"My child isn’t dead! Where are you taking her? Give her back to me!"

I screamed until my voice broke.

"Let go of my daughter! I want to take her home—I want to take her home!"

My mother-in-law clung to me from behind, sobbing as she tried to hold me back.

“Ethan, please... I know you’re in pain. Let the child rest. Let her go in peace...”

Several men rushed forward to restrain me. As my grip finally slipped from the hearse’s door handle, it drove away. I stood frozen, watching it disappear into the distance until the car was nothing more than a speck. My legs gave out. Darkness swallowed me whole.

---

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in the Sinclair family’s old house. My mother-in-law was sitting at my bedside, her eyes red and swollen.

She wiped her tears quickly when she saw me awake. I tried to smile, but my lips trembled.

“Mom... please,” I whispered. “Let me go. I have nothing left.”

She was stunned for a moment, then her face softened with quiet resolve.

“…Alright. I’ll talk to your father.”

As she left the room, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I turned away, covered my eyes with the back of my hand, and broke down.

---

I came to the Sinclair family when I was ten. Back then, my father and Rachel’s father had built their business empire together. They were closer than brothers.

But everything fell apart when my parents were targeted by business rivals. Overnight, I became an orphan. It was Rachel’s father who took me in and raised me like his own.

He once told me that without my father, the Sinclair family wouldn’t exist. He also said the one thing he regretted in life was not being there in time to save my parents.

I can’t deny it—both he and my mother-in-law treated me better than their own child.

So even after marrying Rachel, no matter how cruel or cold she was, I stayed. I did the housework. I raised our daughter. I endured everything—for the sake of the family that raised me.

All I ever wanted was to protect my daughter.

Now even she’s gone.

---

I don’t know how much time passed before my mother-in-law returned. She stood in the doorway, her voice gentle.

“Your father wants to see you.”

I walked to the study. My father-in-law sat there, staring at a framed photo of Rachel. When he heard me enter, he quickly wiped the tears from his face.

He turned toward me, eyes filled with sorrow.

“Child… your mother told me everything. All these years, it’s our Sinclair family—and Rachel—who failed you.”

He paused.

“The cremation is tomorrow. After it’s over, if you want to leave, you have my blessing. That girl... she’s not worthy of you. Not after what she’s done.”

I bowed deeply, saying nothing. Tears streamed down, falling onto the polished floor.

I will always be grateful to the Sinclair family for raising me. But Rachel? I’ll never forgive her. Never again will I call myself her husband.

My father-in-law sighed heavily.

“Go rest, son. Things will get better... somehow.”

---

When I returned to the bedroom, the last person I wanted to see walked in—Rachel.

She glanced at me with a sneer.

“What? Came running back to the old house to cry to my parents already?”

She crossed her arms and smirked.

“Ethan, do you really think that sucking up to them will make me give in to you?”

Then her voice dropped, full of mockery.

“I don’t get it—since my mom loves you so much, why don’t you just be her toy? I wouldn’t even mind calling you stepdad. And my dad? Hell, he treats you like a brother already. Why not make it official?”

Rachel’s face twisted into a mocking smile. Her words were even more vicious than her expression—each one like a blade.

Looking at her, the hatred in my chest surged like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me. I wanted to strangle her. I wanted her to pay for our daughter’s life—with blood.

But just then, my daughter’s soft, tender voice echoed in my ears, fragile and warm, like a fading dream.

"Dad, is Mom busy again today? I haven’t seen her in so long…"

"Dad, I’ll tell you a secret… Mom is the prettiest mommy in all of kindergarten!"

"Dad, I miss Mom so much."

Then came that final memory—her voice weak and trembling as I carried her into the taxi, her little arms wrapped tightly around my neck.

“Dad, don’t be mad at Mom, okay? It doesn’t hurt… really… it doesn’t hurt at all…”

My throat tightened. I forced down the rage, turned away from Rachel, and quietly walked to the bed, sitting down without sparing her another glance.

But she wasn’t done. Anger flared in her eyes as she stomped forward, grabbed my wrist, and threw me onto the bed. She straddled me, gripping my wrists above my head.

“What’s with the act, huh? Didn’t you beg my parents to drag me back? What, now you’re sulking because I came?”

She leaned down, trying to kiss me. I turned my head, but she pressed harder. Left with no choice, I bit her lip—hard.

She gasped in pain and recoiled, sitting up as fury twisted her face.

“Ethan, have you lost your mind?! What the hell are you playing at now?”

She laughed coldly and launched into her tirade.

“You really think I don’t see through you? You used that little appendicitis scare to force me to the hospital. Then, when it didn’t work, you cried to my parents to pressure me to come back. And now, you're pulling this distant, cold act? What—trying to win sympathy?”

“You left her—your daughter—alone in the hospital after surgery. She’s three! What kind of father does that? And now you’re playing victim? She probably knew what kind of father you were before she died—"

“I said…” I cut her off, my voice icy and low, “…the child is dead.”

She froze.

For a second, something flickered in her eyes. But then her lips curled into a sneer.

“You really are something, Ethan. You’ll say anything to gain pity, won’t you?”

With that, she stood and walked toward the door. Just before stepping out, she turned and spoke without emotion.

“You rejected me yourself. Don’t run crying to my parents again about how badly I treat you. If you do, I’ll only find you more pathetic.”

The door shut behind her.

Silence returned to the room like a heavy fog.

I wiped my lips over and over again, as if scrubbing could erase the memory of her touch—the scent of her.

We had once been in love.

I still remember her 18th birthday. She wore a soft blue princess dress, her cheeks flushed as she stood in front of me.

“Ethan,” she said nervously, “can I like you?”

Her eyes couldn’t meet mine. They were shy and full of light.

My heart melted. I nodded before I even realized I had.

From then on, we were inseparable—four years of youth shared side by side. I cherished her like a treasure, and she gave me her heart in return.

Or so I thought.

Then, four years later, her father sat us down.

“You two have been together long enough,” he said, beaming. “You’re of age now. It’s time. We’ll pick a good day for the wedding.”

Everything changed after that.

Rachel turned cold. Her affection vanished overnight, replaced by impatience, then disgust. I didn’t understand what I had done wrong. And she never offered an explanation.

A year into the marriage, she became pregnant.

But after our daughter was born, she drifted further away—staying out late, refusing to come home. She didn’t even bother hiding it anymore when she took her so-called first love, Luke, out in public, arm-in-arm, letting the whole world see how little she cared.

It wasn’t that I never questioned her—I did. But every time, Rachel met my words with that same cold, scornful expression, a faint smirk curling her lips.

“I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I? The title of the Sinclair family’s son-in-law… even a child. What more is there to fuss about?”

“Ethan, do you know something? The more you demand answers, the more disgusted I feel.”

That was the last time I asked anything of her. After that, I stopped chasing explanations. I stopped asking where she went at night, or who she was with. I turned all my focus to our daughter. I thought if I could just live quietly, peacefully, with her, that would be enough.

Five years of marriage, and Rachel never loved me—nor did she love our child.

Still, I clung to hope. As long as my daughter was with me, life had meaning. It was enough.

But now, even she was gone.

---

The next morning, my in-laws accompanied me to the funeral home. When the time came to push her tiny body into the cremation chamber, my tears fell without restraint. But I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to make a sound.

Beside me, my mother-in-law’s eyes were red, her voice soft with concern.

“Ethan… it’s okay to cry. Let it out.”

I shook my head. My throat was too tight to speak.

My father-in-law stood tall, his face dark with grief and fury. His voice, even when low, carried weight.

“Where is that unfilial girl? On a day like this, how can a mother be missing?”

A flicker of shame crossed my mother-in-law’s face.

“I tried calling Rachel,” she said quietly. “Her phone is off.”

When the staff returned with the urn, my mother-in-law reached for it, her hands trembling. I stepped forward and gently took it from her, clutching it tightly to my chest.

“She’s my daughter,” I said hollowly. “Let me carry her.”

My father-in-law looked like he wanted to protest, but I knelt down before him, holding the urn with both hands.

“Dad… you raised me. Your kindness is greater than a mountain. But this child… she was mine. She’s gone now. Please… let me take her home.”

My voice cracked, but I held back the sobs. My heart had already shattered into too many pieces.

My father-in-law furrowed his brows, clearly torn, but my mother-in-law stepped beside him, resting a hand on his arm.

“Let him, dear,” she said gently. “Ethan is her father. We should respect that.”

I looked up at her with gratitude and stood, walking out of the funeral home with the urn held close to my chest.

I headed back to the house. I wanted to gather my daughter’s things, take all her traces away from that cold place that never truly felt like home.

But the moment I opened the door, I froze.

A man's voice drifted from inside, sickeningly familiar and full of affection:

“Rachel… you’re my lucky star. If it weren’t for you finding that kidney match and staying by my side, I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

“I’ll give you everything you want. Everything, Rachel…”

Then came her voice—low, sultry, shameless.

“Your child is my child, too. I would never let Jamie suffer… Luke… my darling Luke…”

A few seconds later, the sounds of their bodies entangled echoed through the walls. It was coming from the master bedroom—our bedroom.

I stood frozen in the hallway, clutching my daughter’s urn, unable to move, my mind reeling. The sounds of their pleasure, their betrayal, filled the space like poison.

I don’t know how long I stood there.

Eventually, the door opened.

Luke walked out first, his shirt half-buttoned, hair disheveled, a smug glint in his eye. He offered a hypocritical smile, trying to feign courtesy.

“Oh… Brother Ethan, when did you get back? Rachel told me you were still at the hospital with your daughter, so she brought me over. Sorry, man… it’s her fault.”

Behind him, Rachel emerged, fully dressed again, slipping her arm around his.

She glanced at me with barely masked contempt.

“Why are you explaining anything to him?” she said coldly. “What right does he have to question what I do?”