He Sacrificed Our Daughter for His Mistress’s Promotion

Laughter erupted from the crowd.

Claire smirked and stepped forward like she was going to help me up.

Instead, I got my first close look at my daughter, burned beyond recognition.

Her breath was shallow, every exhale a painful moan that sounded like a broken whisper of “Mom…”

My heart shattered.

I reached out, trembling, wanting to hold her.

But before I could even touch her, Claire screamed and let herself fall backward on purpose.

My daughter tumbled from her arms and hit the ground with a sickening thud.

“My baby!!”

I crawled toward her, but Ethan shoved me down and held me there.

His eyes were red with rage.

“Rachel! How could you be so heartless?! Trying to kill your own daughter?!”

I shook my head desperately, tears blurring my vision.

I could only watch as Claire picked my daughter up like she was some discarded trash and held her again.

She looked down at me, smug.

“Rachel, even if you kill her, it won’t change the fact that you nearly burned her to death.”

“If you really care about her, then redeem. That’s the only way I can maybe trust you with her again.”

The crowd was eating it up.

Some started chanting.

“Redeem! Redeem! Redeem!”

Bottles and trash were thrown at my head and body.

In the chaos, Claire and Ethan exchanged triumphant glances.

My daughter’s limp little body in her arms felt like knives piercing my chest.

I gripped my phone tightly, the edge cutting into my hand.

Staring at the two of them, I said coldly, “Claire, you know where I went before the fire.”

“If you don’t want the little image you built for yourself to collapse, give my daughter back!”

Her eyes flashed with panic.

But before I could pull out the photo, Ethan stormed over and stomped on my hand.

Then he flipped my bag over and dumped everything out.

He picked up a few photos and sneered.

“Of course, I know where you went. I’ve got your whole little affair documented.”

The crowd erupted again.

Scattered among my things were photos—dozens of them—of me in revealing clothes, in bed with some stranger.

People snatched them up instantly, showing them to the live stream camera one by one.

“Wow, so many guys? She’s not just cheating—she’s a whore!”

“At her age? Probably making money with that limp of hers.”

“Poor fire chief, he’s been raising someone else’s kid!”

“No wonder she tried to burn her own daughter. Probably to cover it up!”

The venom was endless.

Ethan laid the photos out in front of me like trophies.

“Rachel, do you admit your guilt now?” It hit me then.

He had searched my bag earlier, not to check for damage from the fire but to plant these fake photos.

I grabbed my phone to fight back.

But he crushed my hand, grabbed my hair and forced me to watch his screen.

The live stream was exploding with tens of thousands of viewers and comments were scrolling faster than I could read.