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My Son's Death, His Sympathy Vote

Chapter 3 

Word Count: 653    |    Released on: 26/06/2025

snap in the center of my soul. After Leo' s funeral-a service Eth

ide was a satellite phone and a single, handwritten number. "For a real e

ed the

dy. Congressman Matthew Clark. My father' s protég

celyn Fuller." I used my m

. I am so, so sorry." His sympathy was genuine, a s

my voice flat, devoid of emo

ons. He didn't hesit

I'm ready. I have on

d every memento of my marriage. The photo albums, the dried flowers from our wedding, the li

The pictures curled, the faces of a happy cou

d at the fire, then at me. His act was

voice laced with a confused, possess

, not looking at him. "And

yet caught fire. It was of us holding a newborn Leo. "You

lence a more powerful accusation than any words. He flinched, his hand dropping to his side.

mming the do

rd. They were gathered around the small, white gazebo my father had helped me build. It was wh

o the patio, a glass o

I can't wait for this old thing to

at me, watching from the window. He saw the horror on my face. A flicker o

said, his voice carrying clearl

ast connection to this life being systematically destroyed. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just watched

nothing left to hold on

p the satellite phone, and

ready

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My Son's Death, His Sympathy Vote
My Son's Death, His Sympathy Vote
“My life as Jocelyn Scott, wife to rising political star DA Ethan Scott, was a carefully crafted facade of domestic bliss, though I, a Senator' s daughter, had traded my ambition for his. Then came the "accident." At the hospital, my husband, bandaged for dramatic effect, publicly declared amnesia, disowning me and our five-year-old son, Leo, and embracing his "first love," Sabrina, daughter of a powerful senator whose endorsement he craved. Overnight, I became a "household staff member" in my own home, watching Sabrina wear my clothes and sleep in my bed. Leo, ostracized and bullied at school, came home with bruises and tear-filled eyes, while his father walked past him as if he were furniture. The final, crushing blow came when Ethan, watching our son drown in a fountain, joked, "Well, that'll get the sympathy vote." Leo died that night, and Ethan saw his death as pure political gold. How could he? How could the man I loved, the father of my child, be such a monstrous, calculating machine? My son, my beautiful boy, reduced to a tragic headline, his resting place torn down for a hot tub. In that hollowed-out instant, the last shred of my former self died. And in its place, a cold, hard resolve was born. I would fake my own death, resurrecting Jocelyn Fuller, and become the ghost that would haunt his rise, then meticulously orchestrate his devastating fall.”
1 Introduction2 Chapter 13 Chapter 24 Chapter 35 Chapter 46 Chapter 57 Chapter 68 Chapter 79 Chapter 810 Chapter 911 Chapter 10