Chapter 3

I sat in the hospital all night.

It wasn’t until the sun rose the next morning that I finally moved, my body stiff and aching.

My daughter was gone. The only thing left for me to do was give her a proper burial.

But just as I was about to leave, the doctor called me back.

In the waiting room, he held my daughter’s death report in one hand, hesitating as he glanced at me.

“There’s something you should know about your daughter’s injuries,” he said cautiously.

A heavy weight pressed against my chest. My voice came out hoarse and broken.

“What do you mean? What injuries?”

The doctor sighed, clearly troubled.

“Your daughter didn’t just have knife wounds. Her body was covered in bruises, all caused by external force. And I suspect there may have been internal damage as well...”

I didn’t hear the rest of what he said. The words knife wounds and bruises echoed in my mind, stabbing into me like daggers.

In that moment, it felt like I’d fallen into a frozen abyss.

How much pain had she endured before she died?

A memory suddenly surfaced—before I left for my business trip, I had hidden a small camera inside her stuffed bear. I’d done it out of worry, wanting to keep an eye on her while I was away.

That bear had been her favorite, the one she always hugged tightly to her chest.

My hands trembled as I removed the memory card from the bear and inserted it into my laptop.

At first, the footage was normal. My daughter was smiling, clutching her bear, and waving goodbye to me.

But as soon as I left, Jessica’s entire demeanor shifted. Her face turned cold, and she shoved Lily to the floor without a second thought.

Her sharp movements made it clear—this wasn’t the first time.

I watched as my daughter, so small and obedient, picked herself up and quietly retreated to her room.

My chest tightened, guilt tearing me apart. How could I have been so blind? How could I have left her in Jessica’s care, never realizing how cruel her own mother was behind my back?

Suddenly, Lily’s cries pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Mommy, I’m sorry! Please don’t hit me! I won’t say I’m hungry anymore!”

“Shut up, you little brat!” Jessica snapped. “Cry again, and I’ll throw you out the window. Believe me, I will.”

The next thing I heard was Lily’s muffled sobbing.

Jessica wasn’t done. She grabbed Lily roughly by the arm, dragging her out of the room and shoving her into the car.

Inside the car sat Jessica’s first love, Mark Hayes, and his son, Ethan.

“Why did you bring that little nuisance along?” Mark complained. “You know her dad’s just going to lose it again. Last time he hit Ethan just because the kid scratched her with a knife. A knife! And all over one stupid tooth.”

I clenched my fists as I watched, rage boiling inside me. Scratched her with a knife? Lily’s hand had needed stitches—several of them.

Jessica smiled apologetically, trying to calm him down. “Don’t be mad, Mark. Gavin loves that little girl too much, so I thought I’d bring her along to help you blow off some steam. You can do whatever you want with her.”

“I just didn’t want things to escalate between you two again. You know how impulsive that orphan is—he doesn’t think before he acts.”

Mark laughed, satisfied. “Ah, you always know how to please me, Jess.” He pulled her closer by the waist.

And then, as if their casual cruelty wasn’t enough, they came up with a plan to “teach Lily a lesson.”

Their method? Tying a rope around her waist and dangling her off the seventh floor of the building.

The camera shook as the footage captured the horrifying scene.

Lily’s screams filled the air.

“Daddy! Mommy! Help me!”

But no one helped her.

When they finally pulled her back up, she had fainted from terror.

Ethan, however, wasn’t done. He grabbed her by the hair, climbed on top of her, and said in the most innocent tone imaginable, “Jessica, I saw on TV that people get buried alive sometimes. The sound they make is so funny. Can I bury her in the ground?”

For a moment, Jessica hesitated. But then she smiled, indulgent and sweet. “Sure, honey. Go ahead.”

How could she?

I watched in horror as they stuffed my crying daughter into a box and carried her to the backyard.

The sounds of laughter mixed with Lily’s desperate cries for help.

The camera caught everything—her fear, her pain, her hopelessness.

Tears streamed down my face as I stared at the screen, my body trembling.

In her final moments, my daughter must have felt nothing but despair.

She must have called me again and again, hoping I would save her.

But I wasn’t there. I couldn’t save her.