living solely for my five-year-old son, Leo. My wife, Vicky, a powerful CEO,
Vicky, utterly convinced, chillingly announced their "game
rous device scarring his tiny arm. I called Vicky, begging her to stop; her voic
urn and ground his photo under her heel, her lover at her side. My own parents
. How could my wife, my family, inflict such unspeaka
me snapped. I faked my own death, resurfacing with a new identity, a new ally, a