Chapter 2

But this was impossible. Yvonne wouldn't degrade herself in this way. Hermione must be lying to me.

However, there was a voice in my head that told me that she could be right.

My dear daughter could have a darker side that I'd never seen.

Hermione seemed anxious to get the 5,000 dollars from me. She slipped my phone out of my pocket and unlocked it with my face. With a few swipes, she added herself to my Instagram.

Panicked, I grabbed my phone and quickly restricted her from seeing my posts.

If she saw the photos of Yvonne on my social media, that would have been very bad.

Hermione leaned back into my embrace and gave me a kiss. "You work during the day, right? Then we'll arrange for Sunday night, okay? Wait for my text…"

After leaving the nightclub, I somehow made my way back home.

Quietly, I opened the door to Yvonne's bedroom. She was sleeping peacefully in bed, completely oblivious to my dilemma.

Should I call the police?

No, I shouldn't. If I called the police, Yvonne's life would be ruined, and she would become an outcast. She might even kill herself.

I wouldn't be able to live with that.

I closed the door to her bedroom and collapsed to the ground, knees weak.

What should I do?

Who could help me?

Just then, I heard a soft chime coming from the bag in the entryway. It was an Instagram message notification.

I struggled to my feet. It was from her other phone—I'd always known that Yvonne had two phones, but I'd never questioned it before.

I knew that checking her messages was a violation of her privacy, but I had to look now.

It was a simple message from Hermione. "We're meeting a client on Sunday."

I put the phone back where it was and went to bed. A sense of helplessness overwhelmed me.

Had I been too focused on making money that I'd neglected Yvonne? Was that why she had gone astray?

I had to stop her.

If I kept her in my sights, then she wouldn't be able to participate in that filthy business.

For the next few days, I took leave from work and planted myself firmly by Yvonne's side.

I brought her to the theme park that she had been longing to visit and even dressed up with her.

It was the first time in five years that I'd ignored calls from my boss and devoted all my time to her.

Yvonne's smile dispelled the dark emotions in my mind.

I vowed to bring back the mischievous and adorable daughter I once knew.

However, that Sunday, a message from Hermione shattered all my hope.

"Sir, I've booked a room for us at the Ziton Hotel, Room 1802. Don't forget to include the charges in our payment. My friend and I will be waiting, all clean and ready for you!"

I looked up at Yvonne, who was texting on her phone. My heart sank.

Had she really agreed to this?

I had to stop her!

I sent Hermione some money and texted her, "Sorry, I'm out of town these few days. We won't be able to meet up this weekend."

Hermione replied quickly. "Aw, that's such a pity!"

I put my phone back into my pocket.

No one could stop me from protecting my daughter.

Without the client, the transaction naturally couldn't continue.

Back at home, after we both washed up, I watched Yvonne enter her bedroom. Only then did I relax.

Just in case, I decided to sleep on the couch.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed when I woke up and found a thin blanket draped over me.

Yvonne was gone.

I searched the entire house. She'd left while I was asleep, that was for sure.

I tried to call her, but her phone had been turned off.

Hastily, I texted Hermione. "I'm back. What are you doing?"

"You're too late. You flaked on us first. We've found ourselves a new client," she texted back soon.

I threw on my coat and stormed out, remembering the text that Hermione had sent me earlier—Ziton Hotel, Room 1802.

I sped to the hotel, running several red lights, and made my way to Room 1802.

I slid a bank card into the doorframe, pushing it hard until the lock clicked open.

Room 1802 was a suite. Trembling, I stepped into the living room. From the bedroom, I could hear familiar laughter and heavy breathing.

I knew, instinctively, that I would not like what I saw in there.

Quietly, I pushed the door ajar and peered through the crack.

My body was numb when I saw the revolting scene inside. My heart seemed to stop beating for a moment when I saw my daughter.