Chapter 1

On the seventh day after my daughter's tragic death in a car accident, the killer was sitting in my husband's passenger seat.

My husband, a top-tier lawyer, was mounting her defense.

I scrambled for evidence outside the courtroom while he protected her inside.

Until I fell gravely ill and remained in a coma for half a year.

When I woke up, I stopped pursuing the truth. I stopped asking questions hysterically.

Because I had started to forget my daughter's voice.

The sound of her calling "Mommy" had become blurred in my memory. Even her face was beginning to fade.

And Ethan was still preparing late into the night for that killer.

That day, he couldn't find his case files and snapped at me impatiently, "Where's the folder I asked you to put away the night before last?"

I walked to the study doorway with empty eyes. "What?"

He sneered coldly. "Playing dumb? You're best at remembering these things, aren't you?"

I lowered my eyes and stayed silent for a long time.

"I was just thinking," I said softly, "what my daughter looked like. I can't quite remember anymore."

The air suddenly froze.

The documents in Ethan's hands scattered across the floor.

And I stood there, trying desperately to recall that little face that should have been carved into my bones.

But now, all that remained was a blurry glow.