Chapter 3

Lilian's posture was so guarded that it was like she had "We're hiding something" written all over her face.

I didn't insist. I just hugged the coat and said softly, "Thanks, Lilian."

Then I changed clothes, grabbed my bag, and told her, "Lilian, I'm heading to work. I won't be back for lunch."

She let out a sigh of relief and said again and again, "Okay, go on. Have a nice day."

I stepped out of the house, but I didn't head to work.

Instead, I tucked myself away in a secluded corner by the fire exit near the entrance.

From there, I had a clear view of the kitchen window at my place.

I began to wait.

Every second felt like forever, and my patience was running out.

Anger and disgust kept bubbling up in my gut, like acid threatening to spill over.

Manuel never left the country.

He was at home all along.

He and his precious mom had been making me and Luka dance like puppets, treating us like idiots.

I wondered why they did that.

I wanted to know why they would go this far.

And what the hell did "he'll be out in seven days" even mean?

At around 10:30 AM, I caught sight of Lilian in the kitchen.

She looked around outside, all cautious, and yanked the kitchen curtains shut.

My heart jumped into my throat.

A few minutes later, I saw her carrying a tray out of the kitchen, walking straight to the master bedroom.

I dashed upstairs and pressed my ear against the cold security door.

I heard the master bedroom door open, then the small padlock clicking open with a key.

Next came the faint creak of the closet door pulled open.

I couldn't hold back anymore. Quietly, I took out my spare key and turned the lock, opening the security door just a tiny bit.

Through that crack, I could see straight across the living room to the half-open door of the master bedroom.

With her back to me, Lilian leaned forward, furtively slipping the tray into the closet.

Right then, I saw it.

I watched as a hand reached out from the shadows inside the closet and took the tray.

It was a man's hand.

I knew that hand better than anyone else.

I instantly recognized the light brown mole on the back of his hand, right near his wrist.

It was Manuel's hand.

There was no blood, but the pain hit so hard that it made it hard to breathe.

I clamped my hand over my mouth, desperate to keep any sound from slipping out.

Tears burst out uncontrollably, scorching my skin.

I didn't rush in.

I knew that if I exposed them right away, it would only drag Luka and me into even worse danger.

I doubted that I could take on a greedy, selfish husband and a cruel, foolish mother-in-law.

In their carefully laid trap, I was caught off guard.

I slowly, carefully backed away and closed the door behind me.

Leaning against the cold wall, my whole body was trembling uncontrollably.

Anger, disgust, heartbreak, betrayal... all these emotions crashed together inside me, like they were ripping me apart from the inside out.

I kept telling myself to stay calm.

I pulled out my phone and started recording.

I pointed the camera right at the crack in the door.

Then I called Lilian.

The phone rang for a long time before she finally answered, sounding flustered and annoyed.

"Hello? What do you want? I'm busy!" she snapped.

I tried to sound as calm as possible. "Lilian, I forgot a file at home. It's in the study drawer. I'm coming back to grab it."

"No! Don't come back!" she practically shrieked. "I... I'm mopping right now.

"The place is a mess. Don't come back! Just tell me which file, and I'll find it and bring it to you!"

"No, Lilian, it's quicker if I just come back myself," I replied.

I hung up right after.

Inside, I heard frantic shuffling, and Lilian hissed a few hurried words toward the closet.

Then came the sound of the closet door snapping shut, followed by the padlock clicking into place.

A few seconds later, the door was flung open.

She stared at me, wide-eyed and visibly rattled, clutching a dripping wet mop.

"Why are you back so soon?" she demanded.

I ignored her and headed straight for the study, pretending to rummage around for a bit before grabbing a folder and walking out.

I didn't even glance her way the whole time.

My phone had already caught her entire guilty, panicked act on video.

This was the first piece of evidence I had.

I was finally using my head, taking matters into my own hands, and gathering evidence.

My heart, shattered by agony, slowly froze over, leaving nothing but a dead, icy void.