Chapter 3

When I got back inside, Tyler had already gone upstairs.

He was sprawled out on the bed, his screen glowing with a video game interface.

"You're back? Where's Stella?" I asked.

"She's downstairs playing with the other kids," he muttered, not looking up.

I stared at the side of his face for three long seconds.

With a cold laugh, I turned and went into the bathroom.

As the hot water sprayed over me, I closed my eyes. Images from the last three years flashed through my mind.

From my pregnancy until now, Tyler’s version of fatherhood was strictly "aesthetic."

He never accompanied me to a single prenatal checkup, claiming he was too busy with work.

The day I went into labor, he was "on a business trip." I had to sign the consent forms myself.

During my postpartum recovery, he complained that the baby's crying ruined his sleep and moved straight into the guest bedroom.

When Stella had a 104-degree fever, I called him crying. He said he was at a business dinner and told me to just Uber to the hospital myself.

Yet, on his Instagram, he was a completely different person.

"Day one of being a girl-dad."

"She said 'Daddy' for the first time today!"

"Newbie dad diaper duty is officially active!"

Every photo was heavily edited, and the comment section was filled with people praising him as the "perfect husband and father."

I turned off the shower, dried myself, and walked out.

Tyler was asleep. His phone was still on, the game still running.

I walked over, picked up his phone, turned off the screen, and slapped him hard across the face.

"Where is my daughter?"

"Huh?" He rubbed his eyes, groggy. "Didn't I tell you? She's playing downstairs."

I faked a look of pure panic. "I searched everywhere. She's not downstairs."

He still looked incredibly relaxed.

"Maybe she wandered over to the neighborhood park? She said she wanted to go on the swings there a couple of days ago."

"I checked there too!"

My voice raised a few octaves. "I searched the entire neighborhood, Tyler! She's gone! If anything happens to her, I will ruin you!"

He slowly sat up and yawned.

"What's the rush? Kids love to play. She'll probably just walk back in a bit."

"Is this how you watch our child? Go out and look for her right now! Don't you dare come back without her!"

Tyler’s face darkened, but he didn't say anything else. He grabbed his jacket and walked out.

Over the next few hours, he called me several times on Snapchat, but I ignored every single one.

He was probably panicking now. Good. Let him suffer.

Late that night, he finally returned.

"Did you find her? Where is she?!"

I covered my mouth, pretending to cry, though I was actually trying to suppress a laugh.

I was just about to tell him that I had sent her to my mother's, but he spoke first.

"Chloe, I know losing Stella is a big deal, but you need to calm down."

I froze. "What?"

"I’ve already made a decision."

He sat down on the sofa and patted the back of my hand.

"If we can't find Stella, we can't just let our lives stop."

The fake panic dried up instantly. I looked at him, my expression turning dead serious. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean..."

He looked me dead in the eyes, speaking slowly. "You can't have kids anymore anyway. I can't just have no legacy, right? We need someone to carry on the family name."

"So, I took care of something today."

He stood up and pulled open the front door.

A woman in her late twenties was standing in the hallway, holding a little boy who looked about two years old.

"This is my colleague, Hazel. And this is Leo. He's an orphan. I'm going to adopt him."

"From now on, he’s our son."