He Made Me Cry, Then Killed Our Daughter

The accusation was blatant, baseless. And Douglas believed every word.

His hand closed around my throat.

I could barely breathe.

His paranoia was the same as it had ever been, demanding to know if I'd betrayed him.

But this time, I didn't want to endure it. I didn't want to beg.

I was on the verge of suffocating when Roger rushed in, and only then did Douglas let me go.

"If you don't know how to cherish someone, then let her go!"

Crack.

Roger's palm connected with Douglas's face.

Douglas latched onto it like it was proof of something.

"You want my inheritance, and now you want my woman too?"

He pointed at the two of us, shaking with fury.

"My daughter was my whole world! I would rather die than hurt her!"

I couldn't take it anymore.

I clenched my jaw and forced out every word.

"I loved you too, once. Loved you enough to give up everything."

"And this is how you treated me. You couldn't even measure up to your own brother."

Douglas faltered when he saw the grief I couldn't hide.

He watched Roger turn away in silence.

He thought of the agony I'd endured through ten months of pregnancy, the devotion I'd poured into raising our child, the way I used to wait by the door with hope in my eyes.

Reason finally clawed its way back.

"I was wrong about you. I'm sorry."

He scrambled to explain.

"I just couldn't accept that something happened to our daughter. I can't imagine my life without you. I love you too much."

He shot a glare at Roger and then at Claire.

"What are you two standing around for? One of you apologize, and the other one get out of my sight!"

Claire offered a reluctant apology.

Roger stood where he was, unmoving.

"I want Roger to handle the funeral arrangements."

I held firm despite Douglas's protests.

His personality was too volatile. I was afraid that if I left the funeral in his hands, something would go wrong.

"Miss Fox, please don't overthink things. I didn't mean any harm."

She was the one who killed my daughter. Forgiveness was not something I would ever give her.

I wanted to tell her to get out, but Douglas coaxed me instead. "Easy. Don't get worked up."

"Once the funeral is taken care of, I'll make Claire livestream herself kneeling in the ancestral hall for seven days and seven nights. How does that sound?"

I stared at Douglas in disbelief.

"Livestream? You want my daughter's killer in the memorial hall?"

"Are you trying to humiliate me and our daughter? Or are you trying to make sure her soul never finds peace?"

Douglas sighed.

"I'm heartbroken about our daughter too, but life has to go on."

"Let Claire kneel for seven days. We put this behind us. She carries our daughter's eyes and sees the world through them. There's some comfort in that."

So that was how Douglas saw it.

Black was white. Truth was irrelevant.

They stole my daughter's corneas. They stole her life.

And now I was supposed to be grateful to Claire.

Why should seven days on her knees erase a blood debt?

And why should I be the one who had to let go?

"Fine. You want to put this behind us?"

I smiled coldly.

"Gouge out Claire's eyes and give them back to my daughter. Then I'll agree."

Tears spilled instantly from Claire's wide eyes.

She stumbled backward, face white with terror, and fled the room.

Douglas's brow furrowed, his voice rising sharply.

"Letitia! Don't push it!"

"Fix your attitude. There's a limit to how far you can take a tantrum."

Then he walked out after her.

That night, the door to my hospital room opened again.

Claire came in carrying a bowl of porridge, her expression dripping with false concern.

"Miss Fox, I know you're angry with me, but please don't take it out on Douglas."

"This is just a small gesture. Something to help you get your strength back."

I looked down at the bowl. Pig eyeballs floated in the broth.

Nausea surged up my throat before I could stop it.