My Wife Had Another Family and They Abused My Daughter

Floyd's POV

I’d been away on a work trip overseas for a year when I suddenly received a selfie from my daughter, Zera Johnson with a message, saying, [Daddy, I miss you.]

I thought she was just feeling down because she missed me. I was about to reply with some comforting words when I noticed a faint scratch on her collarbone. Curious, I zoomed in. That’s when I realized it wasn’t just a single scratch — there were dark bruises trailing down her arm as well.

As I mulled over what I was seeing, I mindlessly scrolled through social media and stumbled upon a post from Astrid Motley, the girl we’d taken in two years ago. She was showing off her birthday gifts, each one expensive and extravagant. But what caught my eye wasn’t the gifts — it was the stuffed bunny sitting on her nightstand — Zera’s favorite stuffed bunny.

I still remember giving it to her on her third birthday. She clung to that bunny every night to sleep. How did it end up in Astrid's room?

I immediately called my wife, Rhea Johnson, who was still back home, but she only complained that I was turning a molehill into a mountain.

"It’s just an old toy. Maybe Zera gave it to Astrid because she didn’t want it anymore," she said, brushing off my concerns.

But something didn’t sit right with me. The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt. So, I decided to dig into Astrid's spending records, and what I found left me stunned.

Worse than that, my wife knew about it. And she let it happen.

——

I had just closed a multi-million-dollar deal with an international client when I got Zera's message. Seeing her sad little face tugged at my heart. I wanted to tell her I’d be home soon and that we could go on vacation together. But after noticing those faint bruises, I hesitated.

I tried asking her about them gently, but her answers were scattered, and soon she stopped replying altogether.

Worried, I checked her social media for clues, but what I found instead was Astrid's latest post. There it was again — Zera's precious bunny, sitting on Astrid's bed.

That bunny meant everything to Zera. Once, when we went to her grandmother's house and forgot to bring it along, she cried all night and even spiked a fever so high that we almost lost her. After that, we never left home without it.

Recalling that, I called Rhea again, pressing her about the bunny. But again, she just brushed me off with the same reason.

"She’s thirteen now. It’s normal for kids to outgrow their toys," she snapped, her tone impatient. "Maybe she gave it to Astrid. Stop overthinking and focus on work." Right after saying that, she directly hung up on me.

Her reaction didn’t sit right. Rhea used to dote on Zera. When Zera was little, even the smallest scrape would send her into a panic, insisting we rush to the hospital. And she definitely wouldn’t have forgotten the fever incident. But lately, her care for our daughter lessened. Even when Zera accidentally cut her hand, Rhea would have just told her to clean it with disinfectant herself.

The unease gnawed at me. So, I handed off the rest of my project to a colleague and booked the next flight home.

While waiting at the airport, I checked Astrid's social media again. But this time, her posts were gone.

Then I remembered my old backup account. I logged in and checked again. Sure enough, the posts were still there — she'd blocked me.

Looking closer, I realized every single item in her photos was designer. A limited-edition Louis Vuitton bag. A necklace worth tens of thousands of dollars.

Astrid was only thirteen!