Chapter 1

When the car pulled into the rest stop, I thought Ethan was just going to buy a pack of cigarettes.

I never expected him to yank open the back door and scoop up our daughter.

I tried to stop him. "Emma's asleep. Don't wake her."

Then Rachel got in the car holding her daughter, flashing me a smile.

"Sophia, would you mind? I'm sitting in the middle."

I froze. "What are you doing?"

Ethan returned to the driver's seat and started the car.

"Emma has asthma. Can't let her infect Rachel's kid. They can't sit together."

"So what?" I asked.

"So Emma goes in the trunk."

I thought I'd misheard. "Ethan, you want my daughter in the trunk?"

He didn't turn around. "Just half an hour. She won't die."

Rachel's daughter clapped and laughed. "Dirty girl goes in the trunk!"

I reached for the door handle. It was locked.

1

"Ethan! Open the door!"

He looked at me through the rearview mirror, his eyes cold as ice.

"Either sit there quietly, or get out with her."

The car merged onto the highway.

I pounded on the window like a madwoman.

"Ethan! Open the door! Let me out!"

He ignored me. The car went faster and faster.

In the back seat, Rachel held her daughter Vivian, leisurely fixing her hair.

"Sophia, don't blame Ethan. Emma was coughing so badly just now. What if she infects Vivian? Vivian's delicate, you know that."

"She's three years old! And she has asthma. You're making her stay alone in the trunk?"

"What's wrong with the trunk?" Rachel smiled. "It's not like she hasn't been in there before. Last time you worked late, didn't Emma sleep in the trunk all afternoon? Ethan said it was training for her."

My whole body trembled. That was when Ethan took our daughter out, said they were going to the playground.

When I asked why Emma was asleep when they got back, he said she'd tired herself out playing.

Now I knew—she'd passed out from being stuffed in the trunk.

"Ethan, stop the car!"

He finally spoke, his voice frigid.

"Emma's spoiled because of you. Rachel's right. Kids can't be too soft. Half an hour in the trunk won't kill her."

"She has asthma! Have you forgotten she nearly died last time she had an attack?"

"But she didn't die, did she?" Ethan lit a cigarette. "Stop making a big deal out of nothing."

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The sound came from the trunk.

It was Emma knocking.

"Mommy!" Her voice was muffled. "Mommy, I can't breathe!"

I turned, trying to reach the trunk partition, but Rachel blocked me.

"Sophia, sit still. Don't move around." She held down my hand.

"Rachel! Move!"

"No." She lowered her voice. "Sophia, want to know why I got in this car? I want to watch your daughter suffocate."

I frantically pulled at the door handle. Locked. I tried to break the window. It wouldn't break.

"Ethan! Emma can't breathe! Stop the car!"

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, eyes ice cold.

"Twenty more minutes and we'll be there. Stop yelling."

"She won't last twenty minutes!"

"How could she not last twenty minutes?" His tone was flat. "She's usually so healthy."

Rachel's daughter Vivian shouted toward the trunk. "Dirty girl! Are you dying yet? When you die, Daddy will only love me!"

My blood ran cold.

Thump.

One last sound from the trunk. Then silence.

"Emma?" I called out. "Emma, answer Mommy!"

No response.

2

I started shaking, my voice trembling.

"Ethan, Emma's not making any sound."

"She's faking it." He sounded unconcerned.

"Stop the car! Please stop the car!"

I knelt on the seat, grabbing his shoulder.

He jerked the steering wheel. The car swerved across the highway.

"Are you fucking crazy!" he roared. "You want to die?"

"Stop the car! Please! I'll agree to anything! Divorce! I won't take the house! I won't take anything! Just stop and save her!"

Rachel said lightly beside him. "Sophia, why bother? Just wait twenty more minutes and you'll naturally get out."

"Ethan!" My voice was already hoarse.

He suddenly laughed.

"Sophia, if you slap yourself three times right now, I'll consider stopping."

I froze for a second, then immediately started slapping myself.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

"Please."

The car was silent for three seconds.

Ethan sneered. "You actually slapped yourself? How pathetic."

He pressed the gas pedal. The car went even faster.

"I was messing with you. You're like a dog."

Rachel laughed out loud.

I collapsed on the back seat. Blood trickled from my forehead, dripping onto my hands.

My phone suddenly vibrated. A message from Ethan's mother in the family group chat.

A photo.

The table was covered with dishes. The caption read: "Waiting for my son to bring Rachel home for dinner! So nice without those unlucky people around."

Those unlucky people. She meant Emma and me.

I gripped my phone, nails digging into my palm.

The car finally exited the highway and pulled into a rest area.

He stopped. Opened the trunk.

I rushed out. Emma was curled up in the corner, her face purple, lips white.

"Emma!" I held her. Her small body was ice cold and unresponsive.

"Emma, wake up! Look at Mommy!"

Rachel led Vivian over and glanced down.

"Oh my, she doesn't look good." She turned to Ethan. "Ethan, should we take her to a hospital?"

Ethan leaned against the car and lit another cigarette.

"Hospital for what? She'll be fine after sleeping at home."

I held Emma, shaking all over.

"Ethan, she's your daughter."

"I know." He exhaled smoke. "So I call the shots. I say we go home, we go home."

He turned and got in the car. Rachel followed with Vivian.

The instant the car door closed, I heard Vivian say, "Mommy, is that dirty girl dead?"

Rachel laughed. "Better if she is. Then Daddy will be all yours."

The car started. I stood in the rest area holding Emma, watching it drive farther and farther away.

Then it stopped.

I thought he'd had a change of heart.

The window rolled down. Ethan stuck his head out.

"Sophia, Vivian doesn't want to ride in the same car as you two."

"Figure out your own way home!"

The window rolled up. The car started again.

I stood in the wind, holding my daughter, looking at her purple little face.

3

I stood in the wind at the rest area, holding Emma.

I called Ethan's secretary, Mrs. Wang.

It rang three times. She answered.

"Mrs. Wang, please, come pick me up. I'm at Bluestone Rest Area. Emma's sick. We need to get to a hospital!"

"Oh, Sophia." Mrs. Wang's voice was lazy. "Can't do it now. I'm tied up."

"Please! Emma can't breathe. Her face is purple!"

"Then call 911." Her tone was flat. "I really can't leave right now."

"Mrs. Wang! I'm begging you! Just—"

The call ended.

I dialed Ethan's number.

He hung up immediately.

I couldn't make a sound. Emma's little hand hung against my chest, ice cold.

I dialed 91