Chapter 2

He walked in holding a bag from Starbucks. Seeing me in the living room, he smiled.

"Hey, you're up? I got you a tuna sandwich and a latte."

He sounded so natural.

As if nothing had happened.

As if he hadn't taken our three-year-old daughter to a sketchy massage parlor.

I sat on the couch, silent, just staring at him.

My stare made him uneasy. He set the bag on the coffee table and walked over. "What's wrong? You look pale. Didn't sleep well?"

"Where were you?" I heard my own voice. It was chillingly calm.

"At the office, pulling an overtime shift. I told you, the new project..."

"I’m asking you," I interrupted, looking straight into his eyes. "Where did you take Lily last week?"

His expression didn't change. His eyes didn't even flicker.

"The theme park. I told you, we went to Wonderland. The kid went absolutely wild. She wouldn't even take a bath when we got back."

He even laughed as he spoke, acting as if he were reminiscing about a sweet father-daughter memory.

Looking at him, a cold shiver ran down my spine.

This man could lie right to my face without even blinking.

"Julian," I called his full name.

He blinked, surprised. I rarely used his full name.

"I’m asking you one more time. Where did you take Lily?"

Finally, a crack appeared in his composure. His brows furrowed.

"What is that supposed to mean?" His tone shifted, turning defensive. "What are you accusing me of?"

I didn't answer. I stood up, walked over, and looked up at him.

He was a head taller than me. In our seven years of marriage, I always had to look up to talk to him.

I used to think of it as a comforting presence. Now, it just made me sick.

"Lily told me," I said, word by word.

The air in the room froze.

His face visibly cracked, but only for a fraction of a second.

He quickly recovered, even letting out a soft chuckle.

"You’re seriously believing a toddler? Lily is three. She can’t even tell the difference between fantasy and reality."

"Oh? Then tell me which part of what she said is fantasy."

My voice finally began to shake, fueled by pure rage.

"She said strange ladies in robes crowded around her, and some of them were crying. Tell me, Julian, what kind of theme park has crying women in robes?"

He stared at me, his eyes turning cold.

It wasn't a guilty look. It was annoyance.

As if I were throwing a childish tantrum and causing him unnecessary trouble.

"You're overthinking things." He turned around, grabbing the Starbucks bag. His voice was as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Lily’s been watching too many cartoons lately. Kids mix up TV and real life all the time. Don't make a big deal out of nothing."

"Julian."

"Enough!" he snapped, spinning around, his voice suddenly booming.

"Are you seriously trying to pick a fight first thing in the morning? I worked until 3:00 AM, and I come home to this drama? If you think I'm such a bad father, then you take care of her from now on. I’m done!"

He slammed the bag down. The sandwich rolled out onto the floor.

He was throwing a tantrum, turning the tables, using anger to mask his guilt.

I saw right through him.

For the first time in seven years, I saw him with absolute clarity.

"Give me the name of the place," I said, my voice steadier than ever.

He froze.

"What place? What are you talking about?"

"The place you took Lily." I locked eyes with him. "Give me the name. I’ll go check their security footage. If everything is fine, I will apologize to you."

His pupils dilated instantly.

Finally, he was panicking.

"Are you insane?!" his voice pitched higher. "You want to investigate me? After all these years, you don't even have this basic level of trust?"

"Didn't you say I'm overthinking?" I smiled coldly. "Then let me check and prove I'm wrong. Prove you're still the perfect husband and father. What are you so afraid of?"