On the Day Our Daughter Died, My Wife Went to See Her Lover

When I arrived at the hospital, Emma was wheeled out of the operating room like a rag doll.

I stood there, helpless, and approached her, choking back tears as I said, "Emma, don't be afraid. Daddy's here."

Emma stared blankly at the ceiling, not responding to my words.

A police officer pulled me aside with a serious expression and said, "The child was attacked by several homeless men while trying to resist during a robbery. When we arrived, she had lost a lot of blood..."

I stepped back, covering my mouth in shock, my heart feeling like it was being sliced open with a knife.

The officer quietly advised me, "Since we found her, she hasn't spoken. You should try to comfort her; once she's feeling better, we can take her statement."

After the officer left, I stood at the door of Emma's room, unsure how to face her.

I opened my mouth to cry silently, pounding my chest with my fists in deep self-reproach.

Damn those international meetings and damn making money; if I hadn't been preoccupied with those things, Emma wouldn't have suffered tonight.

Perhaps hearing me hit myself, Emma called out from her room, "Daddy..."

I quickly wiped away my tears and took a deep breath before stepping inside.

Emma's face was as pale as paper. She lifted her hand and pointed at my phone. "Why didn't Mommy come to pick me up?"

My face stiffened; I didn't know how to answer that question.

Ever since Ethan and his son returned, Sophie had focused entirely on them, neglecting her own daughter Emma.

Once during a severe flu season, Emma had a high fever for several days without Sophie even asking about her; instead, Sophie spent days and nights with Max Hunter.

"She told me yesterday that today is Max's birthday. Did she go celebrate with him?" Emma asked softly.

I held her cold little hand and reassured her, "Emma, it's Daddy's fault. If Daddy hadn't gone to that meeting to pick you up..."

Emma looked at me with red-rimmed eyes and asked, "Daddy, am I really Mommy's biological child? Ever since Max came back, Mommy only cares about him and doesn't ask about me..."

Emma felt that Sophie loved Max so much that it must be because she wasn't good enough herself. That's why she worked so hard in school every day, hoping Sophie would pay attention to her again.

This was the first time she had asked me such a question; disappointment in Sophie was written all over her face. My heart twisted painfully.

"What are you talking about? Why should it matter if I care for Max a bit more? His mother is abroad; shouldn't I take care of him? Why are you jealous?" Sophie shouted as she walked through the door.

I glanced at my phone; it was 1:30 AM—three hours since I had called her.

Ethan followed closely behind Sophie, carrying her handbag in one hand and a cake box in the other.

Emma looked at Sophie in disbelief and trembled as she said, "Mommy, do you know what happened to me tonight? If you had come to pick me up..."

Sophie scanned Emma from head to toe without concern and replied nonchalantly, "You look fine; what could have possibly happened?"

I immediately stepped up to Sophie and slapped her hard across the face.

"Smack!"

Ethan dropped the bags he was holding and reached out toward me. "How could you hit a woman?"

I kicked him out the door with a swift side kick.

Turning back to Emma, I soothed her gently. "You rest for now; Daddy will come back to see you later."

With that, I pushed the stunned Sophie out of the room.