a message from a close friend, carrying an Instagram Live link. Numb and broken, she tapped it open.

The live stream burst into vibrant, celebratory color. A lavish private party was decked out with pink balloons and cascading fresh flowers. Front and center stood Kurtis, smiling brightly and basking in the crowd's attention.

Curled intimately into his side was his public mistress, social media influencer Genesis Greene. Clapping excitedly beside them, grinning from ear to ear, was Chloe's nine-year-old daughter, Mia.

Kurtis raised a champagne microphone, his eyes soft and devoted only for Genesis, oblivious to his son's life-or-death surgery. "To my one and only love, the light of my life-happy birthday, Genesis."

The crowd erupted in loud cheers. Genesis blew a playful kiss to the camera, her lip beauty mark glowing under the party lights. Mia's clear, childish voice rang out publicly for thousands to hear: "Happy birthday, Genesis Mommy!"

The words shattered Chloe completely. Her vision blurred with torrential tears. The phone slipped from her numb fingers, clattering hard on the cold hospital floor, its screen cracking into countless spiderwebbed shards.

Reflected in the broken glass was a perfect, happy new family: her husband, his mistress, and her own daughter. It was a grotesque, hellish contrast to her son, fighting desperately for survival behind the operating room's red-lit doors.

A silent, desolate laugh escaped her lips. His so-called "important business dinner" was nothing but his mistress's birthday party. While their five-year-old son lay dying on an operating table, his father was celebrating another woman's birthday. While she drowned in guilt and terror, her daughter had already embraced a new mother without a second thought.

Years of tolerance, sacrifice, and endless dedication to her family had amounted to nothing but brutal, public humiliation. Her marriage was a hollow, pathetic joke.

Slowly, Chloe bent to pick up her shattered phone. Kurtis's smiling face was split into dozens of ugly, alien fragments. She wiped away her scalding tears and stood straight.

Every trace of grief and weakness in her eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp calm, as icy and unyielding as broken glass. The operating room's red light still blazed above her, but she knew the truth. Her love, her marriage, and every last illusion she'd ever held for Kurtis had been completely and permanently extinguished.