Chapter 2

Daisy POV

When Ethan finally came home, I was sitting on the couch with a blank expression.

"Babe, I'm back."

He offered a tender smile, holding up a fancy fruit bowl.

"The company handed out corporate gifts today. High-end fruit platters. I brought some back just for you."

I looked down at the bowl.

The melon was cut into uneven, jagged chunks. Several strawberries were mushy and bruised.

This wasn't freshly prepared from a store. These were picked-over leftovers.

A bitter sting hit my nose. He never used to be like this.

When I was pregnant and vomiting constantly, Ethan would drive across town at three in the morning just to buy me freshly squeezed juice.

When my feet swelled so badly I couldn't fit into shoes, he would kneel on the floor and massage them for thirty minutes straight.

He never missed a single prenatal visit. Once, when the doctor mentioned the baby's position seemed slightly off, his eyes welled up with tears on the spot.

Back then, I truly believed I had married the right man.

Even with stretch marks covering my stomach, even when severe hemorrhaging almost kept me from leaving the operating table alive, I still thought I was the luckiest woman in the world.

Yet now, looking at this man's face, he felt like a complete stranger.

"Honey," I said, my voice eerily calm, "someone posted my private videos online."

Ethan’s face tightened for a fraction of a second, but he masked it instantly.

A look of fake fury washed over him. "What videos? Who posted them?!"

"From the bedroom camera. The one you set up two weeks ago."

Ethan's voice jumped an octave. "You mean the feed got hacked? Don't panic, baby. I promise I’ll handle this!"

"I already contacted cybercrime," I said flatly.

Ethan parted his lips, stunned, before pulling me into his arms. "Good. That's good. Don't be scared, I'm here."

I closed my eyes, my heart grinding against a dull, jagged blade.

I knew I couldn't blow my cover yet. I needed hard evidence before filing for divorce.

After collecting myself, I got up and headed toward his mother Karen's room to check on my baby.

I pushed the door open. The little girl was lying in her crib, fast asleep.

I walked over, but no matter how I nudged her, she wouldn't wake up.

Her tiny face flushed with an unnatural, feverish red. Her breathing was shallow, painfully slow.

My stomach dropped. "Karen! What’s wrong with her? Why won't she wake up?!"

Karen was watching TV, not even bothering to look my way. "She wouldn't stop screaming this afternoon. Gave me a massive headache, so I rubbed some whiskey on her gums and gave her a sip. Put her right to sleep."

The final string of my sanity snapped.

I practically screamed, "You gave a newborn whiskey?! She isn't even a month old!"

Karen waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, relax. That's how we raised kids back in the day. A little booze helps them sleep soundly."

I couldn't listen to another word. I scooped my daughter into my arms.

"Ethan! Your mother poisoned our baby with whiskey! Get the car, now! We're going to the ER!"

Ethan’s face drained of color. He grabbed the car keys and bolted downstairs.

The engine roared to life. In the back, I held my baby tight, trembling uncontrollably.

She was still deep in an unnatural stupor. Her tiny lips were turning faintly blue, her breaths growing weaker by the second.

Ethan slammed on the gas, blowing past two red lights.

Just as the car hit full speed, his phone rang.

The car's Bluetooth picked up automatically, and a woman's breathless, frantic sobs flooded the speakers:

"Ethan, help me! I'm so scared!"

The line went dead with a click.

Ethan froze, his hands instinctively wrenching the steering wheel.

The car made a violent, screeching U-turn.

I slammed hard against the car door, looking up in sheer disbelief. "What the hell are you doing?! Why are you turning around?!"

"I have to go check on her," Ethan choked out, flooring the pedal.

"Ethan! Your daughter has alcohol poisoning! She needs emergency care right now!"

"Something happened over there too!" he roared back.

Every drop of blood in my body ran cold.

Fighting back the tears, I wrenched the door handle open. Ethan slammed on the brakes.

I jumped out into the pouring rain, clutching my baby.

Ethan stuck his head out the window, looking like he wanted to say something, but his phone buzzed again.

He glanced at the caller ID, stepped on the gas, and vanished into the night.

I stood there on the asphalt, heavy rain lashing down on me, pelting my baby's burning face.

I looked down. Her lips had turned fully gray-blue.

I tried waving down cars, but it was past midnight in the middle of a torrential downpour.

One cab after another sped by, completely ignoring my frantic waves.

Desperate, I ran forward, slipping on the slick pavement and crashing violently onto the asphalt.

My vision went pitch-black for a second. Rainwater and tears blurred my face, but I kept my arms locked tightly around my child, shielding her from the impact.

Thank God, a kind stranger spotted us and rushed us to the nearest children's hospital.

My baby was immediately wheeled into the trauma room. I stood frozen in the hallway, staring dead-eyed at the glowing red sign.

I had no idea how much time passed before the doors swung open.

The attending physician stepped out, his expression heavy and grim.

"She has acute liver failure. We need to take her into surgery immediately."

My knees gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor.