When I returned home with my daughter's ashes, Jordan was dining with Mallory and Christian at the table.

The three of them were having a pleasant meal, looking like a happy family.

Jordan glared at me as he saw me by myself, still clutching a box. "Didn't I tell you to bring her back with you?"

I remained silent. Jordan wouldn't believe anything I said anyway.

Better to save my words and wait until I am completely out of here.

I turned and went upstairs to find my ID.

The door opened. Mallory folded her arms, a smug smile evident on her face. "Roxanne, watching your own daughter die in front of you must feel so powerless, right?"

"Why did you do this?" I asked calmly.

At the same time, I glanced down at the phone recording I had already activated. Seeing "Recording in progress," I finally felt at ease.

Mallory smiled smugly. "Of course, it's because you got in the way. If you hadn't stolen this marriage from me back then, the current Mrs. Stanton would be me."

Suddenly, I remembered a news report I had seen a few days ago stating that Jordan and Mallory were a couple and their relationship had even progressed to marriage.

Neither of them had denied it.

At the time, I had approached Jordan, but he had impatiently replied, "It's just nonsense from some marketing accounts. Why bother paying attention to it?"

Meanwhile, when we were dating, any media reports about us would disappear within ten minutes.

Even after Jordan married me, he didn't publicly announce our marriage.

He said, "There's no need to make a big deal out of marriage. As long as our close friends know, that's enough."

So in the eyes of the public, Jordan was seen as a golden bachelor. But now, with Mallory by his side, he has become a "married man."

Mallory raised an eyebrow in disdain. "Of course, I can't stand you. Why should I exist just for you?"

"Just because I'm not a biological child of the Storm Family, does that mean I don't deserve a better husband?"

"What you have, I want too. If I can't get what you have, I'll take it by force. If I can't take it, I'll destroy it."

Listening to her near-mad speech, my heart was filled with mixed emotions.

When I was three years old, my parents gave me a little sister. Unfortunately, the baby suffocated and died due to the umbilical cord being wrapped around her neck.

My parents then took me to an orphanage to choose a little girl to be my sister. In the crowded room, I immediately spotted two-year-old Mallory in the corner.

From that moment on, the gears of fate began to turn.

Mallory's eyes flickered.

Thud!

Mallory covered her face and fell to the ground, sobbing. "Roxanne, I know you've never liked me. If you have any complaints, you can come to me. Don't go after Christian, okay?"

"If you don't like us staying here temporarily, I can take my son and leave."

"I just beg you not to target me anymore. You can make me do anything."

"Roxanne, how could you hit someone?" Jordan's angry voice rang out.

Mallory was now cowering in Jordan's arms, covering her reddened face and crying silently.

Jordan frowned in pain, his eyes filled with hatred as he looked at me. "Roxanne, apologize immediately!"

"I didn't hit her," I tried to explain.

Mallory interrupted me, sobbing weakly, "Jordan, my sister wants to teach Christian a lesson because he broke her daughter's toy."

"As a mother, I naturally don't want to see my child harmed, so I came to beg my sister."

Jordan glared angrily. "Get out!"

I watched their back-and-forth with a calm expression, then turned around to pack my things and leave.

As I was about to go downstairs, a sudden force shoved me from behind. I lost my balance and tumbled down the stairs.

Blood flowed slowly, bathing my vision in crimson.

As Jordan carried Mallory down the stairs, he saw me lying on the ground and a flicker of pity flashed in his eyes.

Mallory whimpered, "It hurts so much. Could it be that my sister saw me injured and decided to fake a wound herself?"

In the last second before rolling down the stairs, I saw clearly that the person who pushed me was Christian.

The pain made it impossible for me to open my mouth.

Jordan hurriedly left with Mallory in his arms. He didn't spare me a single glance.

The last shred of concern in my heart vanished.

Looking down at the scattered ashes on the ground, I hurriedly reached out to scoop up my daughter's ashes.

The next moment, a pungent smell of urine assaulted my senses.

Six-year-old Christian laughed triumphantly, "You wicked woman, bullied my mom!"

"My dad said that from now on, I'm in charge of this family. Get out of my house!"

After delivering her harsh words, Christian stuck out her tongue at me, then turned and followed Jordan and the others out to get into the car and leave.

I didn't pay any attention to what she said. I just kept frantically trying to save my daughter's ashes.

In the end, I only managed to salvage one-third of the ashes; the remaining two-thirds were soaked in urine.

My daughter … I failed to protect her!

I couldn't save either of my children.

Numbly, I gathered the urine-soaked ashes from the ground, placed them in another small bag and sealed it for safekeeping.

I called a moving company and packed up all the things I needed, as well as everything related to my daughter, to take with me.

Before leaving, I placed two documents on the dining table. It was my final gift to Jordan.

Tomorrow is Jordan's 33rd birthday.

The rest of the clothes I had worn were all donated to children in poor mountain areas in my daughter's name, as a way of performing a good deed for her.

As I got into the moving company's car to leave, Jordan called.

"Roxanne, I acted impulsively today. I apologize to you."

"It's fine," I replied coldly.

Jordan didn't notice the change in my tone and continued, "Tomorrow is my birthday. Remember to make a reservation at that restaurant for me. I'll bring my parents along."

"Happy birthday. I've also prepared a gift for you at home." I thought of the two documents.

Jordan didn't notice my unusual behavior and assumed I had agreed to his request, so he casually said a few more words before hanging up.

I looked at the disconnected call and curled my lips into a cold smile. That restaurant was owned by his arch-rival and he couldn't bring himself to make a reservation there. So, he always had me do it for his birthday.

However, none of this concerned me anymore.

I took out the SIM card inside, then rolled down the window and tossed it out.

Saying goodbye to the past.

Jordan returned home at six in the morning the next day. He immediately noticed the two documents on the dining table.

Recalling what I had said yesterday, Jordan guessed this was the surprise I had prepared for him.

He opened it with eager anticipation, but upon seeing the words "Divorce Agreement" in large characters, he froze in shock.

"How could this be!"

Jordan reluctantly opened the other document, which neatly stated "Cremation Consent Form."