Chapter 1
“Daddy, help me!” A little girl’s cry came from the video.
Rachel sat in the police station, pale and shaking, her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes were red and full of tears, streaming silently down her cheeks.
The girl in the video was her daughter, Jennie. She was tied to a chair, struggling, crying for help.
Then came the voice of Rachel’s husband, Andrew. “Jennie, your mom’s always playing games to get my attention. Now you’re making up stories too? I don’t have time for this. I’ve got things to do.”
Right before the call ended, Rachel clearly heard a child call Andrew “Daddy.”
Then, the kidnapper stabbed Jennie in the chest with a knife. Blood spilled out fast.
Jennie’s eyes slowly lost their light. She looked straight at the camera and mouthed a few words. She didn’t want a dad anymore. If she could choose, she just wanted to be with Rachel.
Rachel couldn’t take it anymore. She slipped from the chair and dropped hard to her knees on the cold floor. Her eyes were blank. Her lips moved, but her voice was barely a whisper.
“Ms. Sampson, we’ll take you to the morgue to identify the body,” said a female officer quietly. She was a mom too, and her heart broke watching Rachel.
They pulled the drawer out slowly. Jennie’s little face was pale and blue.
But Rachel didn’t care. She leaned in close and pressed her cool lips to her daughter’s forehead. More tears fell without a sound.
“We’ve caught the kidnapper. You’ll have answers soon,” said the officer gently. “Do you want us to call her father?”
“No need. She’s my daughter.” Rachel said coldly, a sharp edge in her eyes. “He doesn’t deserve to be called her dad.”
She looked down, gently touched Jennie’s cheek, and whispered, “I’m so sorry, sweetie. But no one can hurt you anymore.”
The pain was too much. Rachel passed out.
When she woke up, she was in the hospital. She stared blankly at the white ceiling, the ache in her chest reminding her it was all real.
She sat up and ripped the IV from her hand. Blood oozed from the spot, but she didn’t care. She stumbled toward the door.
She had to see Jennie. Her little girl was all alone in the morgue. She must be scared.
But as soon as Rachel stepped out, she stopped.
Just a few steps away, a tall, good–looking man stood at the nurse’s station. He was gently holding a little girl in a pink dress. Next to him was a beautiful woman. The three of them looked just like a happy family.
It was Andrew and Yedda.
“Andrew, aren’t you going to check on Jennie?” Yedda smiled gently. “She’s still your daughter, no matter what. Kids throw fits all the time. If you go talk to her, she’ll calm down.”
Andrew frowned slightly, clearly annoyed. “What could be wrong with her? She just wants attention. And anyway, Rachel’s her mom. She can handle it. Only someone like her would let a kid lie just to get my attention.”
Yedda reached out and adjusted the collar of the little girl in his arms, her smile deepening.
Rachel heard every word. Crystal clear.
It felt like someone was squeezing her heart tight. Pain and anger twisted together, and before she even realized it, she stormed forward and slapped Yedda hard across the face.
Andrew’s expression turned ice–cold the moment he saw her. He quickly pulled Yedda behind him. “Rachel, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Hearing his voice, the same voice that once sounded so familiar, Rachel’s eyes turned even colder. Ignoring the pain in her chest, she stared at him with tear–filled eyes and asked through gritted teeth, “Why didn’t you save Jennie?”
Before Andrew could answer, Yedda spoke up, sounding nervous. “Ms. Sampson, it’s not what you think. Today was Tracy’s birthday and also the
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kindergarten’s baking day.
“Tracy’s been bullied for not having a dad around. I just wanted Andrew to be there for her. That’s all. It’s not what it looked like.”
Her voice cracked as she tried to explain, almost crying. “After the event, Tracy had trouble breathing because of her heart. Andrew rushed us to the hospital, that’s why he couldn’t talk to Jennie properly on the phone. It’s all my fault.”
Tracy, with teary eyes, whimpered softly and reached out her little hand to comfort Yedda, whispering an apology to Rachel.
“What are you even explaining to her for?” Andrew looked at Yedda with pity, then gently soothed Tracy, telling her not to cry.
Rachel had never seen him like this. He looked just like a father who’d do anything for his daughter.
But he had never been this kind to Jennie.
Just because Tracy had a heart issue, he didn’t even want to hear Jennie out. And in the end, the last thing Jennie heard before she died was her father being gentle–toward someone else’s child.
“I’ll take you two home, Andrew said, wrapping an arm around Yedda’s shoulders as they walked toward the elevator.
The little girl in his arms rested her head on his shoulder and stuck her tongue out at Rachel with a smug little grin.
Rachel’s eyes turned red. She stared at Andrew’s back, her voice cold as ice. “Andrew. Jennie is dead. You killed her. Aren’t you even going to see her one last time?”
Andrew stopped and turned around. His eyes were dark and angry. “What are you talking about, Rachel?” he snapped. “Tell Jennie I’ll be home tonight. And stop using death to get my attention. It only makes me sick.”
He didn’t believe Jennie could really be dead. To him, she was just like Rachel–dramatic, always acting. Just trying to fool him.
That thought made his eyes grow even colder as he looked at her.
Rachel’s vision blurred with tears. Suddenly, she started laughing. Soft at first, then louder. But she was crying, too. The sound mixed together and made her seem totally unhinged, like someone who had lost her mind. It sent chills down people’s spines.
Andrew frowned, handing Tracy to Yedda, and started walking toward Rachel. But then, Yedda let out a panicked scream from behind him.
He turned back fast–and saw Tracy’s face bright red, her tiny hands clutching at her throat.
“Andrew, hurry!” Yedda cried out.
Without thinking, he scooped Tracy up and ran with Yedda toward the emergency room.
Rachel stayed right where she was. She slowly wiped away her tears. Her heart hurt so badly, it felt numb now. She moved stiffly, like a ghost, walking out of the hospital.
Andrew didn’t want her daughter. But she did. She would go bring Jennie home.
He had forgotten something–Jennie and Tracy shared the same birthday. While he was busy worrying about Tracy’s heart, Jennie was being murdered in despair.
But Jennie wouldn’t suffer anymore. Rachel believed she was in heaven now, happy and finally loved.
As for Andrew… he didn’t deserve to be Jennie’s father.
