After concluding the parent-teacher conference for my two daughters, I received a call from my husband, Leonard Hill. His voice was curt yet persuasive.
“Pick them up from the villa immediately,” he instructed. “I don’t want us to be late for my celebration party.”
Rain hammered against the windshield as I navigated the stormy roads. My stomach growled in protest, hunger gnawing at me. Upon reaching the villa, I overheard Leonard and Beth Miller laughing by the door.
“I really envy Mrs. Hill,” Beth gushed. “Marrying a man like you, Mr. Hill—so successful and still attentive to the kids …”
Leonard chuckled softly, the corners of his thin lips curling upward in a practiced smile.
“What can I say? My wife was made to be spoiled. As long as she stays beautiful, I’ll keep working hard.”
The words stung, but there was no time to dwell. That evening, Leonard broached the topic of selling my house—the home I shared with our daughters—to fund his company’s IPO. My refusal was met with icy disdain.
“If you won’t help,” he sneered, “maybe it’s time the girls had a new mother.”
The weight of his words propelled me to action. I pulled open a drawer, retrieved the divorce papers I’d prepared in silent resolve and flung them into his lap.
“A man who parades himself as a loving father yet neglects his children has no right to that title,” I snapped.
Leonard’s mask of control faltered. “Divorce? Carrie, have you thought this through? Do the girls even know what you’re about to do?”
I didn’t answer. My eyes drifted to the rain-soaked night outside, its darkness mirroring the turmoil within.
Earlier, the rain had soaked through my clothes as I arrived at the villa. Inside, the warmth was suffocating, the air filled with clinking glasses and laughter. Leonard stood at the center of the grand lobby, surrounded by well-dressed guests raising their champagne flutes in his honor.
Amid the festivities, Grace, our eldest, tugged at Leonard’s sleeve. “Dad, don’t drink too much. We need to go to the family mausoleum tomorrow.”
The crowd fell silent, offering murmured apologies.
Beth turned to Leonard, her curiosity piqued.
“To honor the ancestors? Can daughters even enter the mausoleum?”
Grace tilted her head in confusion, her innocence making my heart ache. Leonard quickly silenced her with a reassuring pat on the head.
“Our family doesn’t cling to outdated ideas about boys being more important than girls,” he declared smoothly.
The memory of being left outside the mausoleum while Leonard performed these ceremonies alone resurfaced, bitter and sharp. His hypocrisy was suffocating.
Noticing me in the shadows, Leonard broke away from the crowd with his polished charm. “Everyone, enjoy yourselves. I’ll be back shortly.”
But he didn’t introduce me to his guests or acknowledge the hours I’d spent shivering in the rain. Instead, he gathered our daughters and ushered us toward the door.
Outside, the cold cut through me as Leonard thrust our youngest daughter into my arms and turned to Grace with a dismissive glare.
“Why are you so late? I’ve had to look after your children all day,” he complained, his polished suit belying his cruel demeanor.
“Leonard,” I began, my voice trembling, “why did you miss Grace’s parent-teacher meeting? You promised her.”
His brows furrowed in irritation. “I’m busy keeping this family afloat. Can’t you handle a simple meeting without dragging me into it?”
His disdainful gaze swept over my rain-slicked face. “And look at you—soaked and pathetic. Just leave. You’re embarrassing me.”
The door slammed behind him, leaving us to face the unrelenting rain. The biting wind wrapped around us like a merciless shroud.
“Mom, I’m so cold …” Grace whispered, her small body trembling as she clung to me.
I held my youngest close, her small form warm but oblivious in her slumber. Grace, my brave nine-year-old, shivered behind me, her tiny hands clutching my damp coat.
Leonard remained inside, cocooned in luxury, while his family endured the storm.
I knelt in the rain and looked into Grace’s tear-filled eyes. My voice was steady, though my heart broke.
“Grace, do you still want this man to be your father?”
