Freya’s POV

After the hospital check up, I took my daughter home.

Once I’d settled her in, I went upstairs to start gathering our documents.

That was when I suddenly heard a voice behind me.

“Freya, what are you doing?”

I paused for a heartbeat, forcing down the wave of hatred in my chest, and answered evenly, “I’m packing our documents.”

Rodney didn’t sense anything amiss.

As always, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me from behind.

I hadn’t expected it and couldn’t dodge in time. His embrace closed around me completely. But the moment the scent of Harper’s perfume—so distinctly hers—hit my nose, I nearly gagged.

He didn’t notice my stiff reaction and went on speaking as if nothing were wrong.

“Freya, I’m just so relieved you and our daughter are safe. I never imagined something would happen at the amusement park. If I had known, no matter how urgent work was, I would never have left you two behind.”

His tone carried lingering fear, his words spoken with such conviction.

But knowing the truth, I felt nothing at all.

I lifted my gaze to him. Rodney’s expression was as gentle as ever.

These arms had once been a safe harbor for me and my daughter.

Now, they were the very weapon poised to destroy us.

The thought made me lower my eyes. Without a trace of emotion, I slipped his arm away from my waist.

“It’s fine. Your work is important. My daughter and I are safe.”

Rodney, long accustomed to my understanding nature, frowned slightly and put on a show of pained sincerity.

“How could work ever be more important than you and our daughter? I honestly don’t know… If, after losing our son, I were to lose you two as well—how could I go on living?”

At the mention of our dead son, I couldn’t stop the flash of hatred that passed through my eyes.

Before I could speak, his phone rang.

He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and gave me a smile.

“It’s someone from the company. I’ll step outside to take this call.”

I nodded calmly, though my nails dug so deep into my palm that they drew blood.

When he raised the phone, I caught the name flashing on the screen—exactly as I expected. It was Harper.

From outside came his hurried, anxious voice. For some reason, my stomach tightened with unease.

A moment later, he stormed back in, eyes blazing, and without warning, he slapped me hard across the face.

“Why did you lay a hand on Harper? She’s pregnant right now! If anything happens to her, I’ll make you pay with your life!”

I clutched my cheek, staring at him in utter disbelief.

The moment he saw the mark blooming across my skin, he froze.

Something flickered in his eyes—something complicated. He reached out, as if to touch my face.

But before his fingers could graze my skin, the phone rang again.

He gave me one long, heavy look, and then he turned and walked out.

I bolted downstairs, intent on grabbing my daughter and leaving this hell.

But I hadn’t even reached the front door before Rodney caught me, his grip on my arm like iron.

Without a word, he dragged me and Farrah toward the car. No matter how hard she cried, he refused to let go.

Freya’s POV

By the time I snapped out of my daze, we had already arrived at the same amusement park we went to on our anniversary.

The roller coaster, still hanging midair from the earlier accident, remained unfixed. In one swift motion, Rodney wrenched my daughter out of my arms.

“Tell me where Harper is,” he growled, “or you’ll regret it!”

Clutching my daughter tightly, he boarded a helicopter. As it rose higher and higher, my heart lurched. And then—without a shred of hesitation—he placed Farrah back into that same faulty roller coaster.

She had already been traumatized by it once.

Now, she wailed uncontrollably.

Her cries tore through me, each sob shredding my chest. Watching the roller coaster sway slightly under his manipulation, I could barely breathe.

“I don’t know anything, Rodney!” I screamed hoarsely. “I don’t care who kidnapped Harper—just put my daughter down now!”

I was nearly hysterical.

But the tender, doting father from earlier was gone. In his place stood a cold, unfeeling man, his expression like stone as he deliberately rocked the car.

“I’ll give you ten seconds,” he said flatly. “And I’ll keep shaking it harder each time I count.”

True to his word, he increased the force.

I stared at my daughter, her sobs breaking into hiccups, my nails digging deep into my palms. He showed us no mercy—none at all. My chest ached so violently I thought I might faint.

Seeing her tiny body tremble, her cries nearly turning into convulsions, my tears finally spilled over.

“Rodney, I truly don’t know! I have no idea where Harper is! Please, just bring our daughter down—she can’t take this anymore!”

My plea didn’t move him in the slightest. He simply kept counting, voice as cold as steel.

“Eight.”

Just earlier, at home, he had apologized for what happened on the roller coaster.

And now—because of Harper—he had become the executioner, personally threatening us.

I broke into a scream. “Rodney! Go check! Look at the surveillance footage! I didn’t kidnap Harper! Please, let Farrah go! She’s your child too! She’s about to collapse! I’m begging you—please!”

I even dropped to my knees in desperation.

But he didn’t so much as glance at me. The cold, relentless countdown continued.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I scrambled toward the roller coaster, trying to climb up.

He watched me with icy detachment.

Just as the countdown neared its end, my fingers brushed the edge of Farrah’s car. My heart leapt—I reached out without a thought for my own safety, desperate to pull her free.

But in the next instant, Rodney yanked me back onto the helicopter, and, with a sharp crack, he slapped me hard across the face.

“Are you insane? Climbing that high—what if you fell?”

For a brief moment, his eyes betrayed a flicker of worry.

But I could no longer believe in him.

Gripping his sleeve, I choked out, “I’m begging you, Rodney. Do whatever you want to me. Blame me for kidnapping Harper if you must. Just let her go—I’ll take Farrah’s place in that car if that’s what you want.”

He gripped my sleeve tightly, roaring, “For the sake of that bastard you had with Macsen, you’d even throw away your life? Then why did you marry me?!”

With that, he shoved me toward one of his bodyguards.

“I won’t let that bastard live. You’d better tell me where Harper is, or else, I’ll make that bastard pay with her life!”

I thrashed against their hold, tears streaming freely.

“I really don’t know! After we got off the roller coaster, we went straight home! I never had the chance to kidnap Harper! Farrah’s your daughter, Rodney! You can do a DNA test if you don’t believe me! But please, let her go now!”

I wailed, throwing my dignity into the dirt for him to trample.

And still… he refused to believe me.

Freya’s POV

Rodney heard my words. But instead of calming down, his fury only intensified. With a sudden and violent shove, he pushed hard against the roller coaster car.

Farrah had already lost consciousness completely. Her small body began sliding toward the edge.

Beneath her was nothing but a thousand-meter drop. One fall, and there would be nothing left of her.

A madness took hold of me. I struggled like someone possessed, desperate to pull her back—but the hands restraining me refused to loosen.

Rodney merely stood there, watching my frantic struggle with cold detachment, as though he were watching some circus performance.

At that moment, I understood—he had never once truly cared about me or our daughter.

“I’ve already done the paternity test, Freya,” he said, his voice cruel and unyielding. “Your words mean nothing now.”

He announced that false result with merciless finality.

I couldn’t understand why the paternity test—false as it was—had turned his attitude so vicious. But I was certain, beyond all doubt, that my daughter was his flesh and blood.

Before I could speak, his phone rang again. It was his assistant.

A flash of urgency crossed Rodney’s face. He answered quickly, and because he stood so close, I could hear every word.

“Sir, we’ve located Ms. Driscoll. She was being held in an abandoned factory. Luckily, we got there in time. If we didn't, I’m afraid her child wouldn’t have made it. She’s been sent to the hospital now.”

The moment he heard the child was safe, the tension in Rodney’s face eased.

But when his gaze swung back to me, it turned cold again—cold and full of rage.

“I never imagined you could be so vicious, Freya. You’ll pay for this.”

“No! It wasn’t me! You can investigate if you want! It wasn’t me!”

Panic surged through me. I clutched at the leg of his trousers, desperate for him to believe me.

But he kicked me away without hesitation. And then, before my horrified eyes, he struck the final blow to my daughter, who was barely clinging to the car.

“No!”

I watched her slip away, falling from the roller coaster.

With the last of my strength, I broke free from the grip holding me and hurled myself forward, ready to follow her—ready to leave this world with her.

But a hand shot out from behind me, seizing me in a crushing grip.

I turned my head to see Rodney, the veins in his arm bulging as he dragged me back. Remembering how mercilessly he’d just treated our daughter, I bit down hard on his arm.

But he didn’t let go. Even through the pain, he pulled me all the way back into his arms.

He held me tightly, his tears falling hot against my neck.

“It’s fine,” he whispered harshly. “That little brat is dead, and that’s how it should be. Only with her gone can we start over. This… This is the price you had to pay.”

I thrashed and fought with everything I had, but his strength was overwhelming.

As darkness closed in on me, my unwilling eyes searched the ground below—desperately, hopelessly—trying to catch even the faintest glimpse of my daughter.