Chapter 2
Richard froze for a beat, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
"Really, Helen? You're so starved for attention you'd cook up a lie that sick?" he mocked.
He marched into the snow, ignoring Lily entirely, and clamped a hand onto my shoulder.
"Dead? Give me a break. She's probably playing possum to get back at me. Quit the act and get her on her feet!" he snapped.
But the instant his fingers brushed Lily's skin, he recoiled like he'd touched a live wire.
The cold coming off her was deep and hollow—the kind of chill that only comes when the soul has left.
Richard's face twitched, a flicker of panic surfacing before he doubled down on his arrogance.
"She's just got a chill, that's all. Get her inside and crank the heat! Christ, you're ruining the whole Valentine's vibe with this psycho routine," he said, trying to keep his voice calm.
Richard sneered as he slapped the frost off his leather gloves, then turned his back on us.
"I'm not setting foot back in that house," I said, my voice as hard as the ice under my boots.
I pulled Lily tighter against my heart and stumbled toward the car parked in the driveway.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Richard yelled over his shoulder.
"The hospital," I threw back, my tone flat and dead.
"You're delusional! You'll never get the car through this whiteout! Get back in here right now!" Richard roared.
I tuned him out, laid Lily across the back seat, and stripped off my parka to wrap her as tightly as I could.
The car fishtailed and skidded across the black ice, narrowly missing the guardrail three times, but I felt nothing—no pulse of fear. I kept the pedal floored, driving like I was already a ghost myself.
We finally skidded into the ER ambulance bay.
A trauma team swarmed the car, lifting her onto a gurney and disappearing behind double doors.
Thirty minutes later, the attending physician pulled off his mask, his expression heavy with defeat.
"She was gone before she arrived," the doctor said. "Severe hypothermia triggered cardiac arrest, and the febrile seizures were just too much for her system... I am so incredibly sorry for your loss."
I couldn't even manage a sob; I was a hollowed-out shell, too numb for the mercy of tears.
I stared into space as I pulled out my phone and dialed Richard's number.
It rang until the very last second before he finally deigned to answer.
The background was a chaotic wall of cheering crowds and the thunderous boom of fireworks.
"Now what?" Richard asked, his voice light and full of forced cheer.
"The doctor just called it," I said, my voice eerily flat. "Come say goodbye to your daughter."
The line went quiet for a heartbeat before Richard exploded in a fit of rage.
He roared, "Helen! God, give it a rest! Max was a nervous wreck after your meltdown, so I took him to the pier to watch the fireworks show to calm his nerves!
"Stop being such a drama queen. This is just a pathetic play to get me to come pick you up, isn't it? Just call an Uber and get your ass home!"
Click.
The line went dead.
A photo on the lock screen showed Lily beaming, perched high on Richard's shoulders during better days.
The memory of his supposed love for her felt like a cruel prank from a past life.
When did it all go downhill?
The rot set in the moment Vanessa rolled back into town with that secret kid of hers.
A solemn nod to the doctor served as the only thanks I could muster through the grief.
"I need the death certificate. Make sure the cause of death is detailed—don't leave anything out," I said evenly.
The night passed in the sterile silence of the morgue as I kept a solitary vigil over my daughter.
I carefully sponged her skin and tucked her into her favorite shimmering Elsa gown.
Gravity began to take hold of her small frame, and the first signs of lividity bloomed like dark bruises across her skin.
I pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles, my voice a jagged promise in the dark.
"Don't be scared, baby. Mommy's right her," I whispered. "I'm going to make them pay for what they did. Every single one of them."
The crematorium van arrived at daybreak to collect the small casket.
There were no pews filled with mourners, no flowers, and no eulogies.
I stood alone in the biting wind, clutching the small ceramic urn against my heart while the snow began to fall again.
Richard texted me: [Knock off the temper tantrum. Bring Lily home. Vanessa made pancakes and she's waiting for you to pull a chair up.]
A cold, jagged smile twisted my face as I stared at the screen.
Home?
I was going back, alright.
The curtains couldn't close on this sick little family performance until I took my final bow.