My husband wanted to take a trip on government funding, but I refused and wanted to stay home with our daughter.

My daughter had a sudden heart attack that night. The distance from home to the hospital was only two kilometers, but he took a detour of twenty kilometers.

When we arrived at the hospital, she was no longer breathing.

I held my daughter's ashes, heartbroken, but he said lightly, “Heart disease is difficult to treat, so this is a relief.”

After packing his luggage, he said he had to accompany his boss on a business trip, which was crucial for his promotion.

I was alone and looked back at my daughter’s past updates on WhatsApp status when I saw an update from my secretary, Cassandra.

[Someone has abducted me to the Maldives! The sand here glows, the water is playful and even the breeze is urging me to “Get close to him!”]

The accompanying picture showed the backs of the two of them, hand in hand, treading water, making faces at the camera and holding coconuts to shield their faces.

Even with his face obscured, I still recognized my husband, Godfrey. The department director sent me the promotion list. I crossed out Cassandra and Godfrey’s names and asked them to undergo review.

My daughter was gone and those who harmed her would be buried with her!

——

After signing the list and handing it to the department director, I said hoarsely, “Follow the procedures.”

My phone vibrated on my desk and the words “mother-in-law” flashing on the screen made my fingertips chill.

I thought it was Godfrey and even a flash of absurd anticipation flashed through my mind. I hoped he’d just pretend to ask about Anastasia’s funeral.

When I picked up the phone, Laurel’s voice came crashing down on me. “Jessica, don’t be too sad. You’re still young and healthy. Just have another child. A woman needs a son to feel complete. I told you to have another, but you wouldn’t listen…”

There wasn’t a word of comfort, only resentment, as if Anastasia’s death was insignificant. I gripped the phone, my knuckles whitening, my voice cold as ice. “Are you done?”

She paused for a moment, then raised her voice, “What’s with that attitude? I’m trying to persuade you and you’re pretending to be so cocky? Our family doesn’t owe you anything!”

“Not owe me anything?” I laughed, a bitter laugh. “Go ask your son if he owes me and Anastasia.”

Before she could curse again, I hung up.

The past flooded back like a tide.

Godfrey had nothing when he graduated. I used my family connections to get him a job at an international group. His current position, which earned a million dollars a year, was built step by step by me.

The down payment for the riverside retirement apartment he bought for Laurel was mostly my savings.

They seemed to have forgotten everything. I had forgotten how, when I was pregnant with Anastasia, I braved torrential rain and traveled across three cities to win back clients, only to develop a persistent fever and a chronic illness.

I had forgotten how Anastasia’s health was frail after she was born and how I hired the best doctors and bought the most expensive medicine, only for Godfrey to say I was making a big deal out of nothing.

I had forgotten how every time Laurel came home, I’d fill my suitcase with her favorite snacks, only for her to turn around and tell the neighbors I was “stingy.”

The post on WhatsApp status was still lingering on my front page. Against the azure sea and sky of the Maldives, Godfrey still wore the birthday watch I gave him last year.

I opened the chat with him and typed one word: [Divorce.]

The phone rang almost immediately. As soon as the call was connected, Godfrey roared, “What’s wrong with you? Do you know how expensive long-distance roaming is?”

“Long-distance?” I stared at the couple’s photo and emphasized each word. “Is it the Maldives? Is the beach fun?”

His voice hitched for a moment, then rose an octave, “What nonsense are you talking about! I’m out of town discussing work with my boss! If you have anything, talk to me when I get back!”

A busy tone suddenly sounded.

I stared at the darkening screen, my last shred of hope extinguished.

Alright, all the affection, all the concessions, died the moment Anastasia stopped breathing.

All that remained was revenge.

I opened my address book, found the number of the head of the internal investigation team and typed a text message: [Regarding Godfrey and Cassandra’s suspected embezzlement of public funds for travel, with attached evidence.]

Attached were screenshots of Cassandra’s WhatsApp status and the reimbursement form for Godfrey’s false travel expenses. And there was that dashcam video of him saying to Cassandra while taking a detour last night. “I’ll fly over to you as soon as I finish my family stuff.”

When the successful delivery notification popped up, the rain began to fall outside the window again, just like the day I braved the rain to run a business trip.

But this time, I was no longer the woman who got wet for him.

I wanted them to pay back what they owed me and Anastasia, bit by bit, with interest!

While sorting through Anastasia’s belongings, my fingertips brushed against her little dinosaur onesie; the fabric still lingered with a faint scent of milk.

In the frame, she smiled and held a lollipop, her eyelashes stained with stars. I reached out to touch it, but my fingertips clashed against the cold glass.

A knock on the door suddenly boomed, as rapid as a death sentence.

Through the peephole, Godfrey’s face flushed crimson. Cassandra stood beside him, her arm affectionately entwined with his, her fingers gently caressing his sleeve. I opened the door and a cold wind blew in, carrying dust from the corridor.

Cassandra seemed to have just realized what was happening. She let go of his hand, her fingertips curled at her side, an innocent smile on her face.

“Jessica, what a coincidence! I live nearby and Mr. Walters was stopping by to give me a ride.”

As she was about to leave, she reached into her designer bag and pulled out a bunch of keys. She held them between her fingers and shook them. “Mr. Walters, I left your keys with me. I’m giving them back to you.”

The peace locket hanging from the keychain was something I had asked for for Anastasia last year. Later, Godfrey said, “It’s tacky for a child,” and tossed it into a drawer.

I looked at Godfrey. His eyes evaded her for a moment. He took the keys with a hint of impatience, then waved Cassandra away.

The moment the door closed, I caught a glimpse of Cassandra’s gaze as she turned, a provocative smile on her lips. “Did you already know the company was going to investigate me?” Godfrey’s voice bombarded me, tinged with the humiliation of being caught.

“Come in if you have something to say.” I stepped aside to let him in, my eyes scanning the lingering scent of perfume on his shirt. “Don’t embarrass yourself in front of outsiders.”

“There’s nothing between Cassandra and me!” He immediately raised his voice, as if afraid the neighbors would overhear. “I just dropped her off on the way. Don’t get too carried away.”

“On the way?” I picked up Anastasia’s photo album and sneered inwardly. “From the Maldives to here. It’s quite far.”

He choked, then suddenly changed his expression, his tone threatening.

“I know you’re close to the top management. This review is serious. Help me find someone.

If anything happens to me, wouldn’t your current house and car be thanks to me? You’ll be left with nothing!”

I looked at him and suddenly laughed out loud. He probably forgot that I bought this house in full before we got married and only my name was on the title deed.

The car he drove was my father’s old Bentley, which he thought was too old, so he traded it in for a new one, which I also paid for.

He also forgot that the chairman of the international group he currently worked for was listed in my mother’s name.

Before his death, my father entrusted the company to a trust company, waiting for the official handover on my twenty-fifth birthday.

Three days later was my birthday.

A month ago, Uncle Homer and Group President Oliver, began submitting the annual financial report and departmental personnel updates to me.

I had originally planned to surprise him by confessing at the birthday party, but now it seemed he didn’t have the patience.

“I can’t help you with that,” I said and closed the photo album, my voice as calm as a still pool of water.

“You!” He was completely furious. He reached out to overturn the table, but stopped abruptly when he saw Anastasia’s urn on it. Then, like a broken jar, he pointed at the door and yelled, “Get out! Get out of this house!”

I bent down and picked up Anastasia’s belongings. Inside were her unfinished cookies and a crooked family portrait she’d drawn—her father was just a blurry silhouette.

As I reached the door, my phone rang. It was Homer.

“Miss,” he said hesitantly, “Godfrey’s investigation... are we really going to continue? He’s your husband, after all.”

The wind from the hallway blew in, ruffling my hair across my forehead.

I stared at my reflection in the elevator, tears in my eyes, only a frozen coldness.

“Uncle Homer,” I said softly, each word clear and distinct, “Business is business.”

The moment the elevator door closed, I thought I heard something shattering inside.

But that no longer mattered. From the moment he deliberately took the detour, from the moment he said, “It's a relief,” this man was already dead...

The hotel room our assistant had booked faced south. The sunlight fell on Anastasia’s small pillowcase, casting a warm, pale yellow glow.

I was staring blankly at that warm glow when my phone rang. Laurel’s voice, amplified with a deliberately weak tone, emerged from the receiver:

“Jessica... Mom’s dying... She’s in the hospital awaiting surgery... Come see me one last time…”

My heart suddenly clenched.

Even though she could be so mean, the words “Mom” and “dying” still made me panic.

I grabbed my bag and rushed out. My assistant called from behind, “Miss, do you want a driver?” I waved my hand, the only word on my mind being “hospital.”

The private hospital’s VIP ward was on the 18th floor. As the elevator doors opened, I ran into Cassandra, emerging, holding a glass of water.

Seeing me, the concern on her face instantly gave way to a smug smile. She stepped aside to let me in. “Jessica, are you here? Auntie just woke up and hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

In the ward, Laurel, half leaning against the headboard, her face flushed, was about to accept the apple offered by Cassandra. She barely glanced at me as I entered. “You’re finally here, empty-handed?”

On the bedside table were flowers and a fruit basket, clearly brought by Cassandra.

I didn’t respond, my gaze scanning the medical record on the bedside table—laparoscopic appendectomy, day one post-op.

When I received the call, I immediately called the director. This hospital was a high-end branch of a group.

The director personally arranged for the best surgeon and the surgery was scheduled in less than ten minutes.

When I arrived, the surgery had just concluded and the nurse said, “The patient is doing very well. Minimally invasive surgery is recovering quickly.”

It turned out that “almost dying” meant that she needed praise after minimally invasive surgery.

“Thanks to Cassandra,” Laurel said and took a bite of her apple, her voice resonant and uncharacteristically patient. “She’s busy running around, taking care of the paperwork and even wiping me down and giving me water. She’s more attentive than my own daughter. Unlike some people who just stand around.”

Cassandra lowered her head and looked embarrassed, but gently patted the back of Laurel’s hand.

“Auntie, don’t say that. This is what I’m supposed to do.”

“Your job?” Laurel’s eyes lit up. She suddenly grabbed Cassandra’s hand and raised her chin towards me.