But the bank records showed nothing unusual. It was as if that money had never existed at all.
Everyone thought I'd gone mad. But I knew that money was real.
Then came the accident. Nora fell from her hospital bed. Her fragile skin tore open, wounds spreading across her tiny body. Infection set in.
She never recovered.
I wanted to end everything—to follow my daughter into the dark. But before I could, I stumbled upon the truth.
It had all been a conspiracy. My husband and his precious first love, working together.
The three million I'd traded my life for? He'd secretly transferred it to extend Anita Pruitt's dying son's life by ten years.
Because it was dark magic, no trace remained.
He'd even forged psychiatric records in my name—just to make sure no one would ever believe me. All to keep his mistress calm.
Every time I remembered Nora lying in the ICU, her entire body wrapped in gauze, crying so softly because even tears hurt her skin—
It felt like a knife twisting in my chest.
This time, I would make sure this cheating bastard and his whore knew exactly what it felt like to have their lives stolen from them.