The Regret of My Ex-Wife and Son After Sending Me to Prison

As I was filling out my social reintegration application form, a young hand suddenly snatched my pen away roughly.

I stopped what I was doing, slowly raised my head, and met Ethan's mocking eyes.

Behind him stood Jennifer, with exquisite makeup and a cool, arrogant expression.

"What? After seven years in prison, you've finally learned to bow your head?" Jennifer looked down at me, her gaze sweeping over my faded gray overalls, her eyes revealing undisguised disgust.

She crossed her arms and snorted coldly: "You took the initiative to come to the Social Services Bureau to complete the procedures, and even deliberately chose the time when we were doing community charity work. You've finally come to your senses and want to remarry me, haven't you?"

"Don't put on that aloof, arrogant act." Ethan chuckled, toying with the pen he'd snatched from my hand. "Uncle Andrew said that if you're willing to kneel down and apologize to him, our family might still give you a meal."

Upon hearing the name "Andrew," the temperature in my eyes instantly plummeted to freezing.

These three words, like a rusty knife, fiercely pried open memories I had sealed away for seven years.

Seven years ago, I was the "Titan of Wall Street," a renowned figure in New York's financial circles. After uncovering that my wife Jennifer's first love, Andrew Shaw, was involved in billions of dollars in financial fraud and illegal gambling dens, I did not hesitate to submit the irrefutable evidence to the U.S. Department of Justice.

But I never expected that the ones who dealt me the fatal blow in court would be my wife and my own son.

Jennifer cried in front of the media cameras, saying firmly, "My husband is just jealous of Andrew's talent, that's why he maliciously slandered him. Please don't blame him."

Ethan, who was still young at the time, stood in the witness stand and told the most vicious lie in the most innocent tone: "My dad didn't do it on purpose. He just couldn't accept that Uncle Andrew was more successful than him."

That meticulously planned distortion of the truth completely destroyed my financial empire. I was convicted of malicious framing and sentenced to seven years in prison, falling from grace and into the mire.

Now, I've served my seven-year sentence. My former "good wife and children" actually think I've suffered so much that I've come to them begging for mercy.

"I'm talking to you, Liam!"

Jennifer tapped the table impatiently, forcefully pulling me back to reality.

“Now that you’ve given in, I’ll plead with Andrew. You can go back to the hedge fund and take a sinecure job, paid at the level of an administrative assistant. Of course, you’ll still have to do all the housework.”

She slightly raised her chin, as if bestowing upon me a great favor: "This is the best charity you, a convict with a criminal record, can receive. Face reality."

Looking at this self-righteous mother and son, the turmoil in my heart had long since turned into a stagnant pool.

"Give me back my pen." I looked directly into Ethan's eyes, my voice cold and unwavering.

Jennifer frowned, seemingly extremely displeased that I hadn't immediately shown gratitude: "Liam, what are you putting on airs for? Do you think you're still the same person you were back then..."

“Jennifer, we’ve been divorced for seven years.”

I interrupted her coldly, my gaze sweeping across her face like a blade. "Keep your charity for that fraudster Andrew. Now, take him and get out of my sight. Don't bother me again."

Upon hearing this, the surrounding air seemed to freeze instantly.

"How dare you talk to my mother like that?!"

Ethan, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, suddenly took a step forward and grabbed my worn-out work clothes collar tightly.

"Who do you think you are? Uncle Andrew is now a powerful financial tycoon on Wall Street! Unlike you, a good-for-nothing who only cared about your family before going to prison, and now you're just a penniless piece of trash!"

Ethan's spittle almost hit my face. Looking at this face that was once connected to me by blood, but now cheering for my enemy, I felt not anger, but rather utter absurdity.

My muscles tensed instantly, and my eyes flashed with the killing intent honed during my seven years of imprisonment.

Just as I was about to grab his wrist and dislocate his arm, Jennifer suddenly reached out and yanked Ethan away.

"Ethan, don't get your hands dirty."

She hadn't realized the near-death experience just now, and thought I was just being stubborn. She straightened her expensive shawl and sighed self-righteously.

"He's just extremely insecure and in a fit of impotent rage. Let him be."

Then, she took out a finely crafted gold-embossed business card from her limited-edition Hermès bag and, with an air of superior arrogance, forcefully stuffed it into my jacket pocket.

“Liam, you’ve been in prison for seven years. You’re so outdated. Even your self-esteem has become ridiculous.”

She looked down at me, her tone full of condescension: "Take this business card. When you can't even afford food one day and finally face reality, contact me."

She paused, a mocking smile playing on her lips: "But remember, you need to make an appointment in advance to see me."

Looking at her disgusting posture, I finally couldn't help but sneer.

The cold laugh sounded extremely abrupt in the empty service hall, and Jennifer and Ethan's faces instantly darkened.

I didn't touch the disgusting business card in my pocket, nor did I spare them even a glance. I turned around decisively, bumped into Ethan's shoulder, and strode towards the lobby exit.

"You ungrateful wretch! You'll be begging Uncle Andrew on your knees sooner or later!" Ethan cursed angrily from behind.

I glanced down at my chest.

There was a dull black and gold badge pinned there , which Jennifer and Ethan had no right to recognize.

That is the sole symbol at the pinnacle of the entire financial pyramid—a lifetime honorary member of the "Peak Club".