The Price of His Indifference

The Price of His Indifference

Gavin

5.0
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The silence in our house wasn't peaceful. I was a software engineer, navigating the quiet tension of a marriage that felt increasingly hollow, raising our son Leo while my husband, Ethan, a renowned AI ethicist, became a ghost consumed by his work and his "research partner," Olivia Vance. Then, the tremors started in Leo's hand, a dizzy spell, a whispered "My head feels fuzzy, Mommy." Doctors were baffled, shrugging off his rapid neurological decline as "an anomaly." Meanwhile, Ethan dismissed my terror as overreaction, pointing to Olivia's daughter's mild complaints as proof of normalcy, the mention of her name like swallowing glass. My desperation escalated when Leo, trembling, whispered, "I want Daddy. Can Daddy come home and fix it?" I found Ethan and Olivia together, a team, a family, immersed in their multi-million dollar AI project, "Guardian," I pleaded for help, for one diagnostic scan, but Olivia, with a practiced smile, painted me as hysterical, manipulating Ethan into believing my son's illness was a weaponized distraction. "You're weaponizing our son's illness to punish me for my work," Ethan coldly accused, choosing his project and his "partner" over his dying child. He sealed Leo' s fate, and in that moment, something inside me shattered, replaced by a chilling clarity. "I'm done, Ethan," I said, a quiet vow. "Let's get a divorce." What they didn't know was it wasn't the end of a tragedy; it was the birth of an obsession. My son's death would not be quiet. It would be an explosion.

Introduction

The silence in our house wasn't peaceful.

I was a software engineer, navigating the quiet tension of a marriage that felt increasingly hollow, raising our son Leo while my husband, Ethan, a renowned AI ethicist, became a ghost consumed by his work and his "research partner," Olivia Vance.

Then, the tremors started in Leo's hand, a dizzy spell, a whispered "My head feels fuzzy, Mommy."

Doctors were baffled, shrugging off his rapid neurological decline as "an anomaly."

Meanwhile, Ethan dismissed my terror as overreaction, pointing to Olivia's daughter's mild complaints as proof of normalcy, the mention of her name like swallowing glass.

My desperation escalated when Leo, trembling, whispered, "I want Daddy. Can Daddy come home and fix it?"

I found Ethan and Olivia together, a team, a family, immersed in their multi-million dollar AI project, "Guardian,"

I pleaded for help, for one diagnostic scan, but Olivia, with a practiced smile, painted me as hysterical, manipulating Ethan into believing my son's illness was a weaponized distraction.

"You're weaponizing our son's illness to punish me for my work," Ethan coldly accused, choosing his project and his "partner" over his dying child.

He sealed Leo' s fate, and in that moment, something inside me shattered, replaced by a chilling clarity.

"I'm done, Ethan," I said, a quiet vow.

"Let's get a divorce."

What they didn't know was it wasn't the end of a tragedy; it was the birth of an obsession.

My son's death would not be quiet.

It would be an explosion.

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