He Chose His Mistress Over Our Daughter

In the dead of summer, her hands were terrifyingly cold.

Every word she spoke carried a fear that had sunk into her bones.

"Why is Daddy defending a man like that?"

"Does he hate me? Doesn't he want me as his daughter anymore?"

"I'm not a good child. I disappointed Daddy, and now Daddy doesn't want me…"

I kept shaking my head, trying to calm her.

But she was like something possessed, calling out the same words over and over.

"Daddy doesn't want me."

"Daddy doesn't want me…"

There was nothing I could do.

I could only chase after Barnaby to make him understand the truth.

He heard the whole story out, then shook my hand off, impatient.

"Cora, could you at least think before you lie?"

"Faye is my daughter. In this city, who would dare lay a hand on her?"

"If she didn't do well on her exams, she can just tell me. There's no need to make up a lie like this to win sympathy!"

I froze, lifting my head in disbelief.

"That's your own daughter. You won't trust her, but you'll trust an outsider?"

Barnaby gave a cold laugh.

"I'm a lawyer. I go by evidence."

"If she can't produce hard, solid proof, then don't blame me for not claiming a daughter who's full of lies!"

"Dad."

My daughter's faint voice came from behind us.

She was wearing the loose hospital gown.

Her thin little hand was still clutching that acceptance letter she'd been so proud of.

"I didn't lie. I really did get into Weston…"

Before she could finish, Barnaby's phone rang.

He glanced at the name on the screen and answered without a moment's hesitation, his voice going soft and soothing.

"Maxine, don't worry. I'm coming right now."

"I'm here. You don't have to worry about anything."

The last bit of light in my daughter's eyes went dark.

The acceptance letter slipped from her hand and drifted off on the wind.

She looked like an old woman at the end of her days, her back bent, her steps unsteady.

All that was left was a soft murmur under her breath.

"So Daddy just doesn't like me after all."

My heart was breaking.

I rushed forward and grabbed Barnaby, trying to force him to go back and apologize to his daughter.

All I got in return was the same impatience on his face.

"Cora, would you stop making a scene?"

Barnaby took out his phone and opened a video.

"I already checked the surveillance."

"Last night, Faye stayed home the whole time. She never went out."

"How could she have been hurt or attacked while she was at home?"

"I know you don't like how close Maxine Pruitt and I have gotten, but you don't have to put our daughter up to slandering an innocent boy!"

An experienced, top-tier lawyer, and he didn't know surveillance footage could be faked?

Barnaby, who'd built his reputation on being objective and thorough, had lost every ounce of his judgment the moment Maxine Pruitt came into his life.

I looked at him and felt, all at once, a deep helplessness.

"Barnaby, back when we married, you said something to me."

"You said no matter what happened later, you would believe in me without wavering, and face it all with me."

"And now? Look at what you've done."

Barnaby smiled, and the smile was full of contempt.

"And what about you? Are you still the Cora you used to be?"

"Suspicious and jealous all day long was bad enough, and now you've raised our daughter into this!"

Faye was wonderful. She was my pride.

Early in his career, Barnaby's stubborn temper had offended plenty of people, and he'd nearly been blacklisted by a group of them.

It was me, carrying our daughter, who went door to door to apologize.