Chapter 2

The ice water soaked through my collar and down my spine, freezing solid almost instantly.

Nora shuddered violently in my arms. The sharp, desperate wheeze that had been her breathing was suddenly cut off, like something invisible had reached down and squeezed her throat shut.

Her whole body went rigid. Her tiny hands locked onto my collar, knuckles white.

"Nora! Nora, don't be scared, Daddy's here!"

I threw my body around her like a shield, trying to melt the shell of ice forming over her with whatever warmth I had left.

From the second-floor window came the sound of Susan laughing, free and unbothered.

"Wow, Oscar-worthy performance. What a waste of talent."

She swirled a glass of red wine, looking down at me from above like I was a dog sprawled in the snow.

Jason stood beside her, one arm around her waist, watching the whole thing with a grin.

"Babe, look at him shaking. Someone who didn't know better might actually think he was freezing."

"That water had ice cubes in it. Figured these two needed cooling down before they started embarrassing themselves."

I looked up, the corners of my eyes burning, every blood vessel ready to burst.

"Susan! Are you even human? That is your biological daughter!"

"Nora's asthma is real. Her inhaler is on the living room table. Please, just throw it down to me!"

"Whatever you want from me, I'll do it. Just give me the medication!"

In that moment, dignity, pride, every last shred of my self-respect — I threw it all away without a second thought.

All I needed was for my daughter to live.

Susan took a slow sip of wine, her expression dripping with contempt.

"Biological daughter? Ethan, you have a lot of nerve."

"If your people hadn't forced my father's hand back then, do you think I would've ever married a deadbeat like you?"

"That child has your worthless blood in her. She makes me sick just looking at her."

Jason leaned in close to Susan's ear, his voice deliberately loud enough to carry.

"Babe, forget about him, today's my birthday. Don't let this trash ruin the mood."

"Although, with the snow coming down this hard, if something actually happened..."

Susan let out a short, cold huff and turned back into the room, returning with something in her hand.

It was Nora's asthma inhaler.

Hope ignited in my chest. I shuffled forward on my knees, reaching out.

"Give it to me! Susan, please, give it to me!"

Susan dangled the inhaler between her fingers, a slow, cruel smile spreading across her face.

"Want it?"

"Then beg."

"Bark like a dog. Give me two good ones, and I'll think about it."

In my arms, Nora's breathing was fading. Her lips had gone from blue to nearly black.

Her eyes were half open, pupils losing focus — but she was still instinctively curling into my chest.

The will to survive.

My heart felt like it was being sliced apart, piece by piece.

I ground my teeth until my jaw ached. A low, broken sound tore out of my throat.

"Woof. Woof."

For my daughter, I would give up everything.

Susan and Jason exploded into laughter.

Jason doubled over, pointing at me.

"Babe, look at him, he literally sounds like a dog!"

"Well, if he's a dog, he should go fetch."

Susan flicked her wrist.

The inhaler traced an arc through the air.

It didn't come to me.

She hurled it straight into the garbage can in the corner of the yard — the one overflowing with filth.

"Go get it. If you find it, it's yours."

"Though with snow this deep, by the time you dig it out, I'd say that little bastard of yours will be stone cold."

"Ha!"

The window slammed shut.

Cutting off the warm light and laughter inside.

Leaving only the howling wind, the endless snow, and me.

"Nora, hang on. Daddy's getting the medicine, Daddy's going right now!"

I set her down in the corner of the wall where it was slightly less exposed, pulled off my soaked, half-frozen jacket, and draped it over her.

Then I crawled toward the garbage can on all fours.

The snow was thick. Every inch forward felt like dragging myself over broken glass.

But I couldn't feel the pain.

My mind had only one word in it: Medicine. Medicine.

Finally, I toppled the garbage can.

Reeking kitchen waste spilled across the snow in a wet, filthy mess.

I tore through it with my bare hands, glass slicing open my fingers, blood running hot into the cold.

There.

The blue inhaler.

I snatched it up and scrambled back to Nora, half-crawling, half-falling.

"Nora, I've got the medicine! Open your mouth!"

With shaking hands, I pressed the inhaler between her lips and pushed down.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing came out.

Just a hollow hiss.

I went still.

In the dim glow of the streetlight, I read the label.

It was last month's empty canister.

Susan had lied to me.

She'd done it on purpose.

From the very beginning, she never intended to let Nora live.