His New Family, My Daughter's Funeral

In front of everyone, I declined the call and blocked Julian's number.

The head of security looked at me, stunned. “Are you sure? Mr. Thorne, he…”

My voice was hoarse and cold. “Sir, would you let a murderer see his victim one last time?”

On the helicopter ride back to New York, clutching Lily’s body, the preliminary coroner’s report arrived on my phone.

Lily hadn’t died from the impact of the fall. She had signs of severe hypothermia before the fall. She had died slowly, in extreme cold and fear.

Her fingernails were filled with dirt and debris. Before she died, she must have tried so hard to climb back up, to get home. But no one came to save her. She died alone and in despair.

I sat in my Fifth Avenue penthouse all night, until the sun came up.

This apartment, overlooking all of Central Park, was my “golden cage.” It was a cage all of New York envied when Avery the artist married business mogul Julian Thorne.

Now, it was just a cold morgue. I contacted a funeral home and arranged for them to come for Lily.

I walked into her room. Everything was just as she had left it. Her Lego blocks were on the floor, her drawings taped to the wall, and the picture book she was halfway through sat on her desk.

For a moment, I could almost see Lily running to me, signing with her little hands, “Mommy, I love you.”

Oh, my sweet Lily. You looked at me with those innocent eyes and silently promised you’d always be with me. Why? Why did you leave first?

I sat on the sofa, clutching her teddy bear, tears streaming down my face. Just then, Sienna Vance sent me an Instagram direct message with a carefully edited video.

In the video, Julian was on a private ski slope, patiently teaching her daughter, Chloe, how to ski. The scene looked like something out of a movie.

He had a patient, gentle smile on his face that I had never seen when he was with Lily.

In the six years of Lily’s life, he had never taught her a single thing. He wouldn’t even publicly admit she had a psychological condition, only telling people his daughter was “introverted.”

Julian and I had once shared a passionate love.

Before Lily was born, he would kiss my belly and press his ear against it, saying our child would be the brightest star in the world, just like her mother.

But everything changed after Lily was diagnosed with selective mutism. The look in his eyes when he looked at me shifted from adoration to disgust and blame.

“All the prenatal checks were normal. The problem must be with you, Avery. Your fragile, sensitive artist genes ruined her!” he had said. “I don't want a defective child. Send her to a boarding school, and we'll have a healthy one.”

But Lily was my flesh and blood, the baby I had given up my whole world for.

I knelt before him, begging him to let Lily stay. My C-section wound, aggravated by my distress, reopened. Blood seeped through my dress, staining his expensive leather shoes. Only then did he frown and reluctantly agree.

Sienna's message pulled me back to reality. She had already un-sent the video. In the past, I would have immediately called Julian, humbly questioning him.

But now, my heart had died along with my daughter.

I didn't reply. I just blocked Sienna.

It wasn't long before Julian stormed home, still carrying a faint chill of Aspen air and perfume.

The moment he walked in, he grabbed my arm roughly.

“You dare hang up on me and block my number?! Avery, who gave you the nerve?!” he roared.

“Sienna sent you that video by accident, and in response, you sic your followers on her and Chloe? Your own daughter just had an accident, and you have the audacity to play these games?!”