I should've woken up a long time ago.

Liam changed ages ago, but I didn't see it.

My mom worked as a maid for the Harringtons. Ten years ago, during a break-in, she gave her life to protect Liam. The family showered me with gratitude.

"Sweet child, without your mother, we wouldn't be here today."

Even Liam, usually all cool and reserved, took my hand and promised, "Andrea, don't worry. I'll protect you forever."

Turns out, I was the only one who believed it.

Back then, he treated me well, and I fell hard. I had Millie before we even got married, sure that love and marriage would follow.

But once he took over the company, another woman started creeping into his life.

Vivian's name kept popping up. He'd go on about her intelligence, her "understanding nature." He couldn't even hide the grin on his face when he talked about her.

Once, I couldn't help it and asked, "Liam, could we just... not talk about Vivian tomorrow?"

He looked surprised, then chuckled. "Are you jealous?"

I brushed it off, telling myself it was all just business.

But then there was a smudge of makeup on his suit, the strange perfume in his car. He missed Millie's kindergarten activity because he was "walking dogs" with Vivian. And when I had a fever, he barely glanced at me before running off to tend to Vivian's "terrible cramps."

The signs were all there. I couldn't keep pretending.

"Liam, what's really going on between you and Vivian?"

He didn't even try to lie. "You're not my wife. What right do you have to question me? I support you and Millie—be grateful. I don't owe you anything."

I bit my lip, swallowing the shame. To him, I was just a hidden lover, a secret to keep quiet. His kindness had always been charity.

Then Millie was diagnosed with leukemia, and her health started slipping. By then, Liam had stopped coming around entirely.

For her fifth birthday, Millie wished for one thing—to celebrate with her dad. But on the day, Liam chose a trip with Vivian, leaving her wish unanswered.

Desperate, I begged him over the phone. "Millie doesn't have much time left. She just wants one birthday with you. Please."

He laughed coldly. "Really? This your latest stunt? Using your dead mom wasn't enough, now it's our daughter for pity? Disgusting. Don't mess with her head. Learn from Vivian—she's got a real heart."

"Please," I begged, holding back tears. "I'm not lying. Millie really is dying."

He sneered. "Then let her die."

That night, Millie took her last breath in my arms.

That morning, I'd dressed her in her favorite dress. She was so thin, barely a wisp, but she stood on her tiptoes, touched my face, and tried to comfort me. "Don't cry, Mommy. Do I look pretty?"

Before they wheeled her into the ER, she clutched my hand tight. "I haven't seen Daddy yet... I don't want to go in. Mommy, Daddy's coming, right?"

Swallowing my tears, I promised her he'd be there when she came out.

The doors closed, and I broke down.

Later that night, Vivian posted: [Finally taking that couples' trip someone promised me!] with a photo of their hands intertwined.

How could I tell Millie? Her dad was miles away, wrapped up in his trip with Vivian.

In her last moments, Millie managed a tiny smile and whispered, "Daddy's late. I'm so tired, Mommy. I'll just take a nap... Wake me up when he gets here, okay?"

Back home, I found myself saying, "Millie, be good. Mommy's making your favorite for dinner tonight—baked ribs."

Silence answered me.

That's when I remembered—Millie was gone.

Just like my mother before her. Everyone I love slips away, leaving me alone.

My strength gave out, and I collapsed onto the bed, clutching Millie's favorite doll, holding it tight as if her scent still lingered on it.

Millie had always been so easy to reassure; she believed anything I told her. Every birthday, she'd sit on her little stool, waiting for her dad. And every year, Liam never showed.

When she was diagnosed, I called him over and over as her birthday came up, but he never answered. So I put on a smile and said, "Daddy's on a secret mission and can't be here, but he sent you a special gift." Then I handed her the doll.

Millie hugged that "gift from Daddy" right up until her last breath.

I used to tell myself Liam just wasn't one for remembering birthdays. But one day, I saw him post a picture celebrating Vivian's niece. The room was packed with plush toys, covering every inch of the place.

So he did remember birthdays. He just didn't care about ours.

Then I heard the front door code beep.

I barely made it out of the bedroom before Liam grabbed me by the throat, slamming me against the wall. Pain shot through my back.

"Where are you hiding Millie?" His voice was like ice. "Why did the school say she hasn't attended in over six months?

"Your mother gave her life for me, and for ten years my family's looked after you. Wasn't that enough?

"I put up with you using Millie to cling to me, and now what? Trying to force me to marry you by hiding her?"

The pain in my chest and throat was crushing; I couldn't even gasp for air.

My Millie—she could barely stand, let alone go to school. She waited for him until her last breath, and he never showed.

I remembered her birthday, just a week before she died. Liam had promised to visit, and she sat by the window, her face lighting up when she saw him heading toward the building. She clapped, smiling—right as he turned and walked away.

Later, I learned why. Vivian had called him, drunk and crying. "Liam, I know I shouldn't love you, but I can't help it," she'd sobbed.

He didn't even bother apologizing for breaking his promise, brushing it off with, "Millie has you, doesn't she? Just give her extra vitamins or something. Vivian was on the roof—I couldn't risk her doing something reckless."

Hot tears blurred my vision, and his grip loosened. For a split second, he lifted his hand, like he might actually wipe away my tears.

But then Vivian's cold gaze cut between us, freezing his hand midair. "Liam, can't you just talk things over calmly?

"Andrea, did he hurt you? Don't blame him—he's just worried sick about Millie.

"I know you don't want to let her go with him, but hiding her isn't the answer."

A bitter laugh slipped out. I turned to Liam. "Why is she even here?"

His expression turned steely. "You should be grateful she is. If it weren't for Vivian, I might've choked you to death tonight. Now, tell me—where is Millie?"

Through my tears, I started to laugh. "Do you really want to know?"

Seeing me laugh only seemed to boost his confidence. He smirked. "Have I been too soft on you? You think you can pull this kind of stunt with me? I'm telling you, if I don't see Millie today, you're out of this house."

That suited me just fine. I didn't want to stay here another second. I turned and started packing.

Liam's anger only flared more, though he and Vivian didn't stop their little duet.

"Liam, where will Andrea go?" Vivian asked, pretending to care. "She probably doesn't even have enough money to rent a place."

Liam scoffed. "If she's that desperate, she can come begging. Tell me where Millie is, Andrea, and I might throw you a few scraps for old time's sake."

I ignored them both. He still thought I was using Millie to manipulate him.

As I carefully packed a framed photo of Millie from the living room, Vivian reappeared from the bedroom, holding Millie's doll like a trophy, a smug smile on her face as she presented it to Liam.

"Liam, this doll is so vintage. It reminds me of toys I had as a kid. Look, it even has those little dimples on her face! Don't you think it looks a bit like me?"

Liam chuckled, patting her head. "If you like it, it's yours."

My hands clenched. I stepped forward, glaring at him. "That's Millie's favorite toy. What gives you the right to give it away?"

His response was as callous as ever. "It's a raggedy doll. What's it worth, anyway? Why are you so worked up? I could buy Millie a whole room full of dolls—she'd be thrilled and wouldn't care about this worthless thing."

Before he could finish, I grabbed a heavy ornament from the table and hurled it at him. He wasn't quick enough; the sharp edge hit his forehead, and blood started trickling down.

Vivian's face went pale. "Have you lost your mind? You hit Liam over a stupid doll?"

Vivian threw herself into his arms, tears streaming as she fussed over his injury. "I'm sorry, Liam. This is my fault. I shouldn't have taken Andrea's things."

Liam's face darkened, and in a burst of anger, he tore the doll's arm clean off and tossed it at my feet.

Just like Millie's life—once gone, it was gone.

A wave of helplessness washed over me. I had nothing left.

The room buzzed around me as I lifted my hand and slapped Vivian across the face, shouting, "That was Millie's keepsake! I hate you both!"

I raised my hand again, but this time Liam caught my wrist mid-air. Vivian buried her face in his chest, her eyes glinting with smug satisfaction.

I glared up at him. "Millie is dead. You could buy a thousand dolls now, and it wouldn't matter. Are you happy?"

His face went ice-cold. "Millie is your daughter too, but all you ever do is curse her. Do you even have a heart? She's probably as messed up as you made her. Since you're so hopeless, get out. Millie has no mother now!"

Suddenly, his phone rang, cutting through the tense silence. He answered, and his grandmother's voice came through, sharp and unmistakable.

"Liam, where were you on Millie's birthday?"

He kept his face blank. "Grandma, you're back? I was busy with work that day—couldn't get away."

"You fool! Do you even know that was Millie's last birthday? She died that very day!"