In Bed With Another Woman After Our Daughter's Funeral
Chapter 1
Ethan Sinclair and I had been married for five years—and for those same five years, his beloved "first love" had also carried the title of Mrs. Sinclair in his heart.
I endured everything in silence for the sake of our daughter, Lily Sinclair. I swallowed every indignity, every cold shoulder, every night he never came home.
Until that day—when Lily, innocent and full of longing, called him "dad" in front of a crowd. The words seemed to burn through the illusion he clung to, and his first love was left in tears.
He was furious. But not to himself. Not at the twisted arrangement he forced us into. No—he turned his wrath on our daughter.
To punish her, he tied her to a high-speed jump machine at a party, knowing full well about her congenital heart disease.
I rushed over and dropped to my knees, tears streaming down my face as I begged, “Lily can’t take this. Please, punish me instead. If you have resentment, take it out on me—just not her!”
But he stared down at me with eyes as cold as frost.
“Children aren’t that fragile,” he scoffed. “It’s just a ride. She won’t die.”
But she did.
That night, I held my baby girl’s still, lifeless body in my arms. Her lips were pale, her little fingers were already cold. I couldn't even scream—I just crumbled in silence, consumed by the emptiness left behind.
And where was he? Celebrating.
He threw a lavish birthday party for his first love, naming a star after her for the occasion. Photos of the night splashed across social media: candles, roses, diamonds, and the woman who had taken everything from me.
When my mother-in-law arrived the next morning, I was sitting in a daze, cradling Lily’s urn.
“Mom,” I whispered, voice hoarse from crying, “I don’t want anything anymore. I just want to leave. Please… help me.”
——
She froze, her eyes welling with tears. “Hannah, I know your heart is broken over Lily, but Ethan—”
She didn’t get to finish. Two nurses walking past stopped to talk in excitement.
“Did you see the news? Mr. Sinclair bought a star and named it after his wife for her birthday. It’s so romantic!”
“I know! And he said, ‘If she’s happy, I’d give her my life.’ God, if I ever met a man like that, I could die happy!”
Their words pierced through me like knives. My grief, which had only just quieted, came flooding back.
How absurd.
After five years of marriage, Ethan never acknowledged me or our daughter publicly.
He forbade Lily from calling him "dad."
Outside of his immediate family, no one even knew he had a wife, let alone a child.
My mother-in-law’s chest rose and fell rapidly as her rage mounted.
She turned to me just as I began to weep silently. Her fury melted into heartache.
She knelt beside me and gently took my hands, chilled to the bone.
Tears welled in her eyes, but the words she wanted to say—words to stop me—never came out.
Instead, she whispered, “Okay, Hannah… Mom will let you go.”
I nodded and stood up, clutching the small white urn to my chest.
Forcing a smile, I said softly, “Thank you, Mom.”
She turned away, wiping her tears quickly. Trying to sound composed, she said, “Once Lily’s funeral is over… then you can go, alright?”
During the five years I was trapped in the Sinclair family, Lily never had the chance to see the world.
I nodded again and made my final request.
“Since he never liked her, I won’t leave her here to burden him. I’ll take her with me when I leave.”
My mother-in-law opened her mouth to protest. She had wanted Lily buried in the Sinclair family cemetery.
But she couldn’t say it—not after everything Ethan had done.
In the end, she only whispered a choked, “Alright.”
Her grief turned to fury. With trembling fingers, she dialed her son’s number.
However, after the call went unanswered, I met only with a robotic message.
Her lips curled in bitter laughter. Still, she didn’t stop.
Finally, five minutes later, the line connected.
“What is it, Mom?”
His voice was hoarse—raspy with desire.
And in the background, a woman’s low moans and muffled laughter echoed clearly.
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