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Joke? God, how I prayed the tragedy was just a cruel joke. Only if my daughter was safe at home, waiting for me with her bright smile...
"You've lived comfortably all these years. Do you know who earn it for you? It's me!"
His breath hitched audibly, "You'd better think about pleasing me, Sophie!"
Before I could speak, a nurse came close and extended a clipboard to me,
"You are the mother of the deceased girl, are you? Sign here, please."
Daniel's scoff crackled through the phone.
"Sophie, are you even dragging a nurse into this charade to trick me back?"
I gave the nurse a tight nod and signed the paper with my fingers slightly trembling.
I ignored Daniel's sneering voice and hung up.
What a heartless bastard!
Hours later, when I was taking rest at home, the front door creaked open.
"I'm back. What now, huh? What do you want?"
Daniel sprawled on the sofa. His head was propped lazily on his hand.
My eyes were raw, swollen from two days of silent weeping. A fragile thread of resolve -- my daughter deserved peace -- was the only thing holding me upright.
"We need a divorce."
His head snapped up, "What?"
"This..." I gestured vaguely at the opulent room, the cold emptiness, "This isn't a family. I want a divorce."
He stared at me and barked a harsh, mocking laugh,
"How about our daughter? Have you persuaded her to also fight against me? Make her run off with Mommy?"
He put himself upright, "It won't work! Everything here is mine. You can only walk away with nothing."
A wave of crushing weariness washed over me.
"I don't want anything here. Keep it all as you wish."
I pulled the folded papers from my worn handbag, setting them carefully on the glass table.
He stiffened in disbelief, "Is... is this real?"
It couldn't be faker than your grief, I thought bitterly.
"Be at the courthouse at 9 AM tomorrow." my voice was flat, "Just... do this one last thing for us."
"ENOUGH!"
He surged off the sofa, tearing his tie loose in one furious motion.
Before I could react, his hand clamped around my throat, slamming me against the cold wall.
"Do you think you can push me like this?" his voice was low and dangerous, "My patience is gone."
The image of our daughter's body on the floor -- lifeless, still -- collided with his cruel dismissal in my mind. Agony burned through my chest.
"Go ahead," I rasped. A bitter smile touched my lips as I went limp, "Strangle me. I've got nothing left to lose."
"Sophie, you're insane!" he shouted, recoiling like he'd touched fire.
Fear flashed in his eyes before anger drowned it,
"Christ! Are you seriously this jealous of another woman? I thought you were the rational one..."
"SHUT UP!"
Days of grief and rage exploded. My palm cracked across his face with all my strength.
"You are still thinking about her!" My voice tore raw from my throat, "While your daughter is DEAD! She's GONE, Daniel! DEAD!"
My scream ripped through the penthouse, "You are absolute SCUM!"
He went utterly still. Then, without a word, he strode towards my daughter's room. He emerged moments later, wearing a mask of cold disdain.
"Great. You even fake her death to get back at me." His lip curled, "From now on, stay away from my daughter! Don't ever see her again!"
He slammed the door behind him with enough force to rattle frames on the walls.
I didn't t know how long I sat on the floor with my breaths ragged. Finally, moving like a ghost, I began gathering my daughter's things. The familiar scent clinging to her blanket nearly undid me.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed violently on the table. It was a staff from the cemetery calling.
"Mrs. Morgan?" A panicked voice yelled over chaotic background noise, "You need to come NOW! A lunatic's digging up your daughter's grave, cursing and swinging a shovel. We can't stop him. Please, hurry!"
