The call came just as I was hurrying to the parent-teacher meeting—a shrill voice of reprimand from Grace's teacher.

“Mrs. Hill, you neither attend, nor did you notify us. This is unacceptable!”

Apologies spilled from my lips as I fumbled for an explanation. Hanging up, I called Leonard immediately.

It took three tries before he picked up. His tone was sharp, impatient. “What now?”

I tried to explain the situation, hoping for some accountability, but he cut me off.

“You gave birth to two burdens and neither of them is a boy to carry my family name. Now you’re disturbing me over this nonsense?”

The venom in his words was familiar, but this time it struck deeper.

My silence was my only shield. I hung up and drove to the villa, every mile amplifying my disappointment in him.

When I arrived, Grace’s little face was waiting at the door, her smile faltering as she met my eyes.

“Mom, can’t we change Dad?” she asked, her voice heartbreakingly innocent.

The question hung in the air, an echo of the silent despair I had carried for years.

My father’s voice on the phone dragged me from my reverie, his words sharp and unyielding.

“Divorce? And bring two daughters back home? Who would marry a woman with two children?”

I laughed bitterly at his outdated concerns. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll arrange their futures myself. I just want to be free of him.”

His arguments, though fierce, crumbled under the weight of my resolve. He hung up, his disapproval clear, but it didn’t matter.

Opening my phone, I typed a post in my circle of friends.

[Looking for a lawyer. Any recommendations?]

Moments later, I saw a new update from Leonard.

There he was, standing center stage at a grand celebration, arm draped casually around Beth, the Millers’ heiress. Her family had funded the latest round of financing for Leonard’s company.

My chest tightened, but not with jealousy. It was pure exhaustion. I no longer cared what Leonard did, who he entertained, or whose favor he sought. All I wanted was a swift divorce, to take my daughters far from his shadow.

The phone rang again. Leonard’s name flashed on the screen. Against my better judgment, I answered.

His voice was hoarse, tinged with drunkenness. “My dear Carrie,” he slurred, “the house is a mess after the party. No cleaning lady is available. Can you come help me out?”

This old tactic—summoning me with false sweetness, with promises of affection—had worked in the past.

“Please, my wife,” he murmured, his tone once again wrapping itself around me like a serpent.

But this time, the spell was broken.

My love, my patience, my illusions—they were gone. I said nothing, hung up and blocked his number.

Leonard stormed home the next morning, dragging me from bed. His face was a storm cloud of anger and frustration.

“Carrie Richardson, how dare you block me? Do you even know what today is? It’s the ancestor honoring ceremony and you’re acting like a spoiled child! Have you lost your mind?”

His fury barely grazed me. I sat up, meeting his rage with a calm, icy tone. “Why should I and my daughters attend your family’s event? Why don’t you go yourself?”

For a moment, he faltered. Then, softening his tone, he tried again. “This time, you can come, but you’re not allowed to participate in the ceremonies. Just bring the girls.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me, hollow and bitter. “Do you think the ancestor honoring ceremony at your precious Hill Family mausoleum is some kind of grand feast I’m desperate to attend?”

His jaw tightened and he said nothing for a long moment. Then his impatience returned. “You have to come. Beth wants to see the ceremony. If she’s satisfied, the company can move forward with its listing. After that, you can ask for whatever you want.”

Ah, so this was about Beth and her family’s money.

It was never about us—never about the daughters he claimed to care for, nor the wife he pretended to respect.

I crossed my arms, a cold smile playing on my lips. “Fine. Bring me the house deed first.”

For once, the silence that followed was his.

Leonard’s face darkened like a gathering storm, his tone laced with finality. “Impossible. The house title has been mortgaged to the bank.”

I raised an eyebrow, letting his words settle in the air before nodding silently.

“Alright,” I replied coolly, “as long as you don’t regret it.”

“I’ll tell you my request after the ancestor honoring ceremony,” he declared, his voice clipped as he turned and strode toward the children’s bedroom.

Before disappearing behind the door, he added with a scornful smirk, “I don’t regret it. But you should. If you don’t give me a son, maybe it’s time to change the children’s mother.”

I didn’t flinch, but inside, something snapped. As soon as he left, I picked up my phone and confirmed my intentions with the lawyer I had contacted.

You don’t need to replace me, Leonard. This time, I’ll replace you.

That afternoon, I dressed up with my daughters and brought them to the Hill Family’s imposing mausoleum. The ancient structure loomed against the sky, every brick radiating centuries of tradition and pride.

Beth was already there, resplendent in an exquisite dress, her laughter ringing out as she stood beside Sir Hill, the Hill Family patriarch. Her aura was effortlessly charming as she chatted and laughed.

The moment she spotted Leonard, her eyes lit up like a child’s at Christmas. She hurried to him, her voice bubbly with excitement.

“Leonard, you’re finally here! You said you’d bring me to witness your ancestor honoring ceremony. And then you went back to pick up your wife? That’s so sweet of you!”

Leonard, ever the performer, held our daughters’ hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world, a picture-perfect father. His smile was disarming, his words deliberate.

“What can I say? Carrie probably stayed up late watching her dramas and lost track of time. If I hadn’t picked her up, you would have been disappointed today.”

He spoke loudly, his voice carrying over the gathered crowd. Eyes turned toward me, judgmental and disdainful.

My fingers curled into fists.

I wanted to expose his lies, to strip away the veneer of his affection, but then I saw Grace’s eager face. She had been thrilled when she learned she could finally step into the Hill Family’s mausoleum, something she’d been denied for so long.

This moment wasn’t about me or my anger—it was about her.

Beth’s light laugh broke the tense silence. “Oh, Mrs. Hill, you’re so lucky! Leonard spoils you so much. I hope I can be as lucky as you someday.”

I forced a smile. “I’m sure you will.”

Just not with Leonard.

The ancestor honoring ceremony began with solemnity at noon. The Hill Family, adorned in shades of black, lined up to enter the ancient mausoleum nestled in the mountains.

As we joined the queue, I watched Leonard walked ahead with Beth. He held an umbrella over her, shielding her delicate features from the sun as he explained the ceremony rites with the patience of a doting partner.

His smile gleamed in the sunlight and for a fleeting moment, Beth’s eyes reddened, as though touched by his charm.

Beside me, Grace tugged on my sleeve, her voice timid. “Mom, can we really go inside the mausoleum?”

I crouched down to her level and pointed to the mother-daughter pair ahead of us. “Look, Grace. See them? They’re mothers with daughters too and they’re going in. So yes, we can too.”

But the truth was far uglier.

Years ago, Leonard had forbidden me from bringing our daughters into the mausoleum.

I had begged, argued and cried. My voice raw with desperation. “Other families allow daughters into the temple. Why can’t ours?”

He had dismissed me with a cold finality. “Because I don’t want to. You’ll embarrass me.”

To him, daughters—our daughters—were a stain on his ambitions.

Beth’s sweet, innocent voice jolted me back to the present. “Mrs. Hill, would you like me to hold Grace for you? I don’t have a child of my own, so I’d feel less awkward going in.”

My chest tightened. I stepped protectively in front of Grace, my voice firm. “No need. I’m her mother. I’ll hold her.”

Beth’s smile faltered and she cast a helpless glance at Leonard.

Ignoring my warning glare, Leonard swept up Sofia, our youngest and carried her toward Beth.

“Sofia, come with Daddy,” he said gently.

Sofia’s wide, innocent eyes met mine as she clung to him, unsure of what was happening. My heart twisted painfully.

This was the first time Leonard had held Sofia, the first time she’d felt the embrace of her father. A moment that should have been filled with joy felt like betrayal.

The mausoleum loomed ahead, its narrow and dim corridors exuding an oppressive weight. The pathway into its depths allowed only one person at a time, amplifying the silence and the significance of each step.

As I stood at the threshold with Grace, I steeled myself for what lay ahead.

For her, I would face it all.