“Ma’am, there’s a man waiting outside,” a maid said as I was finishing my makeup. I gave a nod and stepped out in my black dress.

Daniel drove us to the private cemetery, where the burial ceremony was brief and solemn. It was just a small gathering—Daniel, a few close maids who had cared for Lily, and me.

Their quiet sobs filled the air, but I felt empty. I had cried enough over the past few days; my tears had run dry.

After a few minutes, they left me alone with Lily’s grave. Daniel gave my shoulder a reassuring pat before heading back to the car.

I crouched beside the tombstone, my fingers brushing the fresh soil. I didn’t say anything; my heart was set on making sure Lily received the justice she deserved.

When I got home, I was completely drained. I found myself staring blankly at the living room where I used to teach Lily her alphabets, the garden where I watched her play, and, worst of all, her bedroom where I used to tuck her in and read her stories before bed.

Her things were scattered everywhere, a constant reminder of the little girl I’d lost. The memories seemed to close in on me from every corner, overwhelming me.

Feeling lightheaded, I reached out for the wall to steady myself. I called out for help, and a few maids hurried over.

“Ma’am, sit down. Someone, get her some water!” one of them said, her voice tinged with panic.

I pressed my temples and managed to say, “No, take me to my room. And please, get all of Lily’s things and put them in the attic. Everything. I can’t stand to see them right now.”

They paused for a moment, glancing at each other before agreeing and guiding me to my room. As we made our way, I heard a commotion downstairs and froze when I saw the last people I wanted to deal with right now: Michael and Allison. I rolled my eyes and steeled myself for what was coming.

Michael was helping Allison to the sofa, her arm around him for support. Both of them looked a bit disheveled, still in beach attire, which meant they had just arrived.

When they saw me, Michael’s gaze shifted away, and Allison looked momentarily caught off guard.

“Emma, I’m so sorry,” Allison began, her voice wobbly. “I fell and scraped my knee while we were out. Michael said—” She trailed off, looking to Michael for reassurance.

“Don’t make a scene, Emma,” Michael snapped, focusing on Allison’s injury and barking orders at the maids. It was as if I wasn’t even there.

“Don’t make a scene?” I pushed back, my voice tight. “You said you had work to do. Why are you with her?”

Michael sighed and just stared at me, clearly annoyed.

“Answer me, Michael!” I demanded, my teeth clenched.

“Come on, Emma,” he said dismissively. “I promised Allison first. We can always take Lily later. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

I felt my fingers clench into fists, the pain almost a relief from the anger boiling inside me. I was done with him treating us like we were nothing.

“You promised, Michael! You promised Lily!” I shouted, my voice cracking with frustration. Michael looked startled by my outburst. I had kept my composure through all his failings, but now, enough was enough.

“Why are you being so dramatic?” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“This is why I hate talking to you. You make me feel trapped in my own life. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’m sure Lily won’t mind,” he added, pulling out the first aid kit and starting to look for bandages and alcohol.

His nonchalant attitude was infuriating. It felt as if he was minimizing our grief and treating our suffering as a minor inconvenience, and I was done playing along with his twisted sense of priorities.

I let out a bitter chuckle. “You can’t make it up, Michael. Lily is dead.”

His eyes widened in disbelief, and anger flashed across his face. “I can’t believe you’d go this far, faking your own daughter’s death to make me feel guilty. What kind of mother are you? Watch your mouth!” he snapped, his voice rising.

I felt a surge of frustration, like I was trying to reason with a brick wall.

Before I could respond, Allison cut in with a disingenuous tone. “Listen, I know I shouldn’t have asked Michael to come with me, but you don’t need to fake something as serious as your daughter’s death. It could be a bad omen. What if something terrible happens later?”

Her innocent act was infuriating. This was the same Allison who had once been my close friend. She had deceived me before, crying and claiming there was nothing between her and Michael when I confronted her years ago.

But over time, it became clear she had been lying. Our friendship had shattered, and she had continued to play the victim, telling people I was the villain who had cut her off without a chance to explain. I had let it go because I wanted peace with Lily.

But now, she was accusing me of lying about Lily’s death and trying to dismiss it as a mere ploy.

My anger boiled over. Trembling with rage, I slapped her hard, the sound of the impact echoing through the living room.

The room fell into a heavy silence for a moment before Michael snapped out of his shock and rushed over to Allison. I couldn’t take it any longer. I turned and headed upstairs, ignoring Michael’s angry shouts and desperate calls.

Once I was in my room, I locked the door behind me and sank down onto the floor, burying my face in my hands.

Everything felt overwhelming and exhausting. I crawled to my bed, too drained to change out of my dress or wipe off my makeup, and tried to sleep.

The next morning, I came out of my room to find Allison sitting at the dining table. Michael was fussing over her, serving her a plate of what looked like a gourmet breakfast.

He didn’t even seem to notice my tear-streaked, swollen face.

I took a seat across from them, and Allison finally glanced my way with a faux-innocent expression. “Emma, you’re up. I stayed the night because Michael said I needed to rest. But don’t worry, I stayed in the guest room,” she said with a pitiful tone that made my skin crawl. I knew all too well what she was up to.

“No need to explain yourself, Allison,” Michael said abruptly.

Then, turning to me, he added, “You slapped Allison yesterday. Apologize now if you have any decency left.”

I rolled my eyes in disbelief. I couldn’t believe he was making this the issue first thing in the morning.

“No, really, Michael. I’m sure Emma is sorry for what happened. You don’t need to make her apologize to me,” Allison interjected, her Bambi eyes looking up at Michael with feigned innocence.

“Stop being nice to her. She doesn’t deserve it,” Michael snapped back.

I ignored their petty arguments and focused on serving myself some food. It had been a rough day yesterday, and I hadn’t even managed to have dinner.

Seeing my indifference, Michael’s frustration boiled over. He stormed over to me, yanked my arm, and dragged me roughly to stand beside Allison. My spoon clattered to the floor, and I felt a surge of annoyance.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shot him a furious glare.

“I said apologize to her!” Michael snapped, his voice cold and commanding. The room fell silent, the tension palpable.

I clenched my teeth, my voice trembling with anger, “And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll make you,” he said, pushing me roughly so that I fell to my knees on the floor.

He pinned my shoulder down, and I struggled to get up, but his strength was too much for me, especially now when I was physically and emotionally drained. Some maids approached, clearly concerned, but Michael’s roar sent them fleeing.

“I told you to apologize three times, and you’ve acted like a spoiled brat, ignoring me,” he growled. “Now, Allison, give her a taste of her own medicine. Slap her, just like she did to you!”

I was stunned. Michael’s demand was a punch to the gut. As I looked at his harsh, unfeeling face, the image I had of him for so many years shattered.

The man who used to stand up for me, who I had once loved deeply, was gone. Now, he was just a stranger—one who was asking another woman to slap his wife.

The protective and caring version of him that I fell for had long since vanished. In fact, I couldn’t even remember the last time he’d shown me any kindness after we were married.

It was clear that Allison had played a significant role in changing him, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he started to despise me so thoroughly.

After Michael’s harsh command, Allison finally slapped me across the face. The force of it made my head spin, and I ended up trying to steady myself with my hands on the floor.

But before I could even react, I heard Allison’s sobs.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she choked out, “I… I slapped my best friend. What kind of person am I?” She buried her face in her hands, and Michael rushed over to comfort her, wrapping her in a hug.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re too softhearted. It’s okay,” he said soothingly.

I stared in disbelief. I had learned the hard way how two-faced Allison could be, but this act of hers was something else entirely.

She had just slapped me, and now she was putting on a performance, crying and playing the victim. It was a new low, even for her.

I was on the verge of storming out, unable to stand being around them any longer. But before I could make my move, Michael grabbed my hand.

“Let me go!” I said, my voice cracking as tears started to well up in my eyes.

“Is this your new trick? Crying now?” Michael’s tone was dripping with provocation. “You failed to use Lily to threaten me, so now you’re just shedding fake tears?”

My chest tightened, anger rising like a wave. How dare he? How could he stand there, throwing accusations like that after everything? I wrenched my hand away from his grip, my voice shaking with rage. “Shut up! You don’t get to mention her name!”

Michael’s expression shifted to confusion and then anger. “Where is she? I haven’t seen Lily since yesterday!” he demanded, his gaze darting toward Lily’s room.

“Oh, so you’re just now noticing?” I snapped, rolling my eyes in frustration.

“You crazy woman! Where is she?” Michael’s voice rose in panic as he looked toward the direction of Lily’s room.

“I told you, she’s gone,” I said firmly.

Michael’s frustration reached a boiling point. He grabbed a maid and ordered her to bring Lily downstairs, but the maid just stood there, frozen, unable to meet his gaze.

Seeing that the maid wasn’t moving, Michael’s anger escalated. He stormed upstairs himself, searching Lily’s room. When he found it empty, with her things packed away as I had instructed, his face turned pale with shock.

“Where… Where’s she? Where’s Lily? Why is all her stuff gone?” he stammered, grabbing another nearby maid and shaking her for answers. The maid, clearly new and frightened, remained silent, unable to intervene in the family drama.

“Stop it! Let her go! She’s not going to answer you!” I yelled, my voice trembling with frustration. Michael’s gaze snapped back to me as he stormed down the stairs, his anger evident in every step he took.

“What’s this about? Where are her things? Where did you put her?” Michael demanded, looking more and more agitated.

I gave him a blank stare. Before I could say anything, Allison piped up, “Emma, you’re going too far. Don’t take Lily away from her father.”

The hypocrisy in her tone made me chuckle despite the situation. “Oh, please. Look at you, pretending to be all concerned. If you’re so eager to find her, go ahead and look yourself!”

Michael’s face reddened with anger. “Why are you only asking about her now? Where were you last week? Or yesterday? Where have you been her whole life?” I shot back, but he just pulled out his phone.

“My daughter is missing,” he barked into the phone. “Find out where she is now!” I crossed my arms and took a seat, trying to ignore the tension that was thick in the air. Michael paced the room while Allison glanced back and forth between us, clearly uncomfortable.

After a few minutes, Michael’s phone rang again.

He raised his phone to his ear, there was a voice coming from the other side of the phone, "Sir, your daughter died on her birthday due to an allergic reaction to nuts."

His eyes darted to mine, filled with horror and confusion. “No… No, that can’t be true. That’s… impossible,” he muttered, his voice barely audible now.

"It’s true," The person on the phone insisted, "Someone deliberately killed your daughter. The relevant evidence and suspect information have been sent to your email, please check."