Chapter 1

When my mom woke up, she had forgotten all about my dad's affair — forgotten the mistress with her swollen pregnant belly. Her memory had rolled back ten years, to the time when she and my dad were most in love.

The doctors said she couldn't handle the shock. So my dad and I were forced to play along.

During the day, my dad was the perfect, devoted husband. At night, he'd lock himself in the study and flirt with his mistress over video call.

I watched this absurd performance with cold eyes — watched my dad slowly tear himself apart between two women, sinking deeper and deeper.

He thought this was just a game he could walk away from whenever he wanted.

It wasn't until the day my mom died that he finally understood: her amnesia was a hell she had carefully built just for him.

I was standing at the luxury lingerie counter inside SKP, pinching a black lace thong between my fingers — barely enough fabric to cover anything.

The salesgirl smiled at me with practiced warmth, her voice dripping with professional flattery. "Madam, this is a limited-edition piece from the current season. Pure silk, with a cutout design. I'm sure your mother would look absolutely elegant in it. Mr. Vance would love it."

I curled the corner of my mouth into a cold smile, tossed the flimsy scrap of fabric onto the glass counter, and said, "It's not for my mom. It's for my dad's mistress. She's three months pregnant and she's into this kind of thing. Wrap it up."

The salesgirl's smile froze on her face like she'd just swallowed something dead. Her eyes went wide. She didn't know what to say.

I reached into my bag without any expression, pulled out the black card, and flicked it across the counter. One beep. Four thousand dollars.

This was my dad Richard Vance's "hush money."

Fifteen thousand dollars a month in allowance — in exchange for me playing the role of the perfect, obedient daughter in front of my mom Diane. Covering up the fact that he had women on the side, and was about to have an illegitimate child.

In this rotten family, love had long since been reduced to a transaction. I'd gotten used to the stench of it.

I picked up the elegant paper bag and walked out of the mall. The early winter wind cut across my face like a blade.

That's when my phone started going absolutely insane.

The screen read: City General Hospital.

"Is this Eleanor Vance? Your mother, Diane, has been in a serious car accident on the coastal highway. She's in emergency care right now. Please come immediately."

My mind went blank. The paper bag slipped from my fingers and hit the ground. The black lace lingerie spilled halfway out, fluttering in the cold wind — unbearably ironic.

By the time I got to the hospital, the smell of antiseptic in the hallway made my stomach turn. The red light above the emergency room blazed like it was bleeding.

I leaned against the cold wall and called Richard. Once, twice, over and over. No answer — straight to voicemail every time. I didn't need to think twice. He was probably in bed with his mistress Mia right now, phone switched off.

Two hours later, the red light finally went dark. The doctor came out, pulled down his mask, and his expression was hard to read. "She's stable. Her head took a severe impact — there was a blood clot. But the strange thing is…"

"What?" I grabbed his sleeve and held on tight.

"She's conscious, but her perception is severely distorted. The family should be prepared."

I pushed open the door to her room.

Diane was propped against white pillows, her head wrapped in thick bandages. She looked thinner — her cheeks hollow. But the eyes that had always been filled with bitterness and hysteria were now glowing with something I didn't recognize at all.

Something pure. Soft. Almost girlish in its hope.

"Ellen," she said when she saw me. Her voice was weak, but light. Her eyes lit up. "Where's your dad? Didn't he say he was going to get me that Bvlgari necklace today? It's our ten-year anniversary gift."

I stood frozen in the doorway like I'd been struck by lightning. My blood went cold.

Ten years?

This was my parents' twentieth wedding anniversary. Ten years ago, Richard's career was just getting off the ground — before his first affair, back when the two of them were still genuinely in love.

"Mom… you…" My throat tightened. I couldn't get the words out.

"Oh, what's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost." Diane pouted playfully. "Is your dad working late again? That man, he promised he'd come home early today." A faint blush rose on her pale cheeks.

Then the door to the room burst open.

Richard stood in the doorway, slightly out of breath. His suit was rumpled, his tie crooked. But the most glaring thing — the thing I couldn't look away from — was the fresh, vivid red lipstick mark on the collar of his white dress shirt. The air around him carried the faint, sickly-sweet smell of cheap perfume.

Diane's gaze moved past me and landed on him. Her face lit up with pure, overwhelming joy.

"Richard!" She reached out both arms toward him like a young wife waiting for her husband to come home — not even caring about the bandages on her head. "You're finally here! Where's my necklace?"

Richard stood frozen, staring blankly at his wife lying in the hospital bed. He instinctively reached up to touch his collar, and the color drained from his face — like he'd seen a ghost.