On my daughter’s sixth birthday, my husband didn't order her favorite custom princess cake. Instead, he had a flatbed truck deliver a hundred pounds of fresh cilantro to the estate. All because our daughter, severely allergic to cilantro, had refused to eat a single bite of the cilantro-lime ribeye steak her step-sister had deliberately grilled for the birthday dinner. In retaliation, he ordered his men to pry her small mouth open and force-feed her handful after handful of the herb. He livestreamed the entire ordeal to my phone, forcing me to watch. Listening to my daughter’s desperate, fading cries, I sobbed into the receiver, consumed by agonizing despair. "Damon, Daisy is dangerously allergic to cilantro! Are you really going to kill your own daughter for a stranger? You're a monster!" Damon’s response was a brutal slap across my face when he returned, his voice icy and unyielding. "She caused Talia’s stress-induced asthma attack! This is the punishment she deserves." As he turned to leave, he threw a final threat over his shoulder. "If she doesn't finish every last ounce of that hundred pounds, she will never have another birthday again." … When I finally saw my daughter again, her sweet face was covered in angry red hives, her skin swollen and burning hot to the touch. Her throat was so severely swollen from anaphylaxis that she was choking. Her lips had turned a terrifying shade of bruised purple, her breathing shallow and ragged. She was on the brink of death. Yet the moment her glassy eyes caught mine, she fought with every remaining shred of strength to comfort me. "Don't cry, Mommy... Daisy doesn't hurt... I don't hurt..." A knife twisted deep inside my chest, a suffocation of pure agony. I forced my hands not to tremble, forcing myself to remain functional. I scooped her tiny, trembling body into my arms. "Don't be scared, baby. Mommy's here. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise." As a senior physician, I knew better than anyone that with acute anaphylactic asphyxiation, every passing second brought her closer to brain death. I sprinted toward the villa's private medical bay. The room was fully stocked with a complete inventory of emergency pharmaceuticals and trauma equipment, maintained specifically for unexpected medical emergencies on the estate. If I could just reach the epinephrine, I could stabilize Daisy’s airway immediately. But as I reached the heavy glass doors, two towering guards in dark suits stepped into my path, blocking the entrance. Desperation tore through me. "Get out of my way! My daughter is in critical condition—she needs immediate emergency resuscitation!" The guards’ expressions remained entirely blank. "Mrs. Carlton, all medical supplies and emergency pharmaceuticals in this villa are reserved exclusively for Miss Whitmore by Mr. Carlton's strict order. No outsiders are permitted access." "Outsiders?" Red spots blurred my vision, my voice vibrating with sheer disbelief and horror. "I am Damon’s wife! The person dying in my arms is his flesh and blood!" One of the guards uttered a quiet, dismissive sneer. "Mrs. Carlton, everyone on this estate knows Miss Whitmore is Mr. Carlton’s top priority. He explicitly instructed us that all resources are reserved for Miss Whitmore first. No exceptions." I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat, forcing every word out through gritted teeth. "My child is dying. This is a matter of life and death. I only need a single dose of epinephrine. I beg you, let me inside to get the medication! I will take full responsibility for whatever happens!" The guard’s stance only hardened. "I’m sorry. Without Mr. Carlton’s personal authorization, no one goes through these doors." It felt as though my heart was being torn open by hand. Realizing logic was useless, I dialed Damon's video call directly. He answered on the second ring. The high-definition screen lit up with a sickeningly serene scene. In the plush leather booth of an exclusive private lounge, Talia leaned fragilely against his shoulder, looking small and cherished. While on my end, his six-year-old daughter was suffocating in the dark. Damon’s brows knit together in immediate annoyance. "What do you want now?" I slammed the camera down toward Daisy’s pale, bloated face. "Damon, look at what you’ve done! Daisy ate the cilantro and is in severe anaphylactic shock! She’s slipping away!" "The guards are blocking me from the emergency kit! Tell them to let me in right now so I can save her!" Tears spilled over my lashes, my tone reduced to a raw, broken plea. Damon glanced at the screen for less than a second, his eyes filled with nothing but cold disgust. His voice cut through the line like ice. "Valerie, what kind of pathetic game are you playing now? Just to vent your petty spite against Talia, you're making our daughter act out some tragic drama?" My body went completely rigid, the blood draining from my face. "Damon, she is your daughter! She is dying! Can't you see that?!" Beside him, Talia shifted closer, her fingers delicate on his lapel. Her voice came through soft and helpless. "Damon, those medical supplies were prepared specifically for me... I suppose Valerie is just jealous because you care about me so much." She looked straight into the camera, putting on a show of gentle magnanimity. "Valerie, if you really need them that badly, please, take them. It’s okay. Though... is Daisy’s allergy really that severe?" That subtle insinuation lit the fuse on Damon's volatile temper. His expression turned instantly murderous as he barked into the phone. "Valerie! You’re a doctor, yet your mind is so consumed by malice and jealousy!" "Talia has been frail her entire life and requires constant care—is it a crime for me to keep medication on hand for her?" "Not only do you lack an ounce of empathy, you target her at every turn! You even teach our child to fake illnesses just to gain sympathy and push Talia out!" Looking at the man on the screen—a man who refused to see the truth, who twisted reality to suit his cruel obsession—the absolute last ember of love and hope I held for him shattered into dust. I let out a harsh, broken laugh, my body shaking so violently that tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. "Damon Carlton... you will regret this for the rest of your life." Before he could respond, he disconnected the call. I couldn't waste another second. Earlier, before the confrontation with the guards, I had already dialed emergency services. I gathered my unconscious daughter into my arms, stumbling frantically toward the estate’s main gates. The sight of the approaching ambulance brought a split second of relief to my chest. Then, without stopping, the ambulance pulled a sharp U-turn at the security gates and sped away in the opposite direction. The gate guard approached with a flat, bureaucratic expression. "Miss Whitmore had a sudden asthma flare-up at the lounge. Dispatch re-routed the unit to prioritize Miss Whitmore’s emergency." By the time I managed to flag down a private car and commute to the hospital, the small body in my arms had gone terrifyingly limp. The attending physician in the ER, Dr. Donovan, was a former colleague of mine. The moment his eyes fell on Daisy, his face went completely pale. "Severe anaphylactic shock! Grade four laryngeal edema! Prepare an immediate IV dose of high-potency epinephrine!" He rushed to the emergency medication cabinet and pulled open the drawers, only to freeze. "Where are the ampoules?" Another doctor ran over, his face dark. "Dr. Donovan, the entire reserve batch of emergency epinephrine was transferred to the VIP suite." Dr. Donovan spun around, furious. "Who authorized that?! That was our last remaining emergency supply for acute allergic reactions! Who had the right to—" "Dr. Donovan... Miss Whitmore had an asthma attack earlier. Mr. Carlton ordered all relevant resuscitation drugs in the hospital to be moved directly to her VIP room..." Before he could finish his sentence, I had already turned and rushed toward the VIP wing like a woman possessed. When Damon saw me kick open the door to Talia's room, his gaze darkened with intense irritation. "Valerie, is there truly no end to your antics? You followed me all the way to the hospital? Do you think the ER is your personal stage for throwing tantrums?" My eyes ignored him completely, locking onto the tray sitting on the bedside table—containing over a dozen vials of emergency epinephrine. "Damon, I am begging you. Daisy is in the trauma bay right now. Her airway is completely closed. Dr. Donovan said if she doesn't get this medication immediately—" "Here we go again," Damon interrupted, his brow heavy with contempt. "Valerie, I’ve seen you lie, and I’ve seen you act. But I never imagined you would invent a lie about your own daughter dying—twice in a single day." "I am not acting! Come down to the trauma room and see her with your own eyes—" "Enough!" He grabbed a glass water tumbler from the nightstand and threw it forcefully at my head. The thick glass struck my forehead with a sickening crack. Warm, metallic liquid immediately ran down my face, dripping onto my collar. I didn't care. I didn't even wipe it away. Without a second thought, I dropped heavily to my knees on the cold tile floor. "I beg you. Just give me the medication. The second my daughter is safe, I will sign the divorce papers. I will leave and never bother either of you again." For a fraction of a second, something flickered in Damon’s eyes. Then Talia let out a soft, weak cough from the bed, speaking up at just the right moment. "Valerie, if you want the medication that badly, I can give it to you. You don't need to say things you don't mean out of anger..." Damon turned his head, his touch impossibly tender as he pinched her nose lovingly. "Give it to her? Do you even know the condition your own body is in?" My heart seized painfully in my chest. Talia tugged gently on his sleeve, a sly, amused smile touching her lips. "Damon, I just think Valerie’s performance is so moving. I want to play along." She turned her eyes to me, affecting a look of gentle hesitation. "Valerie, you always insist I don't really have asthma and refuse to treat me properly. If you're willing to go out to the main lobby, kneel down, and publicly announce that you were wrong, I'll give you the medication." Damon stared down at me for three agonizing seconds. "Valerie, Talia is being more than generous by giving you a way to save face. Go on. Do as she says." Kneeling on the ground, my fingernails dug into my palms until blood leaked through my fingers. All I could see behind my eyes was Daisy’s gray, lifeless face. I forced my trembling body up, staggered out of the room, and walked into the center of the crowded main emergency lobby. In front of dozens of patients, nurses, and doctors, I dropped heavily to my knees. "I am a terrible doctor!" The chaotic noise of the lobby gradually faded as countless eyes turned toward me. "My medical judgment is incompetent! I failed to properly diagnose Miss Whitmore's asthma! I do not deserve to practice medicine!" My voice trembled, each word torn from a bleeding throat. "I apologize to her! I am sorry!" The gazes of the onlookers sliced into me like invisible scalpels, but I felt no shame, no humiliation, no pain. I only wanted the box of medicine for my baby. The doors to the VIP corridor opened. Damon walked over with an unreadable expression, standing over me like a king looking down at a beggar. Just as I opened my mouth to ask for the vials, a violent blow struck the small of my back. His foot slammed into my ribs. He drew back his leg, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Valerie, to compete with Talia, you've thrown away every last shred of your dignity. Acting like this only makes me find you more revolting." "Have you put on enough of a show? If you're done, get out." He turned on his heel, walking back toward the VIP suite. As he retreated, he carelessly tossed a single vial over his shoulder onto the floor. Every ounce of physical agony vanished from my mind. I threw myself forward on my hands and knees, clutching the fragile glass container to my chest. I scrambled up and ran like a madwoman toward the trauma bay. Slamming open the double doors, I held up the medication in my blood-stained hand, gasping for breath. "Dr. Donovan! I got the epinephrine! Give it to Daisy now!" The trauma bed in the center of the room was completely empty. The attending nurse looked at me with deep, pitying eyes. "Dr. Ashford... I am so sorry. Ten minutes ago, the child suffered complete respiratory arrest. We couldn't bring her back." I froze. The strength in my limbs vanished in an instant, a deafening ring roaring in my ears. The vial slipped from my numb fingers, shattering against the concrete floor. No. That was impossible. How could my sweet Daisy leave me like this? I stumbled forward, seizing the nurse’s coat with white-knuckle force. "You're lying to me! She was just in shock! Epinephrine will fix it—take me to her! Let me give it to her!" The nurse's eyes welled with tears as she gently pried my fingers loose. "Her body has already been transferred to the morgue. You should go say goodbye." My world went entirely dark. I stumbled through the corridors like a ghost, running toward the basement. When I gave the attendant my daughter's name, the worker on duty checked the logbook with a puzzled frown. "A woman presented a release form signed by Mr. Carlton about twenty minutes ago. She already collected the child's remains." A sudden darkness swirled in front of my eyes, and I nearly collapsed to the floor. I bit my bottom lip so hard that blood filled my mouth, using the sharp spike of physical pain to force my mind back into consciousness. I turned and sprinted out of the hospital into the night. When I pushed open the wrought-iron gates of the estate, the scene waiting in the courtyard made my blood run cold. Two dozen guards stood in formation along the paved driveway. Behind them, heavy iron cages held twenty massive, muscular attack dogs. Talia stepped out from the main entrance, dressed impeccably, a gentle, harmless smile playing on her lips. Yet the words that fell from those lips dragged my soul into an abyss. "You know, Daisy could have had a complete body for her funeral. She could have been buried with dignity. But it's all your fault—you just had to fight me for Damon. You just had to stand in my way." A suffocating wave of hatred surged through me. I wanted to tear her apart with my bare hands. Instead, my legs buckled, and I crashed heavily to my knees before her on the gravel. Sharp stones sliced through my pants, embedding in my knees, but I felt nothing. "I beg you... give me Daisy’s body back." "I will leave immediately. I will disappear forever. I will never come back, never bother either of you ever again." I slammed my forehead onto the hard ground, repeating the plea over and over like a mantra. Talia let out a soft chuckle. "Give her back to you? Then who is going to compensate me for all the grievances I’ve suffered over the years?" She flicked her eyes toward the head guard, giving a casual instruction. "My precious boys are hungry. Open the cages and let them in for their feast." The guard stepped forward, raising the heavy iron latches on every cage door. Twenty massive dogs roared with aggression, surging past the threshold and hurtling inside the villa’s lower wing. A second later, a chaotic, horrific sound echoed from inside the room—a wet, vicious sound of tearing and feeding. In an instant, I realized what was in that room. The final pillar holding my sanity together snapped. My eyes strained against their sockets, blood screaming in my ears as I threw myself toward the doorway like a feral animal. Before I could reach the threshold, a heavy boot slammed into my chest, sending me flying backward onto the stone tiles. I scrambled forward on all fours, wrapping my arms around the guard's leg with desperate strength. "Open the door! Let me in! That is my daughter! How can you be so cruel?!" "Damon Carlton! Talia Whitmore! May you both rot in hell!" With a signal from Talia, the guard struck me across the face, sending me sprawling across the courtyard again. Her cruel voice floated down to me. "Poor little Daisy. Right before she drew her last breath, I bet she was still waiting for her doctor mommy to come save her." My heart felt as though it were being slowly ground to dust, yet I was forced to watch it all unfold. The sickening crunch of bone tore through the air from behind the closed doors. "Ahhh—!" The agony locked in my lungs exploded, fueling a desperate burst of strength that carried me straight at Talia's throat. "I will make you pay with your life!" Just as my fingers scraped her neck, a powerful hand gripped the back of my collar from behind, violently yanking me off my feet. My back slammed violently onto the hard stone floor. Old injuries mixed with new pain, and my vision flickered dark for a long second. Damon stepped over me, wrapping an arm around Talia to shelter her behind his body. "Valerie, have you completely lost your mind?!" "Do you have any idea what you're doing? Just because of your pathetic jealousy, you're trying to murder her in broad daylight?!" Talia placed a delicate hand on his arm, affecting a soft, mournful sigh. "It's all my fault, Damon. If I hadn't cooked that dish for Daisy, none of these misunderstandings would have happened..." Hearing this, the fire in Damon's eyes burned even hotter. I lay collapsed on the ground, forcing my chin up to look at him. He stood there in his tailored, immaculate suit, looking every bit the refined gentleman. Yet the way he looked at me was colder than ice. "Damon... do you have any idea what your sweet Talia just did?" I rasped, my voice barely human. "She let twenty attack dogs into that room... to tear apart your daughter’s body." Damon’s brow twitched slightly. He stared down at me as if looking at a repulsive, insane monster. "Valerie... do you even hear the insane nonsense coming out of your mouth?" "Attack dogs? A body?" The last trace of patience vanished from his face. "You disgust me. I used to think that no matter how jealous or vindictive you were, at least you were a mother. But look at you now! To frame Talia, you're actually willing to curse your own daughter to death." He pulled a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket and slapped it hard against my face. "I found this in your study drawer. It's Daisy's allergy panel. It says right there in black and white that she has zero allergy to cilantro." I looked down at the paper lying on the stone floor. With a single glance at the formatting, my trained eyes caught the fake lab headers immediately. A broken, ragged laugh tore from my throat. "Damon Carlton... right and wrong, truth and lies... all you have to do is open that door and see for yourself!" Damon paused for a moment, then turned his back on me, addressing the guards. "Even now, you refuse to admit your lies. Men—break her hands." Heavy hands pinned me to the stone. The solid wooden baton descended onto my wrists and fingers. Screams tore through my throat—the raw, agonizing sound of an animal being skinned alive. "Damon Carlton! You murdered your own daughter with your own hands! You will burn in hell!" "You and Talia will both suffer a horrific death—!" Damon stood a few paces away, gently using a handkerchief to dab away a tear from Talia's cheek. A few seconds later, his cold order drifted over the sound of my screams. "Sew her mouth shut." The guards produced heavy suture needles and thick black thread, forcing my jaw still as they pierced through my lips. Even as the needle tore through skin, I glared at Damon, my eyes burning with a desperate, bloodthirsty hatred. Underneath the crevice of the closed door, a thick, dark crimson fluid was slowly seeping out across the white tiles. "Damon Carlton... you will live to regret this!" With a muffled, bloody roar, I threw my weight against the guards, breaking free of their grip. I hurled my entire body against the locked wooden door. The heavy door gave way under the impact, swinging inward. Inside, the pack of wild dogs was still snarling, tearing frantically at the center of the room. I threw myself over the remains without hesitation. Startled by my sudden intrusion, a massive dog turned, its razor-sharp teeth snapping shut violently around my throat. Hot blood erupted from my neck, spraying across the floor. In that fading moment of consciousness, I saw Damon break past his guards, throwing himself toward me. His eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted in absolute terror as he screamed my name. "Valerie—!"
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