After physically punishing his son, his wife went crazy

The night I beat my son to death, my wife was tutoring her old flame’s son. When she got my son's desperate call for help, she hung up with an impatient, "If you're gonna die, then die! Stop with the drama!" She thought it was just another one of his ploys to avoid punishment. But when she saw his grave, she completely lost it...

1.

My son, Ethan, died on the first day of winter break. It was his birthday.

I was away on business. I’d called him the day before, promising I'd be back for his birthday. His voice was small. "Dad, I didn't do well on my test... but it's my birthday."

I was about to reply when I heard Mary, my wife, yelling, "Who are you putting on this act for? Have you been mistreated? You little drama queen! You're such a screw-up!" The line went dead. Furious, I planned to have a serious talk with Mary about how she spoke to Ethan.

I never imagined that would be my last conversation with him. The next day, his phone went straight to voicemail. Panic rising, I drove through the night, only to learn that Ethan had been kept after school. I begged the school to help me find him.

What awaited me wasn't my son, but the news of his death. Cause of death: sudden cardiac arrest. Ethan was born with a heart condition, but he'd been healthy under my careful watch. Now he was gone, found in the school’s damp, abandoned equipment room.

Numb, my hand trembled as I lifted the sheet. Ethan’s face was bruised and purple. Tear stains streaked his cheeks, a testament to his final agony. His eyes, closed by the doctor, wouldn’t stay shut. He couldn’t rest in peace.

I collapsed. My hand rested on his icy skin. The birthday present I’d bought him was still in the trunk. He'd never receive it.

I learned from other teachers that it was Mary, his own mother, who'd insisted Ethan stay after school. She’d abandoned him there. Where had she been?

My body shook as I called her. It went to voicemail over and over. Finally, she answered. "John! Are you crazy? Why are you blowing up my phone? Don't you know Alex is studying?"

Alex was Ethan’s classmate. Mary doted on him. I’d been puzzled by her attention until I learned Alex was the son of her high school sweetheart, David.

"Alex just transferred," she snapped. "I'm his teacher; of course, I'm going to look out for him. Don’t be so twisted, John!"

Alex was an average student. Mary tutored him daily, offering encouragement and praise. Ethan, on the other hand, only received impatience and scorn. I’d tried to talk to her about it before. "You're not the teacher, I am," she'd retorted. "Your son is so dense; if I don't ride him, he’ll amount to nothing! Look at Alex. He moved up another spot in the rankings! Your son is an embarrassment."

Even now, all she could talk about was Alex. "Mary! How could you?! You left Ethan alone at school! Do you know–"

"Don't you yell at me!" she shrieked. "That little liar! He only got third place on the test! It's all your fault for spoiling him! He's a manipulative...