Chapter 3

Back home, I found myself saying, "Millie, be good. Mommy's making your favorite for dinner tonight—baked ribs."

Silence answered me.

That's when I remembered—Millie was gone.

Just like my mother before her. Everyone I love slips away, leaving me alone.

My strength gave out, and I collapsed onto the bed, clutching Millie's favorite doll, holding it tight as if her scent still lingered on it.

Millie had always been so easy to reassure; she believed anything I told her. Every birthday, she'd sit on her little stool, waiting for her dad. And every year, Liam never showed.

When she was diagnosed, I called him over and over as her birthday came up, but he never answered. So I put on a smile and said, "Daddy's on a secret mission and can't be here, but he sent you a special gift." Then I handed her the doll.

Millie hugged that "gift from Daddy" right up until her last breath.

I used to tell myself Liam just wasn't one for remembering birthdays. But one day, I saw him post a picture celebrating Vivian's niece. The room was packed with plush toys, covering every inch of the place.

So he did remember birthdays. He just didn't care about ours.

Then I heard the front door code beep.

I barely made it out of the bedroom before Liam grabbed me by the throat, slamming me against the wall. Pain shot through my back.

"Where are you hiding Millie?" His voice was like ice. "Why did the school say she hasn't attended in over six months?

"Your mother gave her life for me, and for ten years my family's looked after you. Wasn't that enough?

"I put up with you using Millie to cling to me, and now what? Trying to force me to marry you by hiding her?"

The pain in my chest and throat was crushing; I couldn't even gasp for air.

My Millie—she could barely stand, let alone go to school. She waited for him until her last breath, and he never showed.

I remembered her birthday, just a week before she died. Liam had promised to visit, and she sat by the window, her face lighting up when she saw him heading toward the building. She clapped, smiling—right as he turned and walked away.

Later, I learned why. Vivian had called him, drunk and crying. "Liam, I know I shouldn't love you, but I can't help it," she'd sobbed.

He didn't even bother apologizing for breaking his promise, brushing it off with, "Millie has you, doesn't she? Just give her extra vitamins or something. Vivian was on the roof—I couldn't risk her doing something reckless."

Hot tears blurred my vision, and his grip loosened. For a split second, he lifted his hand, like he might actually wipe away my tears.

But then Vivian's cold gaze cut between us, freezing his hand midair. "Liam, can't you just talk things over calmly?

"Andrea, did he hurt you? Don't blame him—he's just worried sick about Millie.

"I know you don't want to let her go with him, but hiding her isn't the answer."

A bitter laugh slipped out. I turned to Liam. "Why is she even here?"

His expression turned steely. "You should be grateful she is. If it weren't for Vivian, I might've choked you to death tonight. Now, tell me—where is Millie?"