My wife made me get a vasectomy. Not once, but ninety-nine times.
Right before the hundredth operation, the doctor looked at me with pity in his eyes as the anesthesia failed to fully kick in.
"Ms. Gibson really knows how to destroy a man," he murmured. "She's put him through ninety-nine vasectomies, then had them reversed—again and again. However, his body's long since broken. There's no chance of children now."
"It's probably for her ex. Word is, it's his own brother. The scandals in these wealthy families—unbelievable."
Because of a hospital mix-up at birth, my and Jeff Cunningham's fates were exchanged. He grew up with the Cunningham family, while I lived a poor life.
Years later, my parents found the truth, taking me in and sending Jeff away. To make things worse, I became Wynnie Gibson's new fiancé.
I once asked her, barely able to speak through the pain, why she would marry someone she did not love.
She looked at me calmly.
"To get revenge," she said. "You came home and stole Jeff's place. He was the one I love. He drank himself to death after you returned."
Even my biological parents knew she was poisoning me.
However, they turned a blind eye.
They did nothing to stop her.
They knew Wynnie had got pregnant with Jeff's child through IVF—planning to raise the child and let him inherit the family fortune.
I coughed up blood and threw myself into the sea.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was first reunited with them.
This time, when I saw the sorrow in their eyes—sorrow not for me, but for the son they lost—
I chose to let them go.
