Chapter 3

Inside the luxury van heading to the gala venue, the air was split in two—a suffocating tension on my end, and unbridled excitement on theirs.

Lily kept her head down, texting furiously with a giddy smirk plastered across her face, her fingers flying across the glowing screen.

Mark sat beside her, glancing over with a look of pure paternal doting and indulgence.

"Eleanor, make sure you greet the board members from Washington High at the entrance tonight,"

Mark spoke up out of nowhere, his tone as casual as if he were giving orders to a hired housekeeper.

"And double-check the charity auction schedule. Lily's fundraising numbers are crucial for her Ivy League application."

Sitting in the passenger seat, I watched their reflections in the rear-view mirror.

In the past, I would have smiled and nodded eagerly, handling every tedious detail in advance—heck, I would have even spent my own money buying up useless auction items just to boost Lily's numbers.

But now, my throat felt like it was stuffed with ice-soaked cotton. Heavy, cold, and speechless.

"Got it,"

I murmured quietly, turning my face toward the window to watch the city lights blur past.

Inside the brightly lit grand ballroom, I glided among the guests as usual, holding a champagne flute and offering polite smiles to everyone I met.

Yet my eyes could never quite stray far from Lily and Mark.

I watched Lily give a flawless, charming speech on stage, hearing her thank her high school and shower praises on her wonderful father.

Meanwhile down offstage, Mark's phone screen lit up multiple times.

I caught an accidental glimpse of a photo sent from an unsaved contact.

The picture showed an exquisite designer evening gown, accompanied by a caption: Mark, this dress is gorgeous. I'm thinking of wearing it to Lily's coming-of-age ceremony in three months. What do you think?

Mark's thumb hovered over the screen for a long while before typing back a short message: Stunning. Lily and I will pick you up at the airport.

Right then, amidst the deafening applause filling the room, an icy chill ran straight through me.

Chloe wasn't physically present at the party tonight, yet her ghost had already infiltrated every single corner of our home.

Inside the cozy sanctuary built entirely on my fortune and sweat, father and daughter were secretly nurturing their private little garden reserved strictly for the three of them. I was always the foolish intruder.

After the event ended, I didn't throw a fit, nor did I go crazy going through Mark's phone.

Over the next three months, I forced myself to stay dead silent, observing the home I had lived in for twelve years with a chilling, surgical detachment.

I began noticing countless red flags I had turned a blind eye to in the past.

Like how Lily spent tens of thousands every month on my secondary card buying high-end designer bags and couture clothes way beyond her age group—items she never wore, which magically vanished from her closet days later.

Like how Mark constantly used "business trips" and "client dinners" as excuses to work late, while his credit card statements listed romantic, candle-lit fine dining spots.

Heck, right before Lily's graduation art showcase, I stumbled upon a card tucked inside her sketchbook.

It was a drawing of three figures, labeled with their names and a handwritten caption underneath: Daddy, Mommy, and me. We are the real family.

Not me.

Those three months dragged on like pure agony.

Every time I tried to make excuses for them, reality smacked me across the face with brutal clarity.

From initial shock, indignation, and sobbing quietly at night, my heart slowly hardened into numb ice.

I knew that my twelve years of effort were like building sandcastles on the beach—the moment the tide rolled in, nothing would remain.

During those hundred days of slow torment, I completely cut off my emotional investment in Lily.

I stopped checking Mark's schedules and stopped thoughtfully brewing hot soup whenever he worked late.

I quietly reclaimed full financial control over my studio and set up strict legal shields around my pre-marital inheritances and real estate assets.

I was waiting.

Waiting for the perfect opportunity to draw a clean, final curtain on this twelve-year ridiculous farce.

Finally, early summer arrived.

On the eve of Lily's high school graduation, she handed me a gilded invitation card, that sweet smile still plastered on her face.

"Eleanor, next Friday is my 18th coming-of-age ceremony dinner. It's the most important day of my life, so you definitely can't miss it!"

Looking at the scheming expectation flashing in her eyes, my heart remained dead silent.

I took the card, feeling its cold metallic texture beneath my fingers, and smiled smoothly: "Don't worry, I wouldn't miss it for the world."