After my daughter died, my husband went crazy
Chapter 1
My daughter, Lily, was five. She splashed some water on Vivian, my husband, Jason’s childhood sweetheart, and Jason tossed her into the pool.
I watched my daughter struggle, gasping for air. “Lily can’t swim!” I screamed, falling to my knees. “She’ll be traumatized! She’s your daughter!”
Jason didn’t flinch. “It’s your fault for spoiling her,” he sneered. “You’re a terrible mother. Don’t interfere with my parenting!”
Lily was submerged for what felt like an eternity. Hours later, she was still unconscious, her lungs filling with water. While I paced the ER, heart pounding, Vivian was flaunting a new necklace on social media.
When my father finally arrived, I collapsed at his feet, sobbing. “I’ve paid my debt to the Fu family,” I choked out. “Please, let me and Lily go…”
1
My five-year-old lay on the emergency room table, her little face a horrifying shade of purple. Her breathing was so shallow I could barely see her chest rise and fall. Even in her unconscious state, she mumbled, “Mommy… so cold…”
I couldn’t hold back any longer. I knelt on the cold ER floor, my grief a raw, agonizing scream.
Three hours earlier, Lily had been playing by our pool, accidentally splashing Vivian’s dress. Vivian had punished her by holding her underwater. When I finally got there, Lily was already choking on water.
My phone buzzed. A text from Jason: “Working late, got a business dinner.”
I stared at the screen, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. Tears streamed down my face, blurring the words.
I opened my Facebook. Vivian’s latest post, ten minutes prior, was geotagged at a swanky hotel. A picture of two hands clasped together, the caption reading, “Long-awaited alone time.”
While I was agonizing in the ER, they were… together. To rub it in, she’d even sent me a private video—a passionate kiss. It was the height of arrogance.
Normally, I would’ve confronted Jason with the video. But now, I was bone-tired. Utterly spent.
My dad tried to comfort me. “Nanu, Jason’s not a bad kid, just… impetuous. I’ll talk to him.” He added, “Don’t you worry, in my eyes, you’re the only Fu family daughter-in-law.”
I shook my head, a wry smile twisting my lips. Before I could speak, the ER doors opened. The doctor emerged, removing his mask.
“Ms. Gibson,” he said, “we did everything we could.”
In the morgue, I stroked my daughter’s cold cheek. I couldn’t hold it together. I fainted.
When I awoke, my dad was there, his face etched with sorrow.
I sat up, my voice eerily calm. “Grandpa, let me go.”
He frowned. “Don’t talk nonsense. I’ll deal with that good-for-nothing Jason. You…”
I showed him the video. Jason and Vivian entwined on a hotel bed, the timestamp matching the time Lily was fighting for her life.
My dad’s face went white. His cane clattered to the floor. He finally spoke, his voice low. “Let’s take care of the funeral first. We’ll deal with the rest later.”
2
He wouldn’t let me go. My dad arranged the funeral, the details a blur of exhaustion. By the time I got back to the mansion, it was late.
Moans and the sound of hushed passion emanated from the master bedroom. Vivian’s exaggerated sighs felt like salt poured into my raw wounds.
I went straight to the bathroom. The hot water washed over me, but the hospital smell clung to me, refusing to be erased. Lily’s last look, her tiny hand reaching for me… it wouldn’t leave my mind.
When I emerged, my tears were dried up.
“Where the hell were you? Why didn’t you tell me you took that little brat to the hospital?” Jason’s voice cut through the quiet.
I turned, seeing him through the steamy bathroom mirror. His shirt was open, a lipstick stain on his neck. His face was a mask of annoyance.
“Vivian’s designer dress was ruined by your daughter, do you know how much that costs? It’s all your fault for spoiling her. Take her to apologize to Vivian tomorrow.”
The last thread of my endurance snapped. I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.
“She’s not a ‘brat,’ and she shouldn’t have been punished that way.”
Jason scoffed. “It was just a few minutes in the water. You’re being dramatic. Vivian was trying to teach her to swim—”
“She’s dead,” I interrupted, cold and sharp. Each word felt like a knife to my throat. “Lily is dead. Pulmonary edema, organ failure. We tried for five hours.”
His face shifted from shock to anger. “What are you talking about? Now you’re saying she’s dead to avoid making her apologize? You’re evil!”
He slammed the door, leaving me drowning in despair. In his eyes, I was the guilty one. Whether my daughter lived or died, he clearly didn’t care.
The room fell silent. I surveyed the wreckage – clothes scattered on the sofa, spilled wine on the coffee table, the cloying scent of Vivian’s perfume.
Then I heard Jason’s words again: “Vivian’s designer dress… apologize tomorrow.”
I laughed, tears streaming down my face. My daughter was dead, and he was worried about Vivian’s dress.
3
I sank onto the sofa, remembering the day I found out I was pregnant. Jason had been ecstatic, lifting me into the air, his joy overflowing.
“Lana, we’re having a baby! I’m going to be a father!”
He’d decorated the nursery himself, bought a mountain of parenting books, even canceled all his appointments, spending every night talking to the baby in my belly. His eyes had held a light then.
I’d believed our child would be the happiest in the world.
But when I was in labor, screaming in pain, Jason was absent. The nurses called him repeatedly, finally telling me he’d said he was busy and to “just… do your best.”
Later, I found out Vivian had just returned from abroad. He’d spent the entire day at Disneyland with her. My Facebook feed showed a picture of him and Vivian at Disneyland, caption: “Welcome back, my princess.”
When I confronted him, he’d been dismissive. “Having a baby is a woman’s job. Vivian just came back, I had to celebrate. Just be sensible and stop being so dramatic.”
After that, Vivian’s presence became increasingly brazen. She’d “accidentally” sit on Jason’s lap at family gatherings, feeding him fruit with a giggle. She’d show off his jewelry, saying, “Don’t mind me, sister. Jason just spoils me rotten.”
Jason just watched, sometimes muttering, “Lana, be more mature.”
Eventually, I stopped fighting. I poured all my love into Lily.
And now, even she was gone.
4
The next morning, I went to the funeral home.
I stood before Lily’s portrait. She smiled so sweetly, as if she were just asleep. But I knew she wouldn’t wake up.
My dad stood beside me, his face grim, his phone ringing endlessly. He finally exploded, his cane slamming against the floor.
“Where is Jason?!”
His assistant nervously handed him a tablet. “We found him… He checked into the Honeymoon Suite Hotel last night.”
The screen showed Jason and Vivian, arm in arm, already kissing in the hotel corridor.
My dad was furious, but I just gave a numb smile. He hadn’t even come to see his daughter one last time.
Then, the doors swung open. Jason, in a black suit, appeared with Vivian, stunning in a crimson dress—a shocking contrast to the somber setting.
Vivian whispered to Jason, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Honey, this funeral is so depressing. Let’s go try on wedding dresses later?”
Jason chuckled, nuzzling her cheek. “Whatever you want.”
My nails dug into my palms, but I felt no pain.
My dad was beside himself, slapping Jason. “You monster! This is your daughter’s funeral!”
Jason just wiped his bleeding lip. “Grandpa, are you senile? Lana’s faking the funeral to get attention, don’t you see?”
I looked at him, stunned. He thought Lily’s death was a charade?
My voice trembled. “Jason, you can humiliate me however you want, but today… this is Lily’s funeral!”
He laughed. He took Vivian’s hand, loudly announcing, “Vivian’s pregnant. This is the child I’ve always wanted.”
Vivian patted her flat stomach, taunting me. “Don’t be sad, sis. Kids die. Just have another one.”
I shook with rage. Guests whispered, some shook their heads, some laughed, others recorded the scene.
The funeral home erupted in chaos. Lily’s picture was knocked over, the flowers crushed. My dad, seething, raised his cane again.
Jason grabbed it, coldly stating, “Grandpa, don’t be fooled by Lana. She’s a master manipulator.”
He dragged Vivian away, leaving the devastated funeral home behind. Vivian’s heel knocked over the incense burner, ashes scattering everywhere.
The service ended, I stood alone amid the wreckage. Lily’s photo was cracked. I wiped the dust from the glass, whispering, “Lily, Mommy’s taking you home.”
Back at the mansion, I packed my bags, gathering Lily’s toys, clothes, drawings. Finally, I signed the divorce papers. Jason and I were done.
Before leaving, I glanced back at the house. The pool water was still and calm, as if it had never swallowed a child’s life.
I closed the door and walked away, carrying Lily’s ashes.
“Lily,” I whispered, “we’re free.”
5
A glittering gala, champagne flowing.
“Mr. Fu, congratulations! Heard Ms. Lee is expecting?” A businessman toasted Jason.
Jason smiled, his fingers caressing Vivian’s waist. Vivian blushed, touching her flat stomach, a flicker of panic in her eyes.
Then, Mr. Shen, CEO of Shen Corp., approached, holding a glass of champagne. Jason frowned at his business rival; Shen had used underhanded tactics to sabotage a deal with him, costing him millions.
Shen’s gaze was cold, his smile predatory.
“I hear you were trying on wedding dresses while your daughter was being buried, Mr. Fu?”
Jason’s face darkened. “Mr. Shen, spreading rumors has consequences.”
Shen chuckled. He gestured, and the large screen in the ballroom lit up—the ER security footage, playing until the death certificate appeared.
Name: Lily Fu. Cause of death: Acute respiratory failure due to drowning. The time of death matched the day Jason “punished” his daughter. The last few seconds of a missed call showed my voice, crying out, followed by Jason’s callous response: “If you want to die, die somewhere else.”
Jason stumbled back, knocking over a champagne tower. He rushed to the screen, his voice hoarse.
“This… this isn’t possible!”
