I didn't want to cry, but my eyes burned and swelled with unshed tears.

This past year had wrung me dry. There was nothing left to give.

The first breakdown came when I discovered the man who'd once promised to love me forever had betrayed our family—for a fresh-faced intern barely out of college.

When Talia had a fever, one phone call from Rebecca was all it took. He'd dropped us and walked out without a backward glance.

Then came the despair. Victor's cruelty knew no bounds. To force my hand so he could be with Rebecca openly, he'd cut off our household funds entirely.

But what could I do?

I'd refused to leave because I wanted Talia to have an intact family. But tonight, at that birthday dinner, Victor's words had slapped me awake.

A man who could use his own daughter as a bargaining chip to please his mistress—keeping him around would only cast an endless shadow over my child's life.

If he was so desperate to run to his true love, then fine. Let him go.

A dull ache throbbed in my chest, making it hard to breathe. I forced myself to stand, intending to check on Talia in the bedroom.

She'd cried so hard earlier. I was worried she might develop a fever overnight.

But before I reached the door, a heavy thud echoed from inside the room.

Like something had hit the floor.

My heart lurched. A terror I'd never known before seized my throat.

"Talia?"

I shoved the door open and flipped on the light.

My daughter—who should have been asleep in bed—was crumpled on the floor. Her tiny body convulsed violently, her face mottled purple, foam frothing at her lips. Her eyes had rolled back, and her throat produced a horrible rasping wheeze, like broken bellows struggling for air.

An asthma-induced seizure.

Talia had congenital asthma. The doctors had warned me over and over—no major stress, no intense crying.

"Talia! Don't scare Mommy! Talia!"

I lunged forward and scooped her up, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

Her body was burning hot. Her breathing had faded to almost nothing.

Raw terror shattered every rational thought.

I fumbled for my phone to call 911 while frantically tearing through the medicine cabinet for her emergency inhaler.

It wasn't there. The spot where the inhaler should have been was empty.

Then I remembered—two days ago, Victor had ransacked the first aid kit looking for bandages, scattering medications everywhere. I hadn't had time to reorganize it.

No inhaler.

The movements in my arms grew weaker by the second. I didn't stop for shoes. I grabbed my daughter and ran for the stairs, dialing Victor's number with trembling fingers.

Thunder rolled outside. Rain hammered down in sheets.

We lived in the suburban villa—the ambulance would take at least twenty minutes. But Victor had left less than five minutes ago. If he just turned around, if he drove us to the nearest hospital, it would only take ten minutes.

This was a life.

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times...

Finally, a split second before it would have gone to voicemail, someone picked up.

I clutched at it like a lifeline, my voice cracking into a desperate scream.

"Victor! Come back! Please, come back now! Talia's having an asthma attack—she's going into shock! Come back and take us to the hospital! I'm begging you!"

But the voice on the other end wasn't Victor's frantic response.

It was a woman's voice—soft, syrupy, laced with drowsiness and mockery.

Rebecca.

"Oh my, if it isn't Odette."

"Victor left this phone at my place."

"So you really signed the divorce papers?"

"Yes, I signed them. Can you reach him now? Tell him to come back—something's happened to Talia—"

I fought to keep my composure.

A soft laugh came through the phone.

"Talia's having an asthma attack? Please. You'd do anything to save this marriage—cry wolf enough times and no one believes you anymore."

In my arms, my daughter let out a feeble whimper. Something inside me snapped.

"Make him come back! She needs help! This is his own daughter! Rebecca, you'll pay for this!"

Rebecca just laughed, her voice dripping with contempt.

"Honestly? It'd be better if she died. Victor's going to have a new child anyway."

Click.

The line went dead.

I stood there in the bitter wind, clutching my daughter as her body went limp in my arms. The hatred that surged through me in that moment—it eclipsed even my terror.

Victor. Rebecca.

If anything happens to my daughter tonight, I will bury your entire family with her.

In the end, that ambulance with its flashing blue lights became the regret I would carry for the rest of my life.

The doctor emerged from the ER, pulled down his mask, and shook his head.

The world didn't collapse. It simply went silent. Completely, utterly silent.

I didn't cry. I just felt something blunt push into my chest and start sawing back and forth until the pain turned to numbness.

I went through the motions mechanically—paperwork, selecting a burial plot, arranging the cremation.

Every form required a family member's signature. The pen trembled so violently in my hand I could barely write.

Somewhere in that haze, I called Victor.

I wanted to tell him our daughter was gone.

I wanted him to see Talia one last time.

First call—rejected.

Second call—rejected.

The third time, my phone buzzed with a text notification.

Victor: Stop calling to harass me. Talk to my lawyer if you have something to say. When you've come to your senses, meet me at the county clerk's office.

I stared at those cold words until my eyes burned dry. Not a single tear fell.

I typed back: Fine. Monday. County clerk's office. I'll be there.

This time, he replied instantly—a voice message.

I pressed play. His tone was mocking, impatient.

"Odette, you'd better not be stalling. If you stand me up, I have ways to make you regret it."

I didn't respond. I just turned off my phone.

The days that followed passed in a blur. I drifted through the empty villa like a ghost.

The funeral was simple—just a few bouquets of lilies, Talia's favorite flower.

I knelt before her casket, burning paper offerings through the endless nights.

Victor never came.

Not a single text asking what happened. Not one phone call.

Nothing.

On the day of the burial, the sharp click of heels echoed from outside the funeral home.

Crisp. Grating.

I looked up.

Rebecca stood in the doorway wearing a crimson dress, a designer bag dangling from her arm, sauntering in like she owned the place.

Her gaze landed on the black-and-white portrait at the center of the room. She pressed a hand to her lips in mock surprise, but her eyes glittered with undisguised satisfaction.

"Oh my. She actually died?"

She walked over and stood above me, looking down at where I knelt, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather.

"I was worried this little brat would fight my son for the family inheritance someday. Well, problem solved. Saves me a lot of trouble."

She tilted her head, a saccharine smile spreading across her face.

"Don't be too sad, Odette. It's called survival of the fittest. She was just making room for a child who actually deserves to be blessed."

My fingers tightened around my phone until my nails broke the skin of my palm. Blood seeped through the gaps between my fingers and dripped onto the floor.

I lifted my head and fixed my gaze on her perfectly made-up face. My voice came out raw, like I was choking on blood.

"Get out."

Rebecca let out a contemptuous scoff. "What's with the attitude? I came all this way just to kindly remind you not to forget about the divorce."

She tilted her head, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "After all, now that your little burden is gone, you don't exactly have any leverage to keep Victor anymore, do you?"

She turned away, ignoring the inferno raging in my eyes. Her gaze swept the room like she was surveying a conquered territory, and then she left, thoroughly satisfied.

I watched her retreating figure, and in my heart, I spoke to Talia, word by word.

Baby, take a good look. The people who hurt you—Mommy won't let a single one of them go.

They'll pay for what they've done. Every last one of them.

Monday. Outside the county clerk's office.

A cold drizzle fell without end. The sky hung low and gray, like one vast tombstone pressing down on the world.

I stood at the bottom of the steps in black from head to toe, the broken plastic crown clutched tight in my hand.

A black Maybach pulled up in front of me.

Victor stepped out, radiating confidence, looking like a man who had everything going his way.

But when his eyes landed on my face, that easy smile froze for just a moment.

I probably looked like a ghost.

Deathly pale. Hollowed-out eyes. So thin I was barely recognizable—like something had drained every last drop of life from my body.

Victor's brow furrowed. For once, a flicker of guilt—faint, almost imperceptible—crossed his features.

He walked over and opened an umbrella over my head. His voice softened, just slightly.

"What have you done to yourself?"

He paused, as if weighing his next words. "Since you're being so cooperative, I won't be completely heartless about this."

He pulled another document from his briefcase and held it out to me.

"I had my lawyer draft a new agreement. Everything I promised before, plus an additional two hundred thousand."

His tone turned magnanimous. "After all, raising Talia on your own won't be easy. School fees, medical bills—it all adds up."

The moment her name left his lips, my heart seized.

I raised my head. My eyes, flat and empty, locked onto his.

Victor shifted under my stare, visibly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and asked casually, as if making small talk:

"By the way, how's Talia been since that day? Still mad at me?"

He gave a light chuckle. "That kid holds a grudge—gets it from you. Once we're done here, I'll buy her a new toy. You can smooth things over with her."

I opened my mouth, ready to shatter his nauseating fantasy of fatherhood.

But before I could speak, the shriek of brakes cut through the rain, followed by a woman's shrill, furious voice.

"Odette, you shameless slut!"

Rebecca didn't even bother with an umbrella. She burst out of her red sports car like a woman possessed.

She shoved aside the umbrella Victor was holding over me and jabbed her finger in my face, screaming.

"You're about to sign divorce papers and you're still trying to seduce him? What, you can't survive without Victor? Is that it?"

Rain instantly soaked through my clothes. The icy droplets hammered against my skin—but they were nothing compared to the cold that had already settled in my bones.

Victor's brow creased, but not because I was getting drenched. He reached for Rebecca's hand, his voice tender with concern.

"Becca, what are you doing here? It's pouring—you'll make yourself sick."

He slipped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. His tone was so gentle, so warm—as if the cold, indifferent man who'd stood before me seconds ago had never existed.

Rebecca melted into his arms on cue, her eyes reddening as she pouted up at him.

"I was worried you'd go soft on her. This woman is so manipulative—what if she tries to use the kid against you again?"

Then she shot me a venomous glare. Her gaze dropped to the broken plastic crown in my hands, and her lip curled with undisguised disgust.

"Clinging to that piece of junk like it means something? You're lucky Victor's so patient—most men wouldn't bother with alimony for someone like you."

I wiped the rain from my face, expression blank, watching the two of them flaunt their disgusting affection right in front of me.

Victor patted her back with a resigned sigh. "Alright, enough. I already signed the papers, didn't I?"

Rebecca's eyes darted with sudden inspiration. She tightened her grip on his arm and lifted her chin, shooting me a triumphant look.

"Since we're already going to the county clerk's office today, why not take care of everything at once?"

She turned to Victor, her voice dripping with syrupy sweetness. "Babe, if you're getting your divorce certificate anyway, why don't we just get our marriage license today too?"

Victor blinked, clearly caught off guard. Hesitation flickered across his face.

"Today? Getting married right after a divorce... wouldn't that look bad?"

"Who cares how it looks! I don't care—I want it today! I want everyone to know I'm your real wife!"

Rebecca shook his arm relentlessly, even pretending to storm off in a huff.

Victor wavered, his gaze drifting toward me almost involuntarily, as if gauging my reaction.

I watched their little performance, and slowly—very slowly—a strange smile curved my lips.

"Say yes."

My voice came out hoarse, cutting through the rain with unsettling clarity.