Chapter 2

The wail of the ambulance siren was a scream that mirrored the one trapped in my own throat. I sat in the cold, sterile waiting room of the emergency department, my body trembling uncontrollably. Every tick of the clock on the wall was like a hammer blow to my sanity.

I waited. And waited.

My phone buzzed in my hand. For a wild, stupid moment, I thought it might be Ryan, that he had somehow come to his senses.

It wasn't. It was a notification from Instagram.

My thumb moved on its own, tapping the screen. Jessica Hayes had just posted a new picture. It was a selfie of her in a hospital bed, a tiny, almost invisible scratch on her knee. She was pouting prettily for the camera.

The caption read: "Mr. Peterson is so generous! I only scraped my knee and he gave me two luxury apartments as compensation. I guess I'll forgive you now~"

The picture was geotagged. They were at a private, luxury hospital across town. Not here. Not where their daughter was fighting for her life.

A cold, hollowing numbness spread through me, so profound it felt like I was floating outside my own body. He had given her apartments. For a scraped knee. While our daughter suffocated in a closet.

Later, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. It was Ryan's family. His grandmother, Mrs. Peterson, rushed toward me, her face etched with worry. The family butler followed closely behind her.

"Sarah, my dear child. What happened? Where is Lily?" she asked, her voice trembling.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't form the words. The sheer desolation of the moment was crushing me. I felt my knees give way, and I sank to the cold linoleum floor. I didn't even realize I was doing it until the pressure of my forehead hitting the ground sent a dull thud through my skull.

Once. Twice. Three times. I bowed my head to her, an act of complete and utter surrender.

"Grandma," I whispered, my voice a raw, broken thing. "Love cannot be forced. Please... let him be with Jessica. I just want to take Lily and leave the Peterson family. Please."

The wounds on my forehead from where I had begged the security guards to open the door were still fresh, throbbing with a dull pain. Warm tears I didn't know I had left to cry streamed down my face, mixing with the blood.

Mrs. Peterson looked at me, her eyes filled with a deep, aching sympathy.

"Oh, my dear, you've suffered so much," she said, her voice thick with emotion. The butler helped me to my feet. "But let's not talk about this now. Let's wait for Lily to recover first."

A bitter, broken laugh escaped my lips. I fumbled with my phone, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold it steady. I showed her the screen. I showed her Jessica's post.

"He gave our marital home to her, Grandma. To please his idealized love. Do you really think this marriage has any reason to continue?"

The two apartments she was bragging about... I recognized the address. It was the penthouse we were supposed to move into after the wedding. Our home.

Mrs. Peterson froze. Her gaze fell on the photo, on the flippant, cruel words. The color drained from her face. Her eyes, which had been filled with sympathy, now blazed with a white-hot fury. Her cane hit the floor with a sharp crack that echoed in the silent hallway.

"That scoundrel! That worthless boy, Ryan Peterson!" she roared, her voice shaking with rage. "Call him! Call that bastard and tell him to get his ass to this hospital immediately! Grandma will teach him a lesson he'll never forget!"

The butler, ever efficient, immediately took out his phone and started to dial. But the last flicker of hope in my heart died out.

If Grandma's scolding actually worked, Lily would never have been locked in that closet in the first place.