Chapter 3: Ultimatums and Ugly Truths

Sure enough, the next day, her brother called me over.

I hadn’t planned to go, but this needed to be settled. I couldn’t let them plot behind my back anymore.

I brought my daughter with me. I wanted her safe, where I could see her. Maybe—just maybe—I could show her I’d fight for her, no matter what.

As soon as I walked in, Miranda’s voice was already echoing through the apartment, shrill and dramatic. She was putting on a show, and she didn’t care who was watching.

Her acting was terrible. Anyone with half a brain could see through it, but she played her part for the crowd anyway. I almost rolled my eyes.

She perched on the balcony railing, having poured half a bottle of water on her skirt, sobbing for the crowd below:

“Evan drove us to our deaths!”

But her foundation was flawless, and she’d even found time to touch up her coral lipstick. The whole scene was staged, right down to the tears that never quite reached her eyes. It was all for show.

Still, it scared Autumn. She buried her face in my shoulder, her little body trembling. I hugged her tighter, wishing I could shield her from all of this.

“Is Mommy really going to jump?”

She curled against my chest, soaking my shirt with tears. I stroked her hair, whispering that I’d never let anything happen to her. The words sounded empty, even to me.

“Last time she said she’d take me flying, she almost threw me off the balcony...”

A chill shot through me. My breath caught. I remembered the night Miranda stormed onto the balcony, Autumn in her arms, threatening to “teach her a lesson.” I’d thought it was just a scare tactic—now I wasn’t so sure.

When Autumn was diagnosed with leukemia in my last life, Miranda grumbled impatiently:

“Why bother treating her? A bone marrow transplant costs fifty grand. That money would be better spent on my brother’s new store!”

So even before that, she’d already thought about staging an “accident” for my daughter. The realization made me sick to my stomach.

Autumn clung to my shoulder, purple-red bruises peeking out from her sleeve. I brushed her hair aside, my heart pounding.

I pulled up her sleeve and stopped breathing. The marks were unmistakable.

The bruises lined up, neat as if measured. The freshest one was split and still seeping. I bit back a curse, doing my best not to scare her more.

“Mommy said she’d teach me to count...”

Autumn counted on her fingers.

“One pinch, one number. Yesterday she pinched me thirty times.”

I shook with rage, but then heard the sudden scrape of metal from the balcony. My vision blurred with anger, but I forced myself to stay steady. Autumn needed me calm.

Miranda rattled the railing, her hair wild, a calculating glint in her eyes:

“Evan! If you don’t transfer the money today, I’ll take Autumn and jump! Isn’t she your precious girl?”

The crowd gasped, but I spotted her sister-in-law behind the curtains, adjusting her phone for a better shot. I caught the red recording dot—so that was the plan. Make me the villain online.

She used to tell me her parents died young, and she and her brother grew up relying on each other. She was the older sister, like a second mother—of course she should help him. But she never acted like a mother to Autumn.

But now, she was using our daughter to threaten me for her brother’s sake. That betrayal burned hotter than anything else.

I pushed open the sliding door and sneered:

“Is that so? Then go ahead and jump.”

Miranda was stunned—she hadn’t expected that. For a split second, her face twisted, all her bravado draining away. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

We were still husband and wife, after all. I took a breath, steadying myself:

“I’m not giving you a cent. Give it up.”

“Don’t you know what kind of person your brother is? Wake up. You treat him like family, but does he treat you the same? To him, you’re just an ATM.”

“Autumn and I are your real family.”

For a moment, panic flashed in her eyes, but it was gone in a heartbeat—replaced by anger:

“Now you’re using our daughter against me? You’re heartless!”

“Heartless? I’m nothing compared to you people.”

I sneered. The pain inside me was something no one else could understand. I’d been the fool for too long. Not anymore.

In my last life, I cared too much about so-called family ties, and let my daughter suffer for it. Never again.

Not this time.

Seeing she was getting nowhere, Tyler piped up, looking smug:

“Evan, if you don’t give me the money, I’ll have my sister divorce you.”

Miranda’s face lit up, like she’d finally found my weak spot. She straightened up, lips curling into a smirk.

She said triumphantly:

“Yeah, if you don’t pay, we’ll get divorced.”

“Let’s see how you manage with no wife—and your kid without a mom.”

Yeah, I’d loved her once. Built my life around her. But I was done being the sucker.

But the lessons from my last life were burned into me. I’d paid in blood, sweat, and tears.

“If that’s how it is, then let’s get divorced.”

With that, I flicked off the mini camera clipped to my shirt. The little red light winked out. The evidence was safe. I’d planned ahead this time.

I picked up my daughter and walked out. Autumn clung to me, face buried in my shoulder. With every step away from them, I felt lighter.

I had all the proof I needed. Their threats couldn’t touch us now.

There’s no reasoning with someone obsessed with her brother. The only way out was to cut ties. I finally had the guts to do it.

When we got home, I held my daughter as she asked:

“Daddy, is Mommy really not coming back?”

That hit hard. She was just a little kid, barely old enough to tie her shoes, and already she was asking about being abandoned. It broke my heart.

She was still so little, at the age when she needed her mother the most. I wanted to promise her everything, but all I could offer was honesty.

Feeling guilty, I asked:

“Autumn, do you want Mommy?”

But her answer caught me off guard:

“I don’t like Mommy. She’s never home. She only likes her brother!”

Even a kid could feel it. Kids know—they sense every slight, every cold shoulder.

I should’ve seen it sooner. The drawings, the way she hesitated before calling for her mom. I just didn’t want to believe it.

No wonder whenever Autumn drew a “family portrait,” her mother was always missing. It was right there in crayon and marker, and I missed it.

But why couldn’t Miranda see it?

No, she knew. She just saw her brother as her only real family. I’d been chasing a ghost, trying to fix something that was never mine to fix.

To her, Autumn and I were outsiders. Disposable. I wouldn’t let that poison touch us again.

Looking at my sleeping daughter, I remembered how pale she’d looked in her hospital bed in my last life. The memory haunted me—a warning I’d never forget.