Chapter 1

My daughter Lily hadn't seen her father in five years, so the moment she laid eyes on him, she ran forward, her little voice filled with pure joy.

"Daddy!"

The word echoed in the sterile, quiet hallway of the Peterson mansion. Ryan Peterson, my husband, had just returned, not for me, but with her.

Jessica Hayes, his one true love, his idealized first love, was standing right beside him. Her smile froze. Her eyes instantly filled with tears, a perfect picture of wounded innocence. She let out a small sob, turned, and ran, as if Lily' s joyful cry was a physical blow.

As if on cue, she tripped over nothing, her body crumpling to the plush carpet. She cried out, clutching her knee.

"Jessica!"

Ryan' s face, which had been a mask of cold indifference toward his own daughter, twisted with raw panic. He didn't even glance at Lily, who now stood frozen, her smile gone, replaced by confusion and fear. He rushed to Jessica's side, his eyes red with concern.

He scooped her up into his arms, cradling her as if she were made of glass.

"It's okay, I've got you. I'm taking you to the hospital."

As he strode towards the door, he shot a venomous look over his shoulder, not at me, but at our five-year-old daughter.

His voice was like ice.

"Lock her in the master bedroom closet. Three days. No food."

Two large security guards moved toward Lily. My blood ran cold. I threw myself in front of my daughter, spreading my arms to shield her.

"Ryan, no! Please, you can't!"

I begged, my voice cracking.

"She has asthma, Ryan. She can't be in a confined space. She'll suffocate, she could die!"

He paused at the doorway, his gaze filled with pure disgust. He scoffed, a cold, humorless sound.

"Stop with the lies, Sarah. I saw her last medical report. It's perfectly normal. Don't use a fake illness to excuse her bad behavior."

He truly believed it. He thought I was making it up, just another one of my pathetic ploys for his attention.

"She upset Jessica. She needs to be taught a lesson."

He turned his back on me, on his daughter, and walked out of the house, carrying the woman who had broken his heart and our family.

He ordered the guards, "Stand watch. Don't let anyone near that closet."

The guards were huge, impassive men. They looked at me with a hint of pity, but their orders were clear. They gently but firmly moved me aside and picked up my crying daughter.

"Mommy! Mommy, I'm sorry!" Lily shrieked, her little arms reaching for me.

They carried her up the grand staircase and disappeared into the master suite. A moment later, I heard the heavy click of a lock.

The silence that followed was terrifying.

That night, I sat huddled against the cold wood of the bedroom door, listening. Lily' s cries, at first loud and terrified, slowly grew weaker. They became choked sobs, then faint, desperate whimpers.

"Please, Mommy... can't... breathe..."

I pounded on the door until my fists were raw. I screamed until my throat was hoarse.

"Let her out! Please, for God's sake, let her out! She's not breathing!"

The guards stood like statues, their faces grim. "We have our orders, Ms. Miller."

Finally, as the whimpers from inside the closet stopped entirely, an awful silence fell. Even the guards started to look uneasy. One of them shifted his weight, glancing at the other.

"Maybe we should check..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He unlocked the bedroom door and pushed it open. I scrambled past them, my heart hammering against my ribs. I flung open the closet door.

Lily was lying on the floor in a crumpled heap, her face blue. She wasn't moving. She wasn't breathing.

She was unconscious from lack of oxygen.