What Happens In 'When Your Child Breaks Your Heart' Ending?

Celeste Rodriguez and Trevor Fleming have been married for seven years. He treats her coldly throughout the marriage, but she faces it with a smile because she loves him deeply. She also believes she can melt his heart one day. However, all she gets is the news of him falling for another woman at first sight. He gives her all his care and concern, but Celeste stands strong. On her birthday, she flies abroad to be with Trevor and their daughter, Jordyn Fleming. To her devastation, Trevor brings Jordyn to meet his true love. They leave Celeste to spend the day alone. She finally gives up on him. She's also no longer hurt when Jordyn wants the woman to replace her as her mother. Celeste prepares a divorce agreement and gives up her custody rights. She leaves without another look back, cutting Trevor and Jordyn out of her life. All she needs to do now is wait for the divorce to be finalized. After giving up on her family and returning to the workplace, she easily makes a fortune. She shows the people who once looked down on her that she's better than they think. Celeste waits for her divorce certificate to arrive, but it never comes. She also notices that Trevor starts coming home more often when he's always refused in the past. He clings to her, too. When he learns that she wants a divorce, he drops his usual aloofness and pins her to the wall. "A divorce? That's not happening."

On her anniversary, Evelyn is diagnosed with cancer—only to come home and find her husband cheating with their son’s teacher. Worse, her little boy calls the other woman “Mommy” and calls Evelyn “a bad woman.” Abandoned by the man she loved and the child she raised, Evelyn signs the divorce papers with tears in her eyes. Just when she’s ready to give up, a strange little girl calls her “Mom”—and her father, Nicholas, offers the warmth Evelyn thought she’d never feel again. She lost everything. Will fate give her one last chance?

When I'm about to apply for medical insurance for my son, Connor Sawyer, who's about to start his first year in kindergarten, I'm told that I'm not his biological father at all. "Are you sure this is your son? The system shows that his father is an entirely different person." I don't respond at all. Instead, I secretly take a photo of the unfamiliar-looking address before tracking it down. It turns out that it's actually a residential area right by my own. The moment my wife, Giselle Lambert, sees me, she freezes momentarily. At the same time, she blocks the door subconsciously with her hand. "In the end, you still found out about the truth. But there's no use kicking up a fuss, you know. I never mistreated you in any way over the past three years, after all." When I notice the familiar figure standing behind Giselle, I feel my limbs going cold. That person is actually my younger brother, Vincent Sawyer, who has just graduated from college. Vincent hands Giselle a glass of water before smiling at me apologetically. "Don't blame me, Hayden. The doctor says that I'm severely depressed, so I can't handle hearing a child's cries at all. I'm really thankful to you for raising Connor on my behalf in the past few years." At that moment, Connor, who's supposed to be waiting for me in my car, rushes into the apartment. He runs into Vincent's arms happily before turning to look at me. "Don't cry, Uncle Hayden. Daddy says you're a good person, so he's asked you for help. Mommy tells me that if I call you 'daddy' in your home, I'll get to visit my real daddy during the weekends."

Before my death, I repeatedly remind my son, Clark Sinclair, what to do after I pass away. I stress that my heart must be donated to my husband, Craig Sinclair. He has suffered from dilated cardiomyopathy for 30 years. This is the last thing I can do for him. Clark shakes me off impatiently and snaps, "Enough. Stop pretending to be kind. Dad was never sick." I think I must have misheard him. "What?" He lets out a cold laugh and continues, "If you hadn't refused to divorce him all these years, why would he have needed to fake an illness just to be with Vern in secret?" My whole body trembles as I demand proof. Clark hands me a marriage certificate. On it are the names Craig and Verna Bloom, my widowed sister-in-law. The two lean against each other intimately, smiling sweetly at the camera. In an instant, rage and grief overwhelm me. The family I spend half my life building turns out to be nothing more than a complete lie. Clark continues expressionlessly, "Actually, Vern is my real mother. Your child was drowned in a bathtub long ago. Back then, Dad and Vern couldn't resist each other. She went into premature labor and nearly bled to death. She gave birth to me on the same day you gave birth. "Dad was so frightened that he developed heart palpitations. He was afraid you'd never stop causing trouble if you found out, so he pretended to be sick for 30 years." Curled up on the floor, I cough up a mouthful of blood. "Why tell me now?" Clark looks at me with eyes full of nothing but hatred. "You stole Vern's place for 30 years. And now, even on your deathbed, you want my dad to owe you a favor. Why should he?" An inexplicably bitter taste fills my mouth. In the end, I die consumed by regret. When I open my eyes again, I find myself in the delivery room next to Verna's. A wave of excruciating pain surges through my lower body.

In the fifth year of raising Nathan Hale, the son of Chelsea Hale and her first love, Lucas Garrison, Nathan drives toward me in his toy car, causing my lower leg bone to break. When the doctor patches me up, I finally think things through. Some children will never recognize me as their guardian no matter how much love and care I devote into raising them. The same goes to the grown-ups. That's why I decide to divorce Chelsea. She's a little annoyed by my request, so she questions me loudly, "All this over an accident? Nate already said that he didn't do it on purpose!" I look at Chelsea calmly. "It's precisely because of that."

My son accidentally burns my husband's first love's hand. My husband cruelly breaks my son's hand to teach him a lesson. He's in so much pain that he can't see straight and falls into a lake. Blood dyes the water red. I hold him close as I sob and call my husband, pleading for help. My husband doesn't care, though. "It's just a broken hand—he'll be fine once it's set in a cast. He'll only do worse things in the future if he's not taught a lesson now!" Later, my son drowns in the lake because he's not rescued in time. My husband loses his mind when he sees his body. "How could he have died when he only had a broken hand?"