Chapter 1

"Mommy, I'm so hungry. When I was five, we starved to death together on the side of the road," my newborn daughter, Kayla Green, said. "Mommy, can we just leave Daddy? Please?"

My eyes turned cold. Christian Green had probably forgotten who had given him the life he had today.

I was the only daughter of the Stone family. Back then, I was the one who convinced my family to invest in him and helped him build his business from the ground up.

Without me, Christian would still be renting a tiny partitioned room in one of the city's rundown apartments.

I looked at Kayla in my arms and held her even tighter. "It's okay, sweetheart. In this lifetime, no one is ever going to hurt us again."

The hospital room fell silent. Kayla's voice drifted into my mind in scattered fragments, speaking whatever crossed her mind.

"Mommy, Daddy isn't at the hospital now because he went to pick up that lady. Her name is Summer Knightley. He always picks her up, even when it rains or snows. But he's never picked you up, Mommy.

"Three days later, he transfers the first batch of money—70 thousand dollars. A week later, that lady visits you in the hospital. She holds me in her arms and says, 'What an adorable baby. She looks more like her father.'

"You smile and pour her a glass of water. She lowers her head to take a sip, smiling the whole time. You didn't know a thing then.

"A month later, Daddy hands you a stack of papers. You ask him what they are. He says, 'Just sign them.' That lady sits beside him, peeling an apple. She smiles and tells you, 'Just sign it, Marilyn. Christian would never hurt you, would he?'

"You take the apple from her, bite into it, and sign your name. A year later, the court hands down its judgment. The apartment and car go to him. Outside the courthouse, they make a phone call.

"He laughs and says, 'It's done.' She laughs, too, and says. 'I told you she'd be easy to fool.' After that, he keeps sending you to ask Grandpa for money time after time. Every time, he uses the same excuse.

"That lady sits beside Grandpa during dinner, serving him food with a smile. She tells him, 'Don't worry, Mr. Stone. I've invested in this project, too. Grandpa believes her.

"Within six months, he gives them money three times—a million dollars in total. Every penny goes into Nocturne Media. That lady is listed as the legal representative, while Daddy is the one pulling the strings.

"The day the company goes bankrupt, Daddy asks you for a divorce. You tell him I'm still too young. He looks you straight in the eye and says, 'You gave birth to that kid. What's she got to do with me?'

"You take me with you when we move into a first-floor apartment unit. It's only 130 square feet—no windows, just mold covering the walls. I cough every night.

"You leave every morning looking for work. Every night, you come home with red, puffy eyes. The only thing on your CV is the years you spent working for Daddy.

"Grandpa passes away in a nursing home, not in a hospital. You can't afford the hospital bills. Mr. Hudson visits him every week. The last time he sees him, Grandpa grabs his hand and calls your name.

"Mistaking Mr. Hudson for you, he smiles. The next day, he's gone. You carry me onto an overpass. The wind is so strong, while cars race beneath us. You stand there for a long, long time.

"I tell you, 'Mommy, I'm cold.' You lower your head and look at me. By then, there's nothing left in your eyes."

I closed my eyes and carved every single word into my memory.

Just then, Alistair Hudson's chat window lit up with three new messages.

The first read, "Christian owns three companies. Nocturne Media was registered last June. The legal representative is Summer Knightley. Paid-up capital is zero."

The second read, "Summer, Christian's college classmate, returned to the country last May and is currently serving as his personal assistant."

The third read, "Christian arrived at the airport an hour ago. He picked Summer up—the woman in this photo."

I turned my phone over, leaving the screen facedown. My hand was trembling.