Just after returning from a business trip, I was hit with the devastating news of my daughter’s death.

The dashcam footage revealed everything—our part-time babysitter, clearly annoyed by my daughter’s crying, had stuffed her into the trunk of the car in 38-degree heat just so she could shop in peace.

Inside that stifling, airless space, my daughter’s cries grew weaker and weaker until they faded away completely.

“Serena, I’ll stand by you—we’ll get justice for our little girl,” my husband, Ben Doyle, said as he held my trembling hand, grief clouding his eyes.

I was determined to call the police and press charges against the babysitter.

But on the way to the station, Ben made a stop, claiming he’d get me some water—and locked the car door behind him.

“Cassandra didn’t mean any harm. She just didn’t want your daughter growing up spoiled. I’ll talk her into apologizing,” he said.

“She hasn’t even finished college. You want this to ruin her future? You already lost one child. Just have another.”

To force me to give up the evidence, he secretly turned the air conditioner to full blast, watching me slowly dehydrate and struggle for air.

Only then did it finally sink in: Ben had already chosen a side—and it wasn’t ours.

——

The heat inside the car kept rising, and I gasped for breath like a fish flailing out of water, suffocation closing in.

Outside the car, Ben stood like a stranger, his voice disturbingly calm.

“Give me the USB with the dashcam footage, Serena, and I’ll let you out.”

He’d even snatched away my phone to keep me from contacting the police.

My vision blurred with sweat, making it hard to see the man who, just hours ago, swore to fight for our daughter’s justice—now shielding her killer.

I pounded on the window, pointing at my soaked, pale face, throat parched and cracking.

“Ben, look at me! Our daughter suffocated in the trunk—screaming, suffering!”

“You were her father. Her hero. How can you protect the person who killed her? How dare you?”

His eyes lowered slightly, a chilling coldness lingering there.

“I told you not to call Cassandra those filthy names,” he said.

“Lily Shaw’s always been a crybaby—that’s a bad habit you encouraged. Cassandra was just helping you discipline her. She meant well. Why blame her?”

“But Cassandra Quinn refused to take Lily to school and went shopping instead. As a babysitter—”

Ben cut me off sharply.

“Lily is only in first grade. Being a few hours late isn’t a big deal. Cassandra works hard taking care of her—it’s only fair she gets time to relax.”

“No one wanted this to happen. If you had just handed over the USB, it would’ve ended with a tragedy—but we could move on. We could try again.”

“Cassandra’s future is just beginning. I won’t let one mistake destroy her life.”

His words were grotesque, each one twisting deeper into my soul.

So, in his eyes, my daughter’s life was nothing compared to Cassandra’s future.

I don’t know where the strength came from, but I began punching the car window over and over.

“Ben, hear me clearly! Unless I die in this car today, I will see Cassandra behind bars!”

“My daughter’s death will not be brushed aside. I will never surrender that evidence!”

My fists were soon raw and bloodied, every strike worsening oxygen deprivation.

Ben frowned at the sight of my bleeding hands—but made no move to stop me.

Just as darkness started to close in, the car door suddenly swung open.

Cool air rushed in, and the suffocating heat began to fade.

Ben switched the air conditioner back to cooling mode, gritting his teeth as he glared at me.

“Serena, you’ve always been this stubborn! You left me with no other choice!”

When I regained consciousness, I realized he had already brought me to my mother’s hospital room.

Ben shoved my face against the small window on the door. Inside, I saw several bodyguards restraining my terrified mother, shoving her head toward a microwave.

He raised his hand in a signal, and the man inside twisted the microwave dial all the way to its maximum. I could practically smell her hair burning. If this continued, I didn’t dare imagine the outcome.

I lunged at Ben, grabbing his collar with all my strength, screaming,

“Are you insane?! That’s my mother, you lunatic!”

Ben looked down calmly, kissed my bloodied fingers with eerie tenderness, and smiled—like a devil in human skin.

“There’s nothing else I can do, Serena. You’re too stubborn. And I just can’t stand to see you die. So, I’ll let your mother die instead.”

“Give me the USB drive, or I’ll let them fry her brain until it bursts. Think very carefully.”

From inside the ward, my mother’s agonized cries rang out:

“It’s burning! What are you doing?! Let me go!”

A stabbing pain pierced through my heart. I shut my eyes tightly as despair overtook me, my voice cracking into a sob.

“The USB... it’s wedged between my phone and the case. Just let her go now—please.”

Ben took the USB, signaled his men to stand down, and lifted my chin with his fingers.

“Serena, without this, you can’t bring charges against Cassandra. And just so you know, I’ve already made sure no lawyer in Saltwater City will take your case.”

Right in front of me, he flushed the USB drive down a nearby drain. I stared at him, consumed by sorrow.

I had once feared that Cassandra might sneak into my home to steal the evidence, then rush to the police station without even thinking of backing it up.

But never—not in a thousand lifetimes—did I imagine that the one who would help her cover up the truth would be her husband.

To protect Cassandra, he didn’t just destroy evidence—he threatened my mother’s life and blackmailed every legal representative in Saltwater City.

Was my daughter’s death going to mean nothing?

I tried to go back into the ward to check on my mother, but Ben yanked my wrist.

“Cassandra knows you’re grieving. She wanted to help, so she’s taken the initiative to set up Lily’s funeral arrangements. Let’s head over.”

“And remember, I’ve told her it was just a tragic accident. Don’t say anything cruel to her again. I won’t allow it.”

On the way, I stared blankly at the crystal ball resting on the dashboard.

It was the very first gift Ben ever gave me. Inside the glass sphere, a tiny couple embraced lovingly—sculpted by his own hands, modeled after the two of us.

Back then, he wasn’t the powerful Mr. Doyle everyone feared. He was just a quiet, reclusive boy in my mother’s class—isolated, awkward, invisible.

His parents had died in a car crash, and greedy relatives had taken all the insurance money, leaving him unable to afford tuition.

My mother, moved by pity, used our family’s savings to support him and even let him live in our home.

In those bleak days, I feared he might collapse under the weight of everything. So I stayed with him every day—encouraging him, making him laugh, helping him with schoolwork.

He worked relentlessly, eventually getting accepted to the same university as me. After graduation, he founded his own company.

When the company finally went public, Ben knelt before me in front of everyone, surrounded by extravagant gifts, and handed me the crystal ball.

I still remember the tremble in his voice, thick with emotion and sincerity:

“Serena, I know you’ve always hated flashy gifts. I gave you those because other women like them—and I want you to have what others have.”

“But this crystal ball... I made it long ago. I never had the courage to give it to you because it holds no value—except for my love.”

"Now, I’m giving it to you—not just to show my love, but to promise that in this life, I’ll give you not only wealth and comfort but a love without end, one meant solely for you. I’ll honor your teacher alongside you, and our family will remain whole, never broken."

But those were just empty words.

He betrayed that promise.

He fell in love with Cassandra, our part-time babysitter—a girl so careless she constantly spilled scalding tea on my hands or, worse, intentionally splashed it on our daughter.

“Serena, Cassandra’s still young. She didn’t mean it,” Ben would say. “Besides, Lily can’t grow up too pampered. She needs to toughen up, or she’ll be useless in the future.”

He even defended her with poetic nonsense: “Doesn’t Cassandra’s struggle to make ends meet remind you of your younger days? You’ve been through the storm—why tear apart someone else’s umbrella?”

At the funeral home, Ben gave me another series of warnings before yanking me inside with rough impatience.

But when we stepped into my daughter’s memorial hall, I was stunned speechless.

The white coffin had been swapped out for one painted bright red—as if this were a wedding, not a funeral.

A cheery version of “Good Days” echoed from the speakers, drawing curious glances from the onlookers.

Cassandra, smiling brightly, was crouched over my daughter’s small corpse, smearing layers of lipstick on her tiny, lifeless face until she was unrecognizable.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

I kicked over the speakers in a frenzy and yanked Cassandra off my daughter’s body.

She staggered in her high heels, twisted her ankle, and stumbled back—right into Ben’s arms. He caught her swiftly and shot me with a venomous glare.

“Serena Shaw! Didn’t I make myself clear? And you still dared to lay a hand on Cassandra? Apologize. Right. Now!”

“Ben, are you blind?! This is Lily’s funeral, and Cassandra turned it into a wedding scene! She desecrated her body and blasted a pop song over her coffin! Is this how she honors a dead child, or is she trying to curse my daughter even in death?!” My voice cracked as I shouted, my eyes burning red with fury.

For a moment, Ben looked uncertain. But Cassandra was quick to act. She wiped her fake tears and looked at me pitifully.

“Ms. Shaw, you were always busy working, never home, never present for Lily. I was the one who stayed with her, who knew what made her smile. She loved the color red and adored the song ‘Good Days.’ She used to beg me to sing it for her all the time.”

“She also liked it when I played dress-up with her. I thought, maybe now that she’s gone, I could send her off with joy instead of grief. Just because you’re traditional and rigid doesn’t mean you get to rob a child of happiness, even after death, right?”

Ben turned to me, cold and composed.

“You heard her. Compared to you—the distant, heartless mother—Cassandra showed Lily more warmth and love. And after everything, you dare slander her? You should be the one apologizing.”

I let out a hollow laugh. Me? Cold-hearted? Indifferent to Lily?

Even with my workload, I was there for Lily from day one.

I handled her meals, her late-night fevers, and her schoolwork. I supported Ben’s startup while raising her on my own. I collapsed from exhaustion more than once.

And what about him?

Ben was always “too busy.” He never changed a single diaper. He didn’t even know her favorite bedtime story.

What right did he have to question my love for her?

I pointed at Cassandra, trembling with fury.

“Shut your filthy mouth, you shameless homewrecker! If you hadn’t stuffed my daughter into that trunk, she wouldn’t have suffocated and died! And now you have the audacity to mock her, smear her body, and pretend you’re the grieving one? Aren’t you afraid of divine punishment?!”

A crowd had begun to gather. Cassandra curled her lips into a smirk.

“Ms. Shaw, I tried to protect your dignity as a mother. But now, not only are you publicly insulting me—you’re making false accusations about child abuse. Do you have any proof of that?”

Yes, I did—once.

But Ben had already destroyed it, piece by piece.

Seeing my stunned silence, Cassandra’s smirk deepened. She slowly pulled out her phone.