Chapter 2

I should've woken up a long time ago.

Liam changed ages ago, but I didn't see it.

My mom worked as a maid for the Harringtons. Ten years ago, during a break-in, she gave her life to protect Liam. The family showered me with gratitude.

"Sweet child, without your mother, we wouldn't be here today."

Even Liam, usually all cool and reserved, took my hand and promised, "Andrea, don't worry. I'll protect you forever."

Turns out, I was the only one who believed it.

Back then, he treated me well, and I fell hard. I had Millie before we even got married, sure that love and marriage would follow.

But once he took over the company, another woman started creeping into his life.

Vivian's name kept popping up. He'd go on about her intelligence, her "understanding nature." He couldn't even hide the grin on his face when he talked about her.

Once, I couldn't help it and asked, "Liam, could we just... not talk about Vivian tomorrow?"

He looked surprised, then chuckled. "Are you jealous?"

I brushed it off, telling myself it was all just business.

But then there was a smudge of makeup on his suit, the strange perfume in his car. He missed Millie's kindergarten activity because he was "walking dogs" with Vivian. And when I had a fever, he barely glanced at me before running off to tend to Vivian's "terrible cramps."

The signs were all there. I couldn't keep pretending.

"Liam, what's really going on between you and Vivian?"

He didn't even try to lie. "You're not my wife. What right do you have to question me? I support you and Millie—be grateful. I don't owe you anything."

I bit my lip, swallowing the shame. To him, I was just a hidden lover, a secret to keep quiet. His kindness had always been charity.

Then Millie was diagnosed with leukemia, and her health started slipping. By then, Liam had stopped coming around entirely.

For her fifth birthday, Millie wished for one thing—to celebrate with her dad. But on the day, Liam chose a trip with Vivian, leaving her wish unanswered.

Desperate, I begged him over the phone. "Millie doesn't have much time left. She just wants one birthday with you. Please."

He laughed coldly. "Really? This your latest stunt? Using your dead mom wasn't enough, now it's our daughter for pity? Disgusting. Don't mess with her head. Learn from Vivian—she's got a real heart."

"Please," I begged, holding back tears. "I'm not lying. Millie really is dying."

He sneered. "Then let her die."

That night, Millie took her last breath in my arms.

That morning, I'd dressed her in her favorite dress. She was so thin, barely a wisp, but she stood on her tiptoes, touched my face, and tried to comfort me. "Don't cry, Mommy. Do I look pretty?"

Before they wheeled her into the ER, she clutched my hand tight. "I haven't seen Daddy yet... I don't want to go in. Mommy, Daddy's coming, right?"

Swallowing my tears, I promised her he'd be there when she came out.

The doors closed, and I broke down.

Later that night, Vivian posted: [Finally taking that couples' trip someone promised me!] with a photo of their hands intertwined.

How could I tell Millie? Her dad was miles away, wrapped up in his trip with Vivian.

In her last moments, Millie managed a tiny smile and whispered, "Daddy's late. I'm so tired, Mommy. I'll just take a nap... Wake me up when he gets here, okay?"