"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.

“I have a video of you neglecting Lily. She’s crying because she misses her mommy—and I’m the one trying to comfort her. Want to see it?”

Cassandra pressed play. Lily’s sobbing voice echoed from the phone’s speaker:

“Mommy… I want Mommy…”

Since the screen was angled toward me, I could clearly see what the others could not: Cassandra slapping Lily across the face, over and over.

That was the real reason Lily was crying for me.

But her cries were so loud, they drowned out the sound of the slaps.

“Lily, be a good girl,” Cassandra cooed on screen. “Your mom is busy right now. Auntie made you some mango purée—it’s super sweet. Come on, eat it all up, okay?”

A moment later, Lily’s sobbing ceased—not because she had calmed down, but because her throat was swelling shut.

I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms.

Cassandra knew exactly what she was doing. She knew Lily was severely allergic to mangoes.

Cassandra smugly pocketed her phone. The surrounding crowd, unaware of what the video actually showed, exploded in judgment.

“I’ve never seen a mother so cold-blooded. Working nonstop while her child cries for attention—what kind of woman does that?”

“If this young girl hadn’t been there to console the kid, the poor thing would’ve choked to death on her own tears!”

“Some people are saying she locked her kid in the trunk and left her to die. Honestly, I believe it. She probably wanted to get rid of the girl so she could chase some business deal!”

“This babysitter’s being accused of killing the child, but clearly, the real abuser is the mother. She shouldn’t be allowed to raise a goldfish, let alone a child. Someone should teach her a lesson!”

Fueled by grief and outrage, they pounced.

Slaps rained down on my face. Someone spat at me. Rotten eggs were hurled, exploding against my clothes and skin.

Sharp nails raked across my cheeks and arms, carving deep, bleeding gashes into my flesh.

I staggered under the assault, my vision swimming in pain and humiliation.

Desperately, I looked at Ben. He shifted slightly, but didn’t move to help me.

Cassandra leaned into him, pouting, her voice soft and manipulative.

“Ben, you said you’d always protect me. Shaw’s insults don’t matter to me—but if you step in now, it’s like admitting I’m guilty. What if the school finds out? My whole future will be destroyed. Would you really break your promise for her?”

Finally, Ben turned to me, his tone icy and void of sympathy.

“Serena, you were the one who started all of this by falsely accusing Cassandra. If you refuse to apologize, then you have to accept the consequences.”

I don’t know how long the beating lasted. Eventually, the angry mob tired out and dispersed.

Shaking, bleeding, I dragged myself up from the floor.

Ben stepped toward me and extended his hand.

“Come. I’ll help you clean up.”

I slapped his hand away and hissed,

“Ben, I’m divorcing you. I’m quitting the company. From this moment on, we are nothing but strangers.”

Rage flickered in his eyes.

“You’re leaving me? Serena, is that supposed to be a threat? You’re the one at fault. I’m just trying to make sure Cassandra gets a fair chance!”

I didn’t even look at him.

I gently picked up my daughter’s lifeless body, wiped the smudges from her tiny face, and walked toward the crematorium.

Ben tried to follow, but I spun around and shouted,

“Get out!”

He paused mid-step. Whatever words he had died on his lips as he met my eyes.

I didn’t glance back. I simply walked away.

That night, I sat outside the crematorium alone, listening to the quiet hum of machinery, my tears falling silently.

“Lily… I’m sorry. Mommy didn’t protect you... Mommy failed you...”

The next morning, I arranged for Lily’s urn to be stored temporarily at the funeral home.

I could no longer trust Ben. I had to leave this place. I had to get my mother and Lily far, far away—somewhere no one could hurt us again.

When I stepped outside, Ben and Cassandra were gone.

Lying abandoned on the ground was my phone.

The screen was lit up, showing thirty-six missed calls, all from the nursing home.

I immediately dialed the nurse, who picked up almost at once. Her voice came through, breathless and panicked:

“Ms. Shaw, why didn’t you answer earlier? Your mother… she attempted suicide. Her condition—her boss—”

I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I hung up and rushed outside to hail a taxi straight to the nursing home.

When I arrived, a nurse stood trembling by the ward door, her face Shaw, one hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting.

“Ms. Shaw… the scene inside is terrible. Please prepare yourself…”

The moment I stepped inside, the metallic stench of blood assaulted my senses.

The walls were stained deep red. My mother’s lifeless body knelt in front of the scorched microwave, charred and unrecognizable from the neck down.

“Why? Why did it come to this?!”

The nurse’s voice quivered as she explained:

“We… we don’t know. A group of men came last night claiming to be friends of Miss Quinn. They said they were asked to visit your mother on her behalf. They refused to let us monitor or guard the door.”

“Mr. Doyle gave strict orders that Miss Quinn’s instructions should be treated as his own. We… we didn’t dare disobey. The men stayed inside for a long time before they finally left. When I came this morning to change your mother’s dressings, I saw her kneeling, head inside the microwave. At first, I thought she was looking for something… but then it exploded.”

My mind reeled. A memory flashed through my head.

Before leaving yesterday, threatened and paranoid, I had quietly asked a sympathetic caregiver to install a hidden camera in the room.

I’d gone to the restroom to whisper the instructions, just in case Ben was still watching me.

That caregiver owed me a favor—and though she didn’t dare openly defy Ben, she still helped me this time.

I connected my phone to the feed and scrolled through the overnight footage.

What I saw made my blood boil and my vision go red with fury.

They humiliated my mother.

One of the men even leaned in and threatened her, his tone cruel and low:

“Old woman, we just filmed a video of you. If we release it online, do you think your daughter will survive the fallout?”

“Mr. Doyle’s only daughter now is Cassandra. He didn’t bat an eye when she killed your granddaughter. He even forced your daughter to hand over the evidence.”

“If you want to protect her reputation, you’d better convince her to divorce Mr. Doyle and leave his house quietly. Otherwise, we’ll make you and your daughter famous on the internet—and not in a good way.”

My mother sat silently through the night.

Then, just before dawn, she switched on the microwave.

As if she knew there was a camera in the room, she looked directly into the lens and smiled—a small, calm, heart-wrenching smile.

“Serena,” she whispered. “Mom didn’t do anything wrong, so I’m not afraid of their threats. But I know Ben’s using me to control you. I don’t care what the world says—but I can’t be your burden any longer.”

“Mom is leaving now. Go look after our Lily. You have to live, and you must stay far, far away from that monster. I’m sorry I brought this pain to you.”

I couldn’t bear to watch another second.

I fell to my knees and clung to my mother’s lifeless body, sobbing uncontrollably.

Just then, my phone rang. A strange number flashed on the screen.

“Hello? I found your daughter’s watch… It was lying in front of the Aurora Tower. Can you come and pick it up?”

My heart stopped.

That watch. It was my birthday gift to Lily—a custom smartwatch with a hidden video recording function. She never took it off unless absolutely necessary.

Could she have… left behind evidence?

After arranging for my mother’s body to be transported to the funeral home, I rushed to Aurora Tower to retrieve the watch.

When I turned it on, I found hundreds of video files stored inside.

Each one was damning.

Each one captured Cassandra’s cruelty—every slap, every threat, every manipulation. Including the footage from the day my daughter died.

Rage coiled in my chest like a firestorm ready to erupt.

I took out my phone and called Ben’s most relentless business rival—the man who had once promised that I’d always have a place at his side.

“You once told me your company would always welcome me—does that offer still stand?”

His voice on the other end was calm, even cheerful.

“Of course. My team and I are here in America right now, negotiating a few partnerships. You’re welcome to name your terms.”

“Then I need a favor. And I’ll make it worth your while.”

…

After the call ended, I drafted both my resignation letter and divorce petition. Then I headed straight to the office.

As I passed by the tea room, I caught sight of Cassandra chatting on the phone, her voice smug and gloating, completely unaware of what was coming.