Zara's POV

I'd been unconscious for a long time.

My mind drifted in a fog. Through the haze, fragments of the past surfaced like scattered reflections in a still pool of water.

I first met Trevor at the solo concert of the renowned musician James Kingston in the capital. That night, celebrities and elites from every field gathered to show their support.

At the time, the Langford Group was a small, struggling company.

My father could only afford a pair of seats tucked in the quietest corner of the auditorium. Naturally, the prestigious Gibson family sat front row center.

After the concert ended, Trevor was invited onstage for a surprise performance. Under the spotlight, dressed in crisp white, he stood tall and composed, refined, elegant, every bit the gentleman. He looked like he'd stepped out of a dream. Then he lifted the violin to his chin.

The melody he played flowed like a spring river—gentle, graceful, captivating. The entire audience was entranced.

At the age of eighteen, I deeply fell for him.

I asked around tirelessly until I got his contact information. But Trevor was cold and distant from the start, while I chased him with everything I had.

I immersed myself in music and studied under Sir James Kingston, all in the hope of finding something in common with Trevor—something to discuss.

I'd heard the rumors. He had a complicated first love, and it was a messy one.

Still, I chased him for four years with no results.

Just when I was about to give up, Trevor suddenly confessed to me.

It was a snowy Christmas Eve. He called me and told me to meet him somewhere.

The garden was glowing with decorations and warm light strung through the trees.

In the center stood a lush Christmas tree, and beneath it were twenty-two wrapped presents in different shapes and sizes.

"Zara," he said, "I wasn't there for the first twenty-two years of your life. But I don't want to miss a single year from now on."

Then Trevor knelt and offered a bouquet of winter roses, speaking sincerely, "Here. For you, Zara."

His eyes sparkled, clear and dazzling.

I brushed the snow off his shoulders and nodded, my tears sliding silently down my cheeks.

He lifted me into his arms and spun me in the air like a scene from a fairytale.

Not long after, we were married.

"I vow to be with Zara, never parting for life. And you, Zara?"

"Zara…" His voice had been so full of promise back then.

Then, I slowly opened my eyes.

"Zara, you're finally awake."

That familiar voice reached my ears.

Trevor...

So that voice hadn't been part of a dream. He was right beside me, holding my hand tightly. His eyes were red at the corners, like he hadn't slept.

"You're finally awake. I was so worried, Zara," my mom said, rushing toward me.

As tears brimmed in her eyes, she began explaining what had happened.

Apparently, I had collapsed in the mud last night from exhaustion during the storm. The rain had been relentless, so my mom had called Ethan for help. But before he could arrive, Trevor had pulled up in his car and carried me into it.

"You kept murmuring Katie's name the whole way," my mom added gently. "Luckily, Trevor arrived in time. He thought it best to take you back to the Gibson Manor to rest before deciding anything else."

She gave Trevor a cautious once-over, then offered a slight nod. Trevor just said it was the least he could do.

I noticed his hands were dirt-stained and rough.

My brow knitted slightly. I opened my mouth to ask about Katie, but before I could get the words out, Yvonne came rushing in.

After a brief check on me, she turned to my mom with a friendly, practiced smile.

"Don't worry, in-law. I've always treated Zara like my own daughter. I would never mistreat her."

My mom offered her a polite nod, nothing more. But she caught the undercurrent and sensed what wasn't being said.

She leaned in, patted my hand, and whispered, "Ethan's already drafted the divorce papers. Don't worry, Zara. I'll take care of everything."

Then she left.

The moment the front door closed behind her, Yvonne dropped the act.

"If you're feeling better, come help with Nicole and Caden. I can't handle both kids on my own."

Then her phone rang. She looked at the screen, perked up, and rushed out, probably to meet her socialite friends.

The house fell silent.

Trevor had brought me back last night, but I hadn't forgotten the reason I collapsed in the first place. I'd been out searching for Katie in the storm. And no matter what he did now, I couldn't forgive him.

Suddenly, Caden's cry pierced the quiet. Trevor stepped over, picked him up gently, and rocked him with practiced ease.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. Daddy's here." His tone was soft and calming.

Only after the baby had settled did he finally speak to me.

"You didn't tell Mom anything, right?" His voice was even, slow. "Think of last night as repayment for keeping quiet. I don't need more people knowing about Brianna."

The faint smile on his lips faded. His face turned blank.

So that was it.

I'd thought, for a moment, that he came out in the storm because he was worried about me.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, eyes narrowing.

Before he could answer, Brianna's lazy voice rang out from the master bedroom.

"Trevor? Trevor, are you there?"

She stepped into view wearing a silk nightgown and Trevor's most expensive blazer draped around her shoulders.

When Brianna saw him, she said with a syrupy tone, "I slept like a baby last night, Trevor. But I had a nightmare this morning and woke up to find you gone."

She stretched like a spoiled cat and curled into his arms, purring.

I stayed silent, sharply contrasting with her flushed cheeks.

God, she was glowing while I sat there looking hollow.

Then, as if remembering I was still in the room, Brianna gave me a flippant, sugary smile.

"Zara, don't be so dramatic. Trevor and I already talked it over. Nicole and Caden are your kids now. They'll call you godmother."

She adjusted the blazer, 'accidentally' revealing a hickey on her collarbone.

"Trevor worked so hard yesterday and ran out into that storm just to get me some things," she added with a blissful sigh.

Trevor didn't answer.

Instead, he kissed her. Deep and slow.

Watching them made my skin crawl. A cold sensation spread down my spine like frost, as if I had fallen into a frozen lake.

Trevor used to say he hated physical closeness, especially when sleeping.

After I gave birth to Katie, he barely touched me at all.

Now I knew why. He just didn't want to be close to me.

A bitter laugh escaped my throat.

Of course, he hadn't gone out for my sake.

That delicate nightgown Brianna wore was clearly custom-made. He must have left just to pick it up, and only happened to overhear my mom's cries.

Caden started crying again, clearly interrupting their moment.

Neither of them moved.

Instead, Trevor handed the baby to me. "Caden likes lullabies. Sing to him."

Then, without a second glance, he scooped Brianna into his arms and carried her back to the bedroom.

"Sorry to trouble you with the baby," Brianna called sweetly over his shoulder. "After Trevor left last night, I tidied up the messy room a bit. So you don't have to clean today."

The door closed behind them.

I sat there, dazed, the baby sobbing in my arms.

All of my things—everything—had already been cleared out by Trevor.

What exactly had Brianna cleaned?

A strange unease gripped me.

Setting the baby down carefully, I rushed to the trash can by the door. I began tearing through it, my hands shaking.

After a few minutes of frantic searching, I found them.

Not just my shredded clothes. But every single photo I had with Katie.

Her letters. Her handmade gifts.

All of them were tossed like garbage.

Ignoring the glass shards, I pulled the pieces out one by one.

At the very bottom, something caught my eye. It was Katie's card for me on Mother's Day.

I reached for it, but the wrapping around broken glass slipped loose, and a shard sliced into my arm.

Blood spilled down my wrist as I held the card tight.

Pain surged through me, but I didn't let go. I curled up on the floor, breathing shallowly.

Outside the window, I caught a glimpse of the garden. Nicole stood there, sniffing the sunflowers delicately.

The ground beneath them had been freshly turned.

The soil... it looked familiar.

Trevor had planted those flowers. I remembered when Katie asked him to plant flowers with her. He refused and said the dirt was filthy.

But for Brianna's child?

Trevor could dig, plant, and do whatever it took to get the job done.

Clutching my bleeding arm, fury surged through me.

I stormed toward the bedroom.

I was done staying silent.

"That child is dead. Keeping her stuff is just bad luck for the other two," Brianna said flatly, like she was tossing out spoiled milk.

As if Katie had never mattered at all.

Zara's POV

Rage consumed me, blurring my vision. Then, I saw that the letters, photos, and keepsakes I'd rescued from the trash were covered in thick, red ink.

Enraged, I flung them straight into Brianna's face. She let out a sharp whimper, recoiling instantly.

I sneered and turned away, ready to clean the bleeding gashes on my arm, when Trevor, still lounging on the bed, suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrist.

"Stop!"

I tried to shake him off, unwilling to argue, but his grip only tightened.

"Brianna was just trying to help tidy up. Did you really have to take it that far?" His voice rose. "You cut her face with a glass? How cruel can you be?!"

I froze, stunned.

Looking back at Brianna, I finally saw it.

On her chin, a tiny, almost invisible cut bled a little from a shard of glass, likely wrapped in paper.

Meanwhile, my arm was bleeding profusely from being yanked so hard, and the blood was pooling on the floor. However, Trevor only noticed Brianna's minor injury.

"Apologize to Brianna," he demanded, his brow furrowed. "Or else…"

His voice grew cold, and the space between them grew further apart. Before I could speak, Brianna's sobs filled the room, swelling until they echoed through every hallway of the Gibson Manor.

"Trevor, it's my fault," she cried, her voice trembling. "I shouldn't have tried to help Zara. If she doesn't appreciate it, fine… but did she really have to humiliate me like this?"

Her crying grew louder, more theatrical, practically a performance.

Trevor looked at me, eyes full of disappointment and anger.

When I still didn't move, he pushed me down to my knees.

"Apologize!"

His hands pressed hard on my shoulders until I crumpled, forced to kneel in a puddle of my own blood. Then he turned his back on me, rushed to Brianna's side, and carefully dabbed her barely-there wound.

I knelt there, frozen in disbelief.

Never... not even in my worst nightmares did I imagine Trevor would one day make me kneel and apologize to another woman.

Back when we first got together, even the slightest disrespect toward me would set him off. Once, at a business gala, a major client tried to cozy up to me—touched my hand under the table. Trevor flipped the whole table in front of everyone and had the man blacklisted.

I heard later that the guy ended up with multiple fractures in his hand.

"Zara, trust me. I won't let anyone hurt you."

That promise now echoed in my mind like the cruelest joke.

As Trevor's fury finally cooled, I braced myself and pushed up from the floor.

But just then, Nicole, who had been hiding outside the room, suddenly rushed in.

Holding a garden trowel, she screamed, "Bad woman! Don't bully my mommy!"

Before I could react, she swung the iron spade at my back with all the strength her tiny body could muster.

It hit me square in the lower back. Pain exploded through my spine, and I collapsed with a cry, clutching my waist.

Trevor's expression darkened. A flicker of concern crossed his face.

Two years ago, while searching for Katie near the crash site that killed my father, I'd been in a car accident myself. My injuries were severe. My lower back was shattered. The doctors said I was lucky to survive. I spent six months in physical therapy just to learn how to walk again.

Initially, Trevor handled everything. He was gentle and caring, supporting me through every painful step. Soon after, work became his excuse, and he never came to the hospital again.

Just as he extended a hand, Nicole, radiating with pride, ran up, interrupting him.

"Daddy! Mommy! I stood up for you! I'm such a good girl, right?"

Trevor gave her a forced smile and patted her on the head.

My eyes welled up. And then I saw it, gleaming on Nicole's tiny wrist.

It was Katie's bracelet.

My breath caught.

"That's Katie's bracelet! Why is it on her wrist?"

"It's my birthday gift from Daddy and Mommy!" Nicole said proudly, lifting her arm so I could see.

My heart stopped.

Soon after Katie's birth, Trevor and I went to the capital's largest monastery to pray for her safety. The chief clergy blessed the bracelet himself, which we then brought home for Katie to wear, hoping it would always protect her.

When Katie disappeared, the only thing left behind was that bracelet. I was devastated. Trevor had accompanied me back to the monastery, and we returned with a new charm necklace.

If Nicole was wearing Katie's bracelet, then that necklace…

I looked toward Caden's crib, suddenly sure of what I'd find.

I remembered Katie smiling at me, her chubby wrist flashing that little green band.

I broke down, sobbing.

Trevor looked torn. He reached out again, hesitating, but then Brianna moaned from the bed.

"Trevor… I don't feel so good…"

Just like I expected, he scooped her up and rushed out the door, heading to the hospital for a full-body check-up.

Nicole trailed after them, chipper and clueless.

I sat there, alone again, clutching Katie's bracelet to my chest, barely holding myself together.

That's when my phone rang.

It was my mom.

"Zara, are you okay? Ethan is finished drafting the divorce papers. I'll bring them to you."

"No, Mom," I replied softly. "I'll go see Ethan myself. You just had heart bypass surgery. Please take care of yourself."

I ended the call before she could argue, wiping away my tears.

Then, a notification popped up.

Brianna had been added to the Gibson family's private group chat.

I checked it and noticed a sequence of cheerful messages—Brianna sending emojis to Trevor's parents, Yvonne also sharing photos, Trevor playing with the kids, making breakfast for Brianna, and serenading her under candlelight, resembling a perfect husband.

So Yvonne had known all along.

I scoffed bitterly and tapped into Brianna's profile. Her banner photo showed her in Trevor's arms, her eyes closed, smiling as if she'd already won.

A message popped up from Brianna.

It was a photo of Trevor at the hospital, fussing over her, fluffing her pillow.

"Do you believe me now? One word from me, and Trevor won't come home for three days."

Then, a message came through from Trevor himself.

[Sudden overtime at the office. Take good care of the kids.]

I stared at it for a moment and typed back.

[Okay.]

...

Hours passed.

Once I had regained some strength, I stood up and used the leftover bandages from Brianna's first-aid kit to patch up my wounds. My arm throbbed, my lower back burned, but I forced myself to keep going.

Three years.

That's how long it had been since Katie went missing. Over the years, I searched every inch of the five kilometers surrounding the area where she disappeared.

Every alley. Every park. Every bit of dirt.

Yet, I always came back empty-handed.

I used to dream of Katie as a newborn, soft, warm, smiling at me, and every time I'd wake up in tears.

In those early days, Trevor would wrap his arms around me, holding me through the night.

Later, he started coming home late, leaving earlier, and stopped asking about Katie altogether.

One day, he casually told me, "If you want another child, I'll agree."

I wiped away the tears.

He had given up on Katie just like that. Even when his infidelity was impossible to deny, he'd still bring up Katie to soften my resolve. To manipulate me.

But now, all that tenderness, all that so-called love, was for Brianna and her children.

I gathered up all of Katie's things and packed them carefully into a box.

When I looked at her smiling face in a photo, I managed a weak smile in return.

Then my phone buzzed again.

"I've found the information you asked for," came a deep voice on the line. "If you can't handle it alone, call me."

Zara's POV

After hanging up the phone, I finally pulled myself together.

I pushed myself slowly off the floor, steadying myself, and began cleaning the mess. Caden was still crying.

When I looked into his soft and innocent eyes, I couldn't help but think of Katie when she was little. She had that same sweetness, that same quiet nature.

For the next three days, there wasn't a single word from Trevor.

Instead, Brianna flooded my inbox with private messages.

Photo after photo of her and Trevor—landscapes, couple selfies, beachfront shots—each one practically dripping with smug provocation.

The background was unmistakable: Bali.

I remembered how I once suggested going there for our honeymoon. Trevor shut it down immediately, saying it was too far, too 'touristy,' and just a waste of time.

But now? One word from Brianna, and he was on the next flight out.

I ignored the messages. My mind was fixed on just one thing: leaving this house for good.

While they were gone, I was left alone to care for Nicole and Caden.

The kids were young and cute, sure—but Nicole, clearly coached by her mother, treated me with thinly veiled contempt.

Even so, I didn't resent them. I took care of them seriously, doing everything I could to keep things calm and under control.

Then, one day, while I was cooking, Nicole came up behind me and gave me a deliberate shove.

Hot oil splashed from the pan, landing right on my still-healing arm. I screamed in pain as angry red blisters bubbled to the surface.

Nicole just smirked. "Bad woman! Don't steal Daddy from Mommy!"

Then she ran off, giggling.

Those three days were pure hell.

Finally, on the last night, when the house was quiet and the kids were asleep, I started packing. I combed through the rooms again, one last time—every drawer, every corner—searching for anything that might help me understand what happened to Katie.

And I found it.

On Brianna's vanity, tucked among her perfumes and jewelry, was something small and familiar.

Katie's badge.

A delicate, custom-made name badge—the one both families designed and gifted to Katie when she turned one month old. It was small, polished, almost like jewelry. On the back, engraved in tiny letters, was Katie's name.

There was no way this was a coincidence.

I slipped it quietly into my pocket, rage simmering in my chest.

That night, as if on cue, Brianna sent another photo.

This one was taken in bed—her in Trevor's arms, surrounded by crumpled clothes and half-empty wine bottles.

Brianna wrote: [Trevor and I are a perfect match. He said you're boring.]

She ended it with a smug little smiley face.

My fingers clenched around the phone.

Brianna's constant needling had worn my patience to the bone.

Later that evening, Nicole 'accidentally' dropped her heavy doll from the upstairs landing, walloping me on the head. I staggered and cried out, clutching my skull.

Only then did she finally stop causing trouble.

...

The next morning, Trevor finally returned.

Nicole was in the garden, insisting on planting the wildflowers she had picked. She lost her balance and fell forward, landing forehead-first on a hoe. Her face turned red from the impact. She clenched her teeth, trying not to cry, but she was clearly shaken.

Just then, Trevor and Brianna stepped out of the car.

Nicole saw them and burst into tears, running straight into their arms.

"Daddy! Mommy! While you were gone, this auntie bullied me! She didn't take care of Caden when he cried! I don't like her! Kick her out!"

She buried her face into Brianna's chest.

Trevor shot me an icy, hard look. "I told you already. These two kids are yours, too. Why are you so petty, fighting with children?"

He rolled his eyes.

I said nothing and just rolled up my sleeve, showing him the burns from Nicole's stunt with the hot oil.

For a second, Nicole looked guilty.

But Trevor didn't falter. "She's a kid, and you're not exactly acting like an adult. You get burned cooking, and now you're blaming her?"

His voice was cold and dismissive.

Sensing the tension, Brianna stepped in like some benevolent peacekeeper.

Her act only deepened the insult.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the badge.

The air shifted instantly.

"Care to explain?" I asked, locking eyes with her.

Suddenly, both of them fell silent.

Brianna blinked quickly, then put on her best pitiful expression.

"It was a gift from Trevor. I didn't know it belonged to Katie." Her voice trembled just enough to seem innocent.

Her pathetic act made my skin crawl. Right then, I lunged forward and shoved her hard.

"Where did you get it? Tell me the truth!"

She stumbled and dramatically fell to her knees. Seeing her weak and tearful, Trevor bought it. He stormed over and yanked me back, fury burning in his eyes.

Then he slapped me hard.

"Enough! That badge was mine. I gave it to Brianna. It just happens to look like Katie's."

I stared at him, stunned.

That lie rolled off his tongue so easily that I almost believed it.

I let out a hollow laugh. "Really, Trevor? You'll go all the way out to protect your mistress?"

Trevor's face twisted in anger.

"You hurt the kids, and now you're turning against us, Zara? You'd better apologize. If not, you won't be eating today. Or tomorrow."

Then he helped Brianna and Nicole into the house as if nothing had happened.

One of his assistants dragged me into a cold, dim storage room and locked the door.

I sat in the dark, clutching the badge with trembling fingers, sobbing quietly.

I didn't feel like I'd done anything wrong.

However, I wasn't allowed to eat for two or maybe three days. But hell, how would I even know? I lost track of time. My head was light, my body weak. I felt like I was disappearing.

Eventually, I picked up the phone.

I called that familiar number.

"Come get me. Tomorrow."

There was no hesitation.

"I'll be there."

That night, under the cover of darkness, I slipped out.

Through the cracked door, I got one last glimpse of Trevor and Brianna—curled up on the couch, laughing softly, completely relaxed. The sight made my stomach turn.

I erased my fingerprint and passcode from the front door.

Then I climbed into the car I'd arranged days ago.

Not long after, Brianna grew hungry in Trevor's arms and called out to him. He shouted upstairs for me to get up and make her a late-night snack.

When there was no reply, he called my phone, but it went unanswered.

Half an hour earlier, I'd already quit the Gibson family group chat and blocked every one of their numbers.

This time, I didn't just walk away.

I left without looking back.