The moment I returned from a business trip, I received the devastating news of my daughter’s death.

The dashcam footage revealed the truth—our part-time male nanny, annoyed by my daughter’s crying, had stuffed her into the car’s trunk under a scorching 38°C heat while he went off to shop leisurely.

In that sealed, oven-like space, her cries grew weaker and weaker until finally, they stopped altogether.

“Vance, I’ll help you seek justice for our child,” my wife, Cindy, gripped my hand, her voice was filled with heartbreak.

I nodded. I was determined to report the incident and press charges against the nanny.

But on the way to the police station, Cindy offered to grab me a bottle of water—only to lock the car doors the moment she stepped out.

“Eugene didn’t mean it,” she said coldly. “He just didn’t want our daughter growing up spoiled. I’ll talk to him, I promise.”

“He’s still in college. He can’t afford to have this kind of stain on his record. So what if we lost a child? We can always have another.”

To force me to hand over the evidence, she had secretly turned the air conditioning to maximum heat. Now, she stood outside the vehicle, watching as I struggled for air, gasping like a fish out of water, my vision blurred with sweat.

As I gasped for air, it finally dawned on me—Cindy had already changed. Completely.

——

The suffocating heat in the car wrapped around me like a noose. I could barely breathe. From outside, her voice came through the haze, cold and emotionless.

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

She’d even taken my phone to prevent me from calling the police.

I could barely see her face through the sweat stinging my eyes.

Just hours ago, this same woman had held my hand, vowing to help me fight for justice. Now, she was protecting the man who murdered our daughter.

I slammed my fists against the window, pointing at my pale, sweat-drenched face. My throat felt like it was shredding apart from dehydration.

“Cindy, look at me! This is what our daughter went through—trapped in the trunk, tortured by heat and suffocation until she died a horrific death!”

“You’re her mother—her favorite person in the world! How can you let her killer walk free? How dare you?!”

Cindy's eyes narrowed, full of icy detachment. “I told you not to use those filthy words on Eugene.”

“Louise always cried a lot. It’s your fault for spoiling her. Eugene was just trying to help discipline her. He did nothing wrong.”

“But he refused to take Louise to school! He went shopping instead—how can that be acceptable for a nanny?!” I thundered.

Cindy cut me off, her tone growing impatient. “She’s just in first grade. Being a few hours late won’t kill her. Eugene has worked hard taking care of her—he deserves a break.”

Rolling her eyes, she continued, “No one wanted this to happen. Just hand over the USB. Yes, we lost a child—so what? We can make another.”

“Eugene’s future is still ahead of him. I can’t let one mistake ruin his life.”

I stared at her, stunned by her twisted logic. A chill surged through my chest.

So in her eyes, my daughter’s life was worth less than Eugene’s future?

I didn't know where I found the strength, but I started pounding the window again, fists bleeding with every strike.

“Cindy, listen to me. Unless I die in this car today, I will make sure Eugene goes to prison!”

“My daughter will not die in vain! You’ll never get that evidence from me!”

My hands were now torn and bloodied, every movement draining the last of my oxygen. I could feel myself slipping.

Cindy frowned at the sight of my blood.

Just as I was about to lose consciousness, the door finally opened.

And the suffocating heat began to dissipate.

As Cindy switched the air conditioning back to cooling mode, she glared at me through clenched teeth.

“Vance, you’ve always been this stubborn. You forced me to do this!”

By the time I fully regained consciousness, I found myself outside my mother’s hospital room.

Cindy grabbed the back of my head and pressed my face against the glass.

Inside, several bodyguards were holding down my terrified mother, shoving her head toward a microwave.

With a flick of her fingers, one of them turned the dial all the way up.

I could already smell the acrid scent of singed hair in the air. I didn’t dare imagine what would happen if this continued.

Grabbing Cindy by the collar, I roared, “Have you completely lost your mind?! That’s my mother! Are you insane?!”

Cindy didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned down and kissed my bloodied fingers with a smile that chilled me to the bone.

“I had no choice, Vance. You’re too stubborn—and I couldn’t bear to let you die. So your mother will have to do it for you.”

Smiling, she held out her hand. “Hand over the USB, or watch your mother’s head explode into pulp. Think carefully.”

From inside the room my mother’s agonized screams continued.

“It’s burning! Let me go—please!”

Pain like knives stabbed through my chest. I shut my eyes in despair and choked out the words.

“The USB... it’s in the space between my phone and the case. Now let her go, please...”

Cindy retrieved the USB and gestured for the guards to stop. Then she lifted my chin and smiled sweetly.

“Without this, you can’t touch Eugene. And I’ve already spread the word—no lawyer in this city will dare take your case.”

Right before my eyes, she dropped the USB into the drain and flushed it away.

I watched her hand, and a wave of cold devastation slowly crept through my chest.

I had considered that Eugene might try to steal the evidence. I’d been so careful, keeping the USB with me at all times, thinking I could bring it to the police before he got the chance. I didn’t even make a backup.

But never, not even in my worst nightmares, did I imagine that the one who’d help him escape justice would be my own wife.

To protect him, Cindy didn’t hesitate to use my mother’s life—and the entire legal community of New Haven—as leverage.

Does this mean my daughter really died for nothing?

I tried to turn back toward the room to check on my mother, but Cindy yanked me by the wrist.

“Eugene knows you’re upset. He was worried you’d be too exhausted, so he went ahead and arranged Louise’s memorial. We should head there now.”

“And remember—her death was just an accident. I’ve already talked to him about it. I don’t want to hear another harsh word from you.”

...

On the way there, I stared blankly at the little crystal globe on the dashboard.

It was the first gift Cindy ever gave me. Inside the globe, two cartoon figures—modeled after us—stood locked in a gentle embrace. She had sculpted them by hand, stroke by stroke.

Back then, she wasn’t the powerful Cindy Contreras. She was just a withdrawn, isolated student in my mother’s class.

After her parents died in a car accident, her relatives swooped in and took all the compensation money. She couldn’t even afford tuition.

My mother took pity on her, using our family’s savings to help, and even let her move in with us.

During the darkest days of her life, I was afraid she might do something foolish. I stayed by her side, keeping her company, telling her jokes, helping her study—trying everything to bring light back into her world.

Eventually, Cindy fought her way back. We both got into the same university. After graduation, she started her own company.

The day her company went public, she finally worked up the courage to propose to me.

Her proposal came with an array of luxury gifts—and that crystal globe she made herself.

I still remember her kneeling on one knee in front of everyone, her voice trembling but filled with conviction.

“Vance, I know you don’t care for flashy gifts. But I got you those because I want you to have what other men have too.”

“This crystal globe... I actually finished it a long time ago. But I didn’t dare give it to you, because aside from my love, it doesn’t have any real value.”

"Now, I’m finally giving this to you," Cindy had said back then, placing the crystal globe in my hands. "Because I want you to know that in this lifetime, I’ll give you both a life of wealth and endless love—love that belongs only to you. I’ll stand by you as we take care of your mother. We’ll always be a family, and we’ll never be apart.”

But she didn’t keep her promise.

She fell for Eugene—the clumsy, part-time nanny we’d hired. Even though he repeatedly spilled scalding tea on me or accidentally dropped our daughter, she always defended him.

“Vance, Eugene is still young. He didn’t mean it,” she would say. “Besides, Louise is too delicate. A few knocks will toughen her up.”

“Doesn’t Eugene remind you of yourself when you were younger? Working odd jobs to make ends meet. You’ve been through storms too—don’t be the one to tear someone else’s umbrella.”

...

When we arrived at the funeral home, Cindy barked a few more warnings at me before yanking me inside roughly.

But as soon as I stepped into my daughter’s memorial room, I froze, utterly speechless.

The traditional white mourning banners had all been replaced with festive red decorations—it looked more like a wedding hall than a funeral.

From the speakers blared a cheerful song, A Good Day, drawing confused and disapproving stares from the people nearby.

And there—Eugene was sitting on my daughter’s corpse, giggling as he smeared her tiny face with lipstick, completely disfiguring her appearance.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I snapped.

I kicked over the sound system and rushed at him, yanking him off her body with all the strength I had.

Caught off guard, Eugene twisted his ankle and stumbled backward.

Cindy rushed to catch him, glaring at me with fury in her eyes.

“Vance! Did everything I just said go in one ear and out the other?! How dare you lay a hand on Eugene?! Apologize—now!”

“Are you blind, Cindy? This is Louise’s funeral!” I shouted, my eyes burning with rage. “And you let Eugene turn it into a celebration—defiling her body, playing wedding music, humiliating her! Is he cursing her even in death?!”

Even Cindy seemed momentarily stunned.

But Eugene quickly began to cry, his voice trembling as he spoke, “Mr. Santos, you were always busy with work and barely spent time with Louise. I was the only one who knew she loved the color red... and that song A Good Day. She’d ask me to sing it to her again and again.”

“She also loved playing makeup games with me. I just wanted her to leave this world happy, even if she was a bit spoiled and mischievous when alive. You can’t use your outdated traditions to erase what she loved.”

Cindy turned to me, her voice calm but cold.

“You heard him. Compared to you, a heartless father, Eugene clearly cared more about Louise. And you dare disrespect his kindness? Come on, apologize to him.”

I laughed bitterly, stunned by her audacity. I’m the heartless one? I didn’t care about Louise?

Despite the demands of my job, I’d been there for Louise nearly every step of the way—every school event, every doctor’s appointment, every sleepless night. I’d collapsed from exhaustion more than once trying to juggle the company and raising her.

And what about Cindy? Since the day our daughter was born, she’d always claimed she was too busy with work. She never changed a single diaper—not even once. What right did she have to stand here and judge me?

I pointed at Eugene, my voice shaking with fury.

“You filthy homewrecker, shut your mouth! If you hadn’t stuffed my daughter into that trunk, she wouldn’t have suffocated to death! And now you dare smear her memory, desecrate her body? Aren’t you afraid of karma?!”

The crowd began to swell, people murmuring and exchanging horrified glances.

Eugene curled his lips into a smug smirk.

“Mr. Santos, I was trying to save your dignity, but you just kept slandering me—accusing me of abusing Louise with no proof. Got any evidence?”

That’s right... The evidence. The USB... Cindy had already destroyed it.

Seeing the despair in my expression, Eugene’s smirk deepened. He pulled out his phone with a flourish.

“But I have proof—videos of you ignoring Louise, of her crying herself hoarse because she missed you. Want to take a look?”