Chapter 1

1

After his undercover assignment ended, my husband became a completely different person.

He would stare blankly out the window, his eyes filled with a deep, unshakeable sorrow.

He no longer scooped up our daughter to spin her around, nor did he bring home surprise bouquets after work.

He even dodged my affectionate touches, backing away with awkward stiffness.

Later, on the night our daughter was killed in a car crash, I saw him.

He was standing in the freezing rain, pressing a desperate and deeply passionate kiss onto another girl's lips.

……

I was in the middle of a corporate meeting when I got the call about the accident.

Hearing the words 'died on impact' felt like a lightning bolt striking the top of my skull.

It shattered my soul into pieces.

I rushed to the city morgue like a madwoman.

There, I saw my little girl's twisted body lying on a freezing metal table.

The yellow floral sundress I had gently dressed her in that morning had become her burial shroud.

The room was filled with chaotic noise.

Someone was offering hollow condolences, while another voice demanded answers.

The delivery truck driver waved his hands frantically. "Your kid ran right out into the middle of the street! It wasn't my fault!"

I collapsed onto the linoleum floor, screaming in absolute despair.

"Why would she run into the street? Where is her father? Where was he?"

"Mrs. Sullivan, your daughter got off the city bus all by herself," the police officer told me with a pitying look.

"We didn't see any adult accompanying her."

I had always been the one to drive Aria to her ballet classes.

But today, she had timidly asked if her daddy could take her.

Ever since Carter returned from his year-long undercover assignment, he had been ice-cold toward us.

He would zone out for hours and actively avoided looking me in the eye.

He stopped calling me 'sweetheart' and just used my formal first name, 'Mia'.

He constantly made excuses to sit in his truck and smoke, and when our daughter tried to act cute for him, he looked annoyed.

Our once deeply spoiled little girl didn't understand what was wrong with her daddy.

She innocently just wanted to fix their broken bond.

I caved and let him take her.

After watching the father and daughter leave, I headed to my office for a meeting.

But I never imagined that this one single moment of letting go would cost my daughter her life.

I called Carter's phone over and over again.

All I got was the agonizing sound of his voicemail.

My mother-in-law was terminally ill in the hospital, and my own parents lived a thousand miles away in Texas.

Faced with this soul-crushing tragedy, I had to handle everything completely alone.

In the end, with just my signature on a form, my vibrant daughter was reduced to a tiny box of ashes.

Clutching my baby's urn, I walked back to our apartment complex like a brain-dead zombie.

That was when I spotted Carter.

Standing in the pouring rain, he gently yet fiercely cupped a young girl's face.

Then, he leaned in and gave her a deep, consuming kiss.

The girl was petite and fragile.

As he ravaged her lips, she seemed to lose all her strength, her soft body melting right into Carter's embrace.

They were kissing so passionately that neither of them noticed me standing right there as a spectator.

The gruesome image of my daughter's tragic death flashed in my mind.

It violently collided with the romantic scene playing out right in front of me, creating a sickening, absurd contrast.

In that moment, I didn't even know if I should feel fury or agony.

My mind went totally blank, leaving me rooted to the spot without even the strength to scream or demand answers.

I really should have seen this coming.

Carter's line of work was highly classified.

When I married him, I had fully prepared myself to carry the weight of our family all on my own.

For seven years, I worked my day job and spent my nights caring for his sick mother at the hospital.

I bought and set up our entire home by myself.

To save a couple hundred bucks, I hauled heavy boxes of floor tiles up six flights of stairs.

When the creepy neighbors tried to bully me, I had to grab a butcher knife just to give myself the guts to fight back.

When I was pregnant, I threw up until I passed out on the bathroom floor.

I lay there for eight hours before anyone found me.

I went to all my prenatal checkups alone, feeling like a total outcast among all the happy couples.

When my water broke in the middle of the night, I took an Uber to the ER and signed my own consent forms through blinding pain.

When I was heartbroken, he wasn't there.

When I was joyful, he was still absent.

I lived my life like a lone wolf.

Because of his clearance, I always gave vague answers when people asked about my husband, leading everyone to pity me as a miserable widow.