Chapter 3

At the outdoor conditioning area of the suburban park.

Brad was taking photos of Carter training to post on social media, captioning it: [Training with the absolute best little warrior!]

Just a few steps away, Mackenzie was doing shuttle runs all by herself under a large tree.

Right then, sharp screams erupted from the nearby picnic area.

A rabid, highly agitated Rottweiler was snarling and charging straight toward the area where the children were gathered.

"Vicious dog! Run!"

The scene descended into instant chaos as parents scrambled in all directions with their children.

"Carter!" Ashley shrieked from a distance, collapsing onto the ground in sheer terror.

The dog lunged forward with a low growl, bringing a foul, metallic stench in the air.

Mackenzie grabbed a tight fistful of Brad's coat, her little face pale with pure terror and desperation. "Dad, I'm scared."

Brad looked down and saw his daughter clutching him tightly.

However, hearing Ashley's frantic cries and seeing Carter weeping a few yards away, a violent conflict flashed through Brad's eyes, which quickly hardened into ruthless determination.

"Mackenzie, if you just stand still, it won't come over and bite you."

Brad pried open Mackenzie's fingers from his coat and sprinted in Carter's direction.

Under Mackenzie's disbelieving gaze, he scooped Carter up into his arms and dashed toward the distant security booth without ever looking back.

Mackenzie was knocked hard to the ground in the chaos, leaving raw, bloody scrapes across her palms and knees.

She could only watch helplessly as her own father fled while holding someone else's child, abandoning her completely alone.

"Mackenzie!"

I had just finished buying the juice my daughter wanted, and came back right in time to witness this scene.

My eyes nearly burst with rage. I sprinted over like crazy, throwing my own body in front of Mackenzie to shield her. I grabbed a heavy iron cooler off a nearby picnic table and slammed it down toward the dog with every ounce of strength in my body.

Fortunately, the park rangers arrived just in time, using catch poles to forcibly subdue the animal.

The crisis was neutralized, but Brad was already huddled safely inside the security booth with Carter, never once turning around to check on the daughter he had personally left behind.

In that moment, my heart turned completely to ash.

Mackenzie sobbed harder than she ever had in her life, and all I could do was hold her and comfort her repeatedly.

We didn't bother with Brad anymore and went straight back home.

After I cleaned and bandaged my daughter's wounds, she immediately headed toward her room.

She took down the 99th photo from her wall.

Brad's figure in that final picture was cleanly cut away, and Mackenzie tore it into tiny pieces.

The wall that was once packed with ninety-nine photos now held only incomplete pictures of just the two of us, mother and daughter.

"Mom, I don't want a dad like this anymore. He's not my dad at all." The tears on Mackenzie's face had dried, leaving a cold resolve in her eyes.

I squeezed her tightly into my arms through my tears, my heart aching for all the pain and betrayal my poor daughter had suffered—all brought upon her by her own father.

That night, while Brad was still at the hospital offering "grief counseling" to Ashley and her son, I packed up all of our luggage as fast as I could.

I placed the divorce agreement, which I had signed long ago, right in the center of the coffee table where it couldn't be missed.

I grabbed the suitcases, took Mackenzie by the hand, and walked out the front door with absolute finality.