Chapter 1

As soon as Gemma Waverly's words fell, my mother-in-law, Margaret Holloway, affectionately teased her for remembering such ancient history.

My husband, Ian Beaumont, also shook his head helplessly, his eyes filled with affection.

Looking at the three of them acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary, my head began to buzz, and an overwhelming sense of absurdity washed over me.

As Gemma casually wove her tale, the hit-and-run vehicle, the road stretch where surveillance cameras happened to be out for maintenance, and the autopsy's conclusion that she had lost her breath almost instantly slowly began to overlap with the details of the case I had obsessively, sleeplessly investigated five years ago after finding my daughter, Soleil Beaumont, dead in a cold, filthy ditch.

I ultimately couldn't withstand the devastating shock of her words and began dry-heaving. The room plunged into an awkward silence.

Margaret's expression darkened, and she curled her lips, grumbling, "Morning sickness at a time like this... Who are you putting on a show for?"

I was so dizzy from vomiting that I had no time to concern myself with her unreasonable jab. I could only cling onto Ian's arm as he reached out to support me.

I stared at him intently. There was instinctive concern for my discomfort and a trace of barely perceptible impatience. There was helplessness and indulgence for Gemma, but there was not a single shred of grief that belonged to a father who had lost his child.

I refused to believe that he didn't hear how wrong Gemma's story sounded. Yet, he was so calm, as if he had heard it a thousand times before, as though he had known the truth all along.

My heart chilled to the core as a horrifying truth began to come to light. "Ian." I clutched his sleeve with all the strength I had left, the depths of my eyes filled with despair. "Is the stretch of road where Gemma was speeding the back street of Starlight Academy?"

The concern on his face instantly froze, and he gaped at me. Gemma's reaction was even stronger. She knocked her chair back with a loud clatter, her expression shifting from disdain to wariness.

Perhaps realizing that her reaction was far too abnormal, she suppressed the doubt and shock in her eyes and forced a smile. "Helena, you must've misheard... I didn't mention which street…"

I braced myself and slowly rose to my feet. My voice drifted out as though it had come from a distant realm, choked with emotion.

"Five years ago, a car accident happened on a street where all the surveillance cameras were under maintenance. The hit-and-run scene where the cops couldn't find the culprit. The purple paint chips from the car found in Soleil's blood during her autopsy. Should I continue?"

Every single word I said carried memories stained with blood. Every tiny detail I mentioned pushed me further onto the ragged edge of a breakdown.

The strained smile on her face completely shattered, and a flicker of panic flashed through her eyes. A moment later, as if she had suddenly remembered something, she shrieked, "No, don't you dare slander me! You don't even remember what happened to Soleil because of your medication, and now you want to frame me..."

Her words hit like a sledgehammer, crushing my heart into a bloody mess. I never expected that a white lie—told out of fear that Ian, a top psychiatrist, would feel defeated if he couldn't cure my psychological trauma, claiming the medication had wiped my memories of Soleil—would come back to bite me in the arse. Little did I know, my kindness would become the very dagger they used to stab me in public.

At that moment, it dawned on Ian that I had never forgotten Soleil's death for even a second. He raised his hand hesitantly and tried to wipe away the tears at the corners of my eyes.

I flinched away. His hand froze in midair, but he desperately tried to maintain his composure and coax me. "Calm down, Helena. These are just hallucinations caused by your medication. Gem was just telling a story..."

I let out a bitter chuckle before bursting into tears and pointing at my own stomach. "How do you think I risked conceiving this child, Ian? I stopped taking my medication a long time ago. I'm perfectly lucid, and I'm not hallucinating."

Step by step, I backed away. My eyes brimmed with tears as bitter bile rose in my throat.

"I'm calling the cops." I turned to leave, but in the very next second, a sharp pain shot through my arm.