Chapter 3

Early the next morning, while Emma was being wheeled away for tests by the nurse, I took a taxi to the courthouse as agreed.

Ethan and I quickly completed the formalities and received the receipt.

We just had to wait for the paperwork to go through before the divorce was final.

Ethan looked at me, a flash of guilt crossing his eyes.

He said, "Don't worry, I won't short you a penny of child support after the divorce."

I looked down at my phone to call a rideshare, anxious to get back to the hospital to be with my daughter. I wasn't in the mood to listen to him talk.

Seeing that I didn't respond, Ethan continued, "We don't have anything in common anymore. I don't love you anymore. Even if we divorce, there's no need to become enemies. I'm still the child's father."

The corner of my mouth twitched imperceptibly. I watched the car getting closer and closer on the app.

I gave him a faint smile. "I'm heading back to the hospital. See you in thirty days."

The car had arrived. Without looking at Ethan's expression, I opened the door and got in.

I looked at the divorce papers in my hand. Soon, we'd be nothing to each other.

Over the next few days, Ethan didn't come to the hospital. He didn't even call once.

Emma asked about her father several times.

I hugged Emma with a heavy heart. "Daddy will be busier and busier from now on. He won't be able to see you often, but Mommy will always be with you."

Five days later, Zach came.

He poked his head around the hospital room door, dragging a suitcase behind him.

"Ms. Hayes... Mr. Carter asked me to bring your things over."

"He said since you signed the papers, you probably don't want to go back to that house anyway. Saves you the trouble of looking at it."

I glanced at the suitcase.

Ethan thought I was taking up space and was eager to kick us out.

"Just leave it there."

Emma had just woken up and was rubbing her eyes, saying she was hungry.

I poured Zach a glass of water and asked him to watch the child while I went to buy breakfast.

When I came back with breakfast, before I even entered the room, I heard Emma crying.

I pushed the door open. Zach was frantically trying to comfort the child with his phone.

"What happened?"

I picked up my daughter, her face red from crying.

Emma pointed at Zach's phone screen, sobbing. "That's the castle Daddy promised to build with me... That's my castle..."

I glanced at the screen.

It was an Ins interface. The person who posted was named Mia, her profile picture showing a woman's silhouette.

The image showed a huge LEGO Disney castle, half-assembled.

That was the birthday gift Ethan had bought for Emma six months ago. It had been gathering dust in a corner of his study.

Now it was appearing on someone else's living room carpet.

The woman named Mia had posted it with a caption: "This guy is so clumsy. Took him all night just to finish the foundation."

Posted at 2 AM today.

At that time, Emma had just finished surgery and was in so much pain she couldn't sleep, calling for her daddy.

And he was building blocks with another woman.

I took Zach's phone and looked at that SnapChat account.

I said nothing and returned the phone to him.

"Sweetie, that one got dirty. We don't want it anymore."

I wiped Emma's tears. "Mommy will buy you a new one."

After soothing Emma to sleep, I opened my computer again and got to work.

Ethan had always thought that over the past six years, all I'd learned was how to cook and take care of children.

He didn't know that I had set up the smart home system in the house, and all the device logs were automatically uploaded to the cloud.

I hit enter.

A long string of data streams appeared on the screen.

Last night at 1 AM, the smart speaker in the study had a wake record.

An audio recording played automatically.

"Ethan, this castle is too hard. I don't want to play anymore."

It was a young woman's voice, coquettish and syrupy.

Then came Ethan's voice, with a patience and indulgence I'd never heard from him.

"Try one more time. When we finish building it, I'll take you to the Maldives."

"What about your wife? If she finds out you gave me the gift meant for your daughter, won't she make a scene?"

"She only thinks about the kid now. She won't even notice these things."

The recording cut off abruptly.

For six years, I'd managed the household impeccably, helping him transform from a small startup owner into today's tech mogul.

In the end, in his words, I'd become the frumpy housewife who only knew how to serve the child.