Chapter 3

Benedict finally came home that evening, with Lorelei and Penelope behind him.

"Lorelei and Penelope wanted to stop by and see how Amelia's doing."

I blocked the door. "They're not coming in. They're not welcome here."

Benedict shoved me aside.

"What is wrong with you? I let your attitude slide when it's just us, but we have guests. Do you really have to start something in front of them, too?"

I wasn't backing down this time. I wasn't going to let anyone who had hurt my daughter come anywhere near her again.

When Benedict realized I had no intention of moving, he forced a polite smile and turned to Lorelei and Penelope, not wanting the argument to escalate.

"Sorry about this. Let's take a rain check."

The door had barely closed behind them when I shoved my phone in front of his face.

"This is the security footage from Amelia's classroom. Watch it."

Benedict gave me an annoyed look, then reluctantly took the phone as if humoring me was some huge favor.

He didn't make it past the first few seconds.

With a frustrated sigh, he pushed the phone back toward me, called Amelia into the living room, and pointed at the opening scene.

"Why were you trying to take something that wasn't yours?" he chided.

Whatever hope I'd still been holding on to disappeared with that one question.

Amelia was so frightened that she didn't dare speak. I picked her up and faced Benedict. "Can you at least finish watching the video before you decide she's guilty? Penelope brought a whole group of kids over to gang up on Amelia!"

Benedict scoffed.

"They're kindergartners, Clarissa. They don't even understand what bullying is. Stop picking up dramatic words online and throwing them around every time something happens."

Amelia suddenly turned in my arms and clung to me, resting her chin on my shoulder without saying a word.

I was afraid that arguing in front of her would only make things worse, so I carried her back to her bedroom.

When I came out, I deliberately kept my voice low.

"Penelope's been telling the other kids that Amelia is trying to steal her father. Now, everyone at school is shutting her out, and nobody will play with her. Amelia's not acting like herself anymore. I think we should have her talk to a doctor."

Benedict looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "What, do you have cash to burn? You're making a mountain out of a molehill."

With that, he went into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

I stood there, taking one deep breath after another until I finally got myself under control.

Only then did I put a smile on my face and go back to Amelia.

I sat beside her and gently asked why she'd tried to take the box from Penelope.

Amelia leaned in, cupped her hands around my ear, and whispered, "It was Daddy's birthday present. Don't tell him yet, Mommy. I want it to be a surprise."

I looked at her in surprise, then nodded without a word.

That night, Amelia couldn't sleep.

I stayed beside her and gently patted her until she finally drifted off, but before long, she woke screaming from a nightmare.

So, I soothed her back to sleep again.

Then, it happened again, and the cycle repeated itself until daybreak.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong, so I took Amelia to a psychiatrist anyway.

It took a lot of careful probing before she finally began to open up.

Between hiccuping sobs, she said, "They hit me every day. They stand around me and laugh. It makes me feel so sad…"

The psychiatrist diagnosed her with moderate depression.

I sent the diagnosis to Benedict, asking him to pay more attention to Amelia and make an effort to cheer her up when he was home.

Instead, when he came back, he started another argument.

"You took her to a psychiatrist? What are people supposed to think now, that there's something mentally wrong with our kid?"

That was the last straw.

"Benedict, you tell everyone that Amelia means more to you than anything. So which matters more to you, your daughter's health or what people think of you?" I demanded.

His eyes widened in anger.

Then, he stormed toward the door. "Fine. You're the one who matters most. Happy now? Apparently, the entire world is supposed to revolve around whatever you think is right!"

He slammed the door behind him.

When I turned around, I realized Amelia was standing in the doorway. I had no idea how long she'd been listening.

I started toward her, wanting to hold her, but she closed the door before I could reach her. "Mommy, I'm going to sleep."

She was shutting herself off more and more.

I stepped outside and called her teacher, intending to transfer Amelia to another school.

Amelia was diagnosed with depression and was being bullied at school.

Some parents might find those words embarrassing or uncomfortable. But if even a child's own parents treated her like the problem, then who was supposed to save her?