On my daughter’s birthday, all she wanted was for her father to join her at the amusement park. But Patrick Carlson had already reserved every park in the city to please Laura Cramer. His assistant ripped up our tickets and snapped impatiently, “Madam, you should understand your place. Mr. Carlson is extremely busy right now.”
Across the fence, Patrick was “busy” kissing Laura Cramer. Our six-year-old daughter crawled through the fence, calling for her father, but he shoved her away.
“You know Laura miscarried because of you, and now she's in a fragile state. Yet you bring this child here to provoke her. You are truly heartless.”
He locked my sobbing daughter on a ride, pushed the button, and coldly told me, “You cried and threw a tantrum at home, insisting on coming here. Now you’re playing. Why are you still crying?”
“No one is to stop her without my order. She will have fun. Let’s see if she dares act up with you again.”
With that, he dismissed all the amusement park staff and left with Laura.
When I finally broke the control room glass and rescued my daughter, the blood from the bungee jump machine had already stained the park. I cradled her lifeless body and knelt before the elder of the Carlson family, who had rushed over after hearing the news.
“Patrick killed my daughter. I want him to pay for his blood with blood!”
——
“There’s still hope,” the family doctor said urgently after checking her pulse. “We can get her to the hospital now!”
But when we arrived, the assistant stopped us again. I fell to my knees, desperately pleading.
“Patrick is tormenting me, but please, let me find a doctor for my daughter!”
The elder, furious, raised his crutch and struck the assistant’s leg. “If you delay my granddaughter’s treatment, you’ll die with me!”
The assistant, seeing the blood in my arms, panicked. “But Mr. Carlson took all the doctors in Los Angeles to stay with Laura. No one is available.”
“Damn it!” the elder shouted. He quickly called other hospitals, only to learn that Patrick, fearing Laura might commit suicide from stress, had secured every doctor in town to care for her round-the-clock.
My daughter, growing colder in my arms, caused my hands to shake uncontrollably. At that moment, someone rushed through the door.
“Mr. Carlson sent me,” they said.
I hurried over, only to find a takeaway delivery boy, not a doctor, standing there.
“Mr. Carlson sent you a band-aid,” he said. “He also wanted me to tell you, ‘Bleeding doesn’t kill. Don’t disturb me for something so small.’”
“Monster!” The elder shouted, knocking over the band-aid bag as he collapsed, clutching his chest.
“That woman, Laura, ran off with 300 million in company funds, bankrupting everything. Now, she’s back causing chaos, manipulating Patrick into killing his own child. I won’t let her get away with it.”
He dialed Patrick, but no one answered. Instead, my phone rang. I answered to hear Patrick’s controlled anger.
“Lucia, I know you're unhappy. Laura miscarried because of you. What's wrong with me being with Laura? Must you throw a tantrum in front of Grandpa? And your daughter—she's spoiled. She bleeds a little and acts like she’s dying. I’m not a doctor. Why are you bothering me?”
"You wanted the amusement park, Laura and I gave it to you. You said the child was bleeding, so I sent a band-aid. If you try to disturb Laura and me again today, I won’t let you off easily."
Patrick's voice echoed through the phone, but all I could focus on was the silence around me. I kept calling my daughter’s name, gently stroking her cold, stiff hand.
"Patrick, you can believe whatever you want, but I swear, I never plotted against Laura."
Life drained out of me as I whispered, "You killed my child. I want a divorce."
There was a long pause, and then Patrick’s cold laugh broke through the silence.
"Trying to play dead and manipulate me again? Lucia, you're overacting."
He hung up.
I stumbled toward Mr. Carlson, my daughter still in my arms, feeling utterly lost. When he saw the situation, he immediately understood there was no saving it. Tears streamed down his face.
"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have relied on your kindness to force you to marry Patrick and save the Carlson family business. But Lucia Knight, for the sake of our past, please give Patrick another chance."
"Before Laura came back, your family was so happy. Patrick loved you. He was just confused by that woman again..."
His words stirred painful memories, and I gave a bitter smile.
Ten years ago, Laura had abandoned a seriously injured Patrick and fled with 300 million yuan of the company’s funds. The Carlson company went bankrupt, and the family couldn't even afford Patrick’s hospital bills.
Mr. Carlson, desperate, found me. I was the vice president of my boss's company by then. Kneeling in front of me, he begged me to marry Patrick and help rebuild the Carlson Group.
I have always been grateful to Mr. Carlson for rescuing me from my abusive father and sponsoring my education. To repay him, I agreed.
It took three years to revive the company. I helped Patrick from his hospital bed to a wheelchair, and then to his feet. After giving birth to my daughter, I willingly stepped away from power to focus on my family.
For ten years, I gave everything to Patrick and the Carlson family. Now, I have lost my daughter—the only thing the Carlson family had given me.
I looked at Mr. Carlson, his eyes full of sorrow, and slowly shook my head. "I’ve given him ten years of my life. He shouldn’t be abusing me like this."
"I owed the Carlson family once, but now, I’m here to collect what Patrick owes me."
With red-rimmed eyes, I carried my daughter’s body to the incinerator, placing her inside with my own hands. As the flames began to rise, my entire body trembled.
"Audrey, Mom will make sure to... avenge you."
Old Master Carlson sat helplessly in his wheelchair, sobbing. "I’ve hurt you so much, and I have no right to stop you anymore. But Lucia, if Patrick returns, can you give him another chance?"
"When my daughter was crying and begging him, why couldn’t he give her a chance?" I wiped the final tear from my cheek, took the death certificate, and headed home to gather my and Audrey’s things.
When I walked through the door, a strong smell hit me, and blue crystals were scattered across the floor. Laura was there, her eyes filled with malice as she smirked at me.
"Patrick, your wife’s back. Let me go. Otherwise, she’ll get upset again and drag Audrey into her mess. Poor Audrey, learning to lie at such a young age."
Patrick's voice was cold as he shouted, "Lucia, stop right there!"
"I've already explained that Laura’s pregnancy with my child was an accident. You’re just jealous of her, stirring up trouble for no reason." Patrick’s voice grew cold. "Now, Laura’s child is gone because of you, and you feel no guilt. Today, you even took your daughter to take over the amusement park that belongs to Laura."
"I didn’t have anything to do with Laura. How her child was lost is none of my concern." I replied icily, "I’m tired of saying this. Believe it or not."
"You can argue all you want," Patrick sneered. "You’ve been using the child to compete for my favor, challenging my limits. You’re not fit to be Audrey’s mother. I’ll give Audrey to Laura to raise—let her be her mother instead."
Without another word, I turned and started heading upstairs.
Patrick grabbed my arm, his eyes filled with a mixture of coldness and mockery.
"If you don’t want to give Audrey to her, I’ll compensate Laura with a child of her own, but don’t disturb her again."
"Do whatever you want," I answered flatly.
A flicker of doubt crossed his face before he sneered.
"If you’re really so reasonable, then come over here and tear off the Smurfs for us, hand over the wet wipes, and wash Laura’s underwear by hand. She has delicate skin, so it’s your responsibility."
The foul-smelling cloth and Smurfs hit me in the face. A sharp edge from the tin foil scraped my cheek, drawing blood. The disgust was overwhelming, but I refused to engage any longer.
I tossed the underwear aside, tore off the Smurfs, and threw them at him.
"Can you let me go now?"
Patrick studied me, seemingly confused. Laura, still draped over him, squirmed and hummed at the sight.
I ignored the two of them as they made their sounds behind me and walked upstairs.
In the quiet of my room, I began folding my daughter’s clothes, taking out the album I had made for her. As I flipped through the pages, tears welled up, blurring my vision. Her bright, innocent smile in the photos made it feel like she was still with me.
Just yesterday, she had been beside me, cheerfully saying, "Mom, don’t be sad. Dad’s too busy with work to spend time with us."
"Dad’s work is too hard. Audrey doesn’t want Dad to spend my birthday with me. I just wish he could rest for a day."
I sobbed as I held onto the clothes that still smelled of her. My daughter had been so understanding, so considerate of her father, and yet that man had sent her to her death on her birthday.
I gathered my things, contacted a lawyer, and made plans to leave.
As I descended the stairs, I found Patrick and Laura in the kitchen, disheveled and unbothered. The flush on Laura’s face hadn’t even faded.
"Miss Lucia, Patrick is just trying to make up for the harm you’ve caused. Please don’t blame him, and don’t teach the children to do such bad things. What if they grow up to be like you?"
She went on, her tone dripping with insincerity. "I heard today is Audrey’s birthday. I’m so sorry. But today is also the 5,200th anniversary of my first meeting with Patrick. He promised to celebrate every anniversary with me, so he left you and Audrey."
Her apology was a thin veil for her boasting. She added, "I made a mango-flavored cake to apologize. I hope you’ll accept it."
I had no interest in her false sympathy. All I wanted was to bury my daughter in peace.
Patrick, seeing me leave without a word, assumed I was upset about Laura. He grabbed a handful of my hair and shoved me against the kitchen counter.
"Lucia, have you lost all your manners? Laura is kind-hearted and doesn’t hold anything against you or your daughter. Why are you acting so high and mighty now?"
