Chapter 1

At the scene of the raging fire, my husband scooped up his fainting mistress first.

He never heard our six-year-old daughter crying and screaming for help from inside the flames.

My little girl was burned alive.

When her death certificate was issued, he was still at the hospital, tenderly tending to his golden bird.

The very first words out of his mouth when he finally stepped home were, "Janna, tell your daughter to get out here and donate some blood."

I broke down, desperately trying to tell him that our baby was gone, but he cut me off with pure irritation.

Fine. If that is how it is, your precious little songbird can be buried right alongside my daughter!

1.

My tears had completely dried up. I numbly handled the arrangements for my daughter Maisie's funeral.

It had been three whole days since the tragedy, and my husband, Bennett Ford, had spent every single second keeping Lucinda company.

I had waited for him for three days without eating or drinking, clutching the divorce papers in my trembling hands.

On the evening of the third day, he finally crossed the threshold.

"Where is that little brat? Tell her to get the hell out here!"

His voice was dripping with impatience.

"I told her to stay at home, yet she forced Lucinda to cook for her and put Lucinda in the hospital! Does she not know Lucinda has never set foot in a kitchen?"

What right did he have to interrogate me? I let out a cold, bitter sneer.

My mocking laugh seemed to ignite his fury instantly. He seized my collar and shoved me violently to the hardwood floor.

"It is all because of an incompetent mother like you that she turned out so rotten! Lucinda still feels guilty and keeps defending both of you!"

Dizziness washed over me, leaving me unable to push myself up for a long moment.

Bennett looked down at me, his expression twisting with utter disgust.

"What are you pretending for? Lucinda is frail, but are you frail too? Stop trying to copy her to gain sympathy!"

I gathered the last ounce of my strength and slid the divorce papers across the floor to his feet.

"Yes, I am a cheap imitation, so why do not you spend the rest of your miserable life with your real treasure?"

"Sign it, Bennett. I wish you two a long, happy life together."

Bennett froze for two seconds, clearly taken aback that I would ever have the nerve to ask for a divorce.

"Janna, you plotted so hard to trap me into this marriage, and our kid is already this big. Are you really willing to let go?"

"When a child commits a crime, she must be taught a lesson! Stop playing your cheap psychological games with me!"

Every single word he spat out felt like a jagged knife plunging deep into my chest.

If the non-stop exhaustion of the past three days had not drained every bit of my physical strength, I would have slapped him across the face.

"Why do not you ask yourself why my daughter went to her place all alone in the first place? Do you even know that Maisie―"

A crisp, stinging slap cut my words short.

I reached up and touched my left cheek, feeling the throbbing swelling under my fingertips.

"Is not it just because she thinks she is an arrogant little princess who deserves the whole world bowing to her? That vile temper of hers is an exact carbon copy of yours."

He pulled a folded blood donation consent form out of his tailored suit pocket.

"Lucinda was diagnosed with severe anemia. Your daughter caused this mess, so she will be the one to fix it."

I glanced down at the paper, my voice shaking with horror.

"Six hundred milliliters? Bennett, she is only six years old!"

"So what if she is six? She shares the same rare Rh-negative blood type with Lucinda! We will just feed her some extra steak and supplements afterward!"

With that, he pulled out a boxed fashion doll and tossed it carelessly onto the table.

"You are her mother, so guide her properly. Consider this her reward."

I recognized the cheap doll. It was the kind sold for barely ten bucks at the street stands outside the city hospital.

Bennett hated me, and that hatred bled effortlessly into his treatment of our daughter.

Every single birthday of Maisie's, he was off keeping Lucinda company.

Every time midnight drew near, I watched with an aching heart as the bright sparkle in Maisie's eyes slowly faded into desolate gloom.

Once, Maisie had timidly begged him for a birthday present, and Bennett had impatiently tossed her a random bouquet of flowers.

Maisie was violently allergic to pollen, yet she had been overjoyed that day, begging her kindergarten teacher to help her press them into dried flowers.

Now, only after she was dead, did he finally bring the cheap doll she had dreamed of for years.

And it was all done merely to harvest her blood for Lucinda.

In his eyes, the sacred bond between a father and his child was nothing more than a transactional deal.

I inhaled a long, trembling breath.

"Bennett, just sign the papers. Maisie did nothing wrong, and she will not bear the blame for a fabricated crime."

The only mistake my poor baby ever made was loving her father with all her little heart.

Seeing my unwavering resolve, Bennett let out a chilling snort.

"I am warning you, do not come crying to me later! Once we are divorced, forget about the family fortune―you will not get a shred of custody over Maisie either!"

I sat there quietly like a lifeless porcelain doll, letting his venomous words wash over me.

Finding no resistance against his fury, Bennett glared at me one last time and slammed the front door shut as he stormed out.

From beginning to end, he never once asked where our daughter actually was.

He still arrogantly believed that I would crawl back to beg for reconciliation, convinced this was just another tantrum of mine.

He was dead wrong.

A woman can endure endless hardships for the sake of her family, but that does not mean I will kneel at his feet forever.

I firmly signed my name on the divorce decree and packed away every single item that belonged to my baby girl.

This broken home was finally coming to an end.