Chapter 1

For three years after the divorce, my ex-husband never once came to see our daughter.

But after he remarried, out of the blue, he sent us a rag doll.

The doll was filthy, almost black with grime, and it reeked of something foul, like it had been fished out of a dumpster.

I cursed him for being so heartless and tossed the doll into a corner without a second thought.

In the middle of the night, my daughter Lily shook me awake, sobbing. "Mom, the doll is talking," she whimpered.

Without thinking, I grabbed a pair of scissors and sliced the doll open. The moment I saw what was inside, I called the police without a second thought.

*****

For three years after the divorce, Michael Carter never once came to see Lily.

His phone number was no longer in service.

I thought we'd never have anything to do with each other again for the rest of our lives.

That was until news of his remarriage flooded everyone's feeds across the city.

In the photos, he was dressed in a sharp suit, standing next to a young woman with a radiant smile.

My mom pointed at the photo on her phone, shaking with anger.

"That heartless bastard! If it weren't for our family back then, he wouldn't be where he is today," she fumed.

I calmly took the phone from her hand and pressed the lock button.

I said, "Mom, he's just someone who has nothing to do with us anymore. Don't make yourself upset over him."

She snapped back, "Nothing to do with us? He's still Lily's dad!"

I stayed silent after that.

Honestly, a man who never acted like a father didn't even deserve to be called "dad."

I thought this whole thing would be like tossing a stone into a lake—after the ripples faded, everything would just settle down and fade away.

But three days later, I got a package in the mail.

There was no sender's name, just a blurry address. I realized it was Michael's wife's place.

The package was addressed to Lily.

My heart skipped a beat.

As I peeled back layer after layer of wrapping, a wave of mixed mildew and dust washed over me.

Inside was a rag doll.

It was beat-up and grimy.

Its body was stitched from rough burlap, smeared with dark gray smudges. One of its button eyes was missing, leaving a black hole where the button used to be.

The other eye was a black glass bead, fixed on me with a cold, dead stare.

The doll's mouth was stitched with red thread, forming a creepy, sinister grin.

This was no gift.

It was obviously a curse dragged out of some dumpster.

Michael.

I whispered his name to myself, rage threatening to consume me from the inside out.

Not only did he never care about Lily, but now he was using this to humiliate both of us.

Was he flaunting his new life, rubbing it in our faces, and making fun of how miserable we were?

I snatched up the filthy doll, about to toss it right into the trash.

"Mom, what is that?" Lily called out from behind me.

Lily's voice rang out, clear and bright, from behind me.

I was startled, instinctively hiding the doll behind my back.

"It's nothing, just a package that got sent to the wrong address," I replied.

"Let me see, Mom!" Lily pleaded.

Lily darted over and easily snatched the doll from behind my back.

When Lily saw the doll, I thought she'd burst into tears out of fright.

But she didn't.

She just looked at the old, beat-up doll with her big, curious eyes.

Then she reached out her little hand and gently touched the doll's hollow eye.

"Poor thing," Lily said.

Lily tilted her head up at me, her eyes brimming with pity.

"Mom, can we give it a home?" she asked.

My heart stung.

How could I tell her that this "poor" doll was sent with malice by the man she called her father?

I took a deep breath and crouched down to her level.

"Lily, this doll is really dirty. It's covered in germs and could make you sick," I said.

"We can give it a bath!" Lily replied.

She hugged the doll tightly, as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

"It lost an eye. That must really hurt," Lily said.

My throat felt tight.

Michael, did you see this?

This was the daughter you never cherished—she was pure as an angel.

And you? You were a monster, through and through.

Lily's persistence wore me down in the end—I just couldn't resist her.

I cleaned the doll inside and out with disinfectant, again and again, then dried it with a hair dryer before reluctantly giving it back to her.

That night, Lily slept soundly, clutching the doll in her arms.

But I lay awake all night.

I stared at the doll's shadow in the corner, twisted and stretched by the nightlight—like it was mocking me in silence.

I made up my mind: as soon as Lily left for kindergarten tomorrow, I'd finally get rid of that thing.

But the next morning, no matter where I looked, the doll was nowhere to be found.

I tore the whole house apart searching for it.

In the end, I spotted it tucked inside Lily's tiny backpack.

Lily had wrapped it in a clean handkerchief, with just that black glass eye staring out.

I tried to take it out.

But Lily, like a little cub protecting her treasure, snatched the backpack away, eyeing me warily.

"Mom, don't throw it away.

"He's my new daddy," Lily said.

My mind buzzed; everything just went blank.

New daddy? Where did she get that from?

"Lily, who told you that?" I asked.

"The doll said so itself," Lily replied.

She clutched her backpack tightly, looking up at me with a completely serious face.

"It told me it's my daddy, and it'll stay with me forever," Lily insisted.