Stefan gently agreed but, in the next moment, turned cold toward me. "I have things to do. I won't stick around for your little show."

Stefan hung up and I was consumed by rage. I couldn't help but hurl my phone to the ground. My screams were filled with anguish and tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

A doctor approached, holding a critical condition notice for me to sign. My hands trembled as I begged them to save my daughter. I knelt on the floor, praying to God and asking only for my daughter's life to be spared.

My daughter miraculously survived, but she was left with a devastating consequence. She had become mentally disabled. Her intelligence regressed from that of an eight-year-old to a mere three-year-old. Though her body would grow, her mind would remain forever childlike.

My eyes were red and my tears were about to dry up. I hugged my confused daughter on the hospital bed tightly. As long as she survived, I would support her for the rest of her life.

With the mind of a three-year-old, Ysabell couldn't fully express herself. She would scream, cry and throw things when faced with something. Her emotions were highly volatile.

She often threw objects that hit me, leaving bruises several times.

I was exhausted after finally putting my daughter to bed. I checked my phone and saw that Stefan had made the headlines.

"Famous Actress, Yolanda Jackman, Returns with Her Rich Husband, Stefan Palmer."

"Yolanda and Stefan to Appear on a Family Travel Show with Their Son."

The cracked screen of my phone mirrored my shattered heart. Why? I wanted to scream. Why did my daughter have to suffer while they played happy family?

Reporters swarmed to interview Yolanda. Stefan stood firmly behind her and his love for her was impossible to hide.

"Miss Jackman, are you and Mr. Palmer married?" one reporter asked eagerly.

Yolanda turned to Stefan with a smile and he stepped forward, placing an arm around her shoulders. "Yes. Otherwise, how could we be on a family travel show?" he said confidently.

Yolanda nestled into Stefan's embrace. "That's right. We hope everyone will tune in to our show."

My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms as rage boiled within me. My husband's betrayal and my daughter's tragic fate left me hollow, like a soulless zombie.

I went home in a daze. My daughter hadn't been discharged from the hospital yet, so I had to go back to get something so that I could take care of her at the hospital. When I opened the door, I never thought three pairs of eyes would look straight at me as if I were an uninvited guest who broke into someone else's home.

The dim light, the steaming dishes on the table and the smiles that hadn't yet faded all revealed the warmth they shared at that moment.

"Dad, who is this lady? Why does she have the key to our house?" a child's innocent voice asked.

Stefan looked embarrassed. "Why are you back so suddenly?" he asked awkwardly.

"Dad? Stefan, since when did we have a son?" I couldn't help but mock him.

Stefan opened his mouth to explain but was interrupted, "Please don't misunderstand, Zelda. Charlie just misspoke. Stefan has been kind to me because of my situation. There's nothing happened between us. Please, don't blame him," she said, feigning innocence.

"Nothing happened?" I seized on her words.

Stefan snapped before I could make a fuss, "Zelda, that's enough! Stop projecting your filthy thoughts onto us. What I have with Yolanda is not what you think."

I stared coldly at Stefan for a long time, as if only today I finally saw him for who he was. How could he be so shameless?

I didn't want to argue with him anymore. To me, this marriage had reached its end. The most important thing now was my daughter.

Ignoring the three, I turned and headed towards my daughter's room. Just as I reached the door, Yolanda's son, Charlie, jumped from his chair and ran before me, spreading his arms to block my way. "You're not allowed to go into my room," he said. His young voice was already filled with an overbearing arrogance.

My face darkened. It was my daughter's room. When did it become Yolanda's son's?

I gently pushed him aside, but he deliberately stumbled and fell to the floor, bursting into loud sobs. "Dad! Mom! This lady pushed me!"

Yolanda was heartbroken and ran over to protect her son. Stefan also came over, looking at the mother and son with concern. Then his arm suddenly swung, leaving a bright red slap mark on my face.

"Zelda, you've gone too far! You even bully a child."

My face burned with pain and my body trembled uncontrollably. Tears welled in my eyes, brimming with disappointment toward the man before me.

I glared at Stefan. Perhaps frightened by my gaze, Stefan stammered, "Zelda, I didn't mean it. I was too angry. I couldn't control myself. I'm sorry."

I clenched my purse tightly and said nothing, brushing past them to push open my daughter's room.

Inside, I found a completely different scene. What was once a cute, princess-themed room was now covered in Superman posters, thoroughly transformed into a boy's room. My daughter's hand-drawn family portrait was nowhere to be found.

Stefan stood beside me, struggling to explain, but I couldn't hear a word. Turning around, I raised my hand and slapped Stefan across the face with all my strength. "Who allowed you to touch my daughter's things?"

Yolanda stood up, cradling Stefan's face with concern. "Don't blame Stefan. It's my fault."

Without hesitation, I slapped her as well. If she was at fault, she deserved to be hit. Caught off guard, Yolanda fell to the ground.

"I won't let you hit my mom!" Charlie rushed over and pushed me hard to the floor. My head instantly bled after hitting the corner of the coffee table.

Due to his momentum, he couldn't stop himself and fell face-first onto the floor, crying loudly.

They were all gathered around the child, oblivious to my injuries. "Hurry, Stefan, let's go to the hospital! If anything happens to Charlie, I won't live either," Yolanda cried. Stefan carried the child and left, with Yolanda following closely behind.

The physical pain I felt was nothing compared to the emotional agony. I sat up slowly. The blood on my head slid from my forehead to the corners of my eyes and I smiled with tears. "Stefan, Yolanda, you are done. If I can't kill you, I'm not Zelda Nicholson."

I dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. It was answered quickly. I took a deep breath, my voice trembling slightly. "Benjamin, please help me."

At the hospital, my forehead wound had been bandaged with gauze. I sat on a bench while my brother was towering over me. "Impressive, severing ties with the family over a man!"

I lowered my head even more. "I know I was wrong."

Benjamin sighed. "How can I help you? No one can bully my sister."

"Get me some bodyguards," I said. If I hadn't come home today, I wouldn't have known that my house had almost become Yolanda and her son's territory.