Otherwise, Yara would never have sent both of her young daughters away to boarding schools overseas.

After giving birth to two girls in succession, she became pregnant a third time. But when the five-month scan revealed yet another girl, Yara couldn't bear the thought of another daughter. She terminated the pregnancy-not once, but three times in

a row.

It wasn't until the sixth attempt that she finally carried a son to term.

To Yara, her son was everything-her lifeblood, her legacy.

That was why she was so hard on him. She was terrified that the son she'd suffered so much to bring into the world would end up a disappointment. Even more, she feared he would shatter all her hopes.

She wanted him to be exceptional.

But not even in her worst nightmares did Yara imagine that, one day, her relentless discipline would cost her son his life.

When Yara's desperate words echoed through the corridor, the doctors and nurses stared at her in shock.

Was this really something a mother would say?

What did she mean, "What use are daughters?"

It was the twenty-first century-how could anyone still be so obsessed with having a son?

They simply couldn't understand.

Yara suddenly collapsed to her knees before the doctor, clutching at his coat. "Please, doctor, I'm begging you please save my son! He's all we have, our only child! He's our whole world-we can't live without him!"

She bowed again and again, her forehead striking the tiles with a dull thud, over and over.

The doctor rushed to pull her up. "Mrs. Somerset, please-you can't do this to yourself. We've done everything we possibly could. I'm so sorry for your loss."

He hesitated, then added softly, "You and Mr. Somerset should go in to see your boy one last time. After this... you may not get another chance."

No sooner had the words left the doctor's lips than Liam bolted for the ICU.

Yara scrambled to her feet and stumbled after him.

Harlan lay motionless on the hospital bed, a white sheet draped over his small body.

Liam's hands shook as he lifted the sheet. There was Harlan-eyes closed, body still warm and pliant, as if he were only sleeping.

“Harlan! Harlan! Oh, God-my boy!" Liam sobbed, pulling his son into his arms. "Please, open your eyes for Daddy, will you? Don't do this, Harlan-don't scare me like this!"

No one could truly understand Liam's agony.

The grief of losing a child is a pain beyond words, beyond sharing.

What tormented Liam most was knowing his son's death could have been prevented. Harlan should have lived.

This was no accident.

It was a tragedy that could have been avoided.

Yara threw herself across the bed, wailing, "Harlan, my darling, I'm so sorry- please, open your eyes. Give me one more chance, just one more. I promise I'll be a better mother-please..."

"Get out! Get out!" Liam roared, shoving Yara away. "You-you heartless woman! This is all your fault! If it weren't for you, Harlan would still be alive! He'd still be here!"

He turned all his rage on Yara.

But this time, Yara didn't shrink away. She slapped Liam across the face, her voice choked with fury and tears. "Liam! Think about it is this really only my fault? You never made a single mistake? You've got two legs—was there anything stopping you from going upstairs to check on your own son? You're his father! When I ask you to cut back on smoking, you never listen; you sneak cigarettes all the time. So why couldn't you sneak upstairs to see Harlan just once?"