Just because I refused to give my husband’s childhood sweetheart my emergency parking spot, she ended up dying in an accident.
On the surface, my husband Ethan Miller didn’t blame me. But when our daughter Lily went away to summer camp, he handed her over to kidnappers.
When I learned the truth, tears streamed down my face. I wanted to beg Ethan to save her, only to find his phone turned off.
I went alone to rescue Lily, but instead I suffered inhuman torture and nearly lost my life.
Ethan’s childhood sweetheart, Sarah White, had kidney failure and needed regular dialysis. She asked me several times to give her my emergency parking spot.
But Sarah’s apartment complex had plenty of parking spaces in its underground lot. Renting one only cost a little over a hundred dollars a month, yet she was too stingy to pay for it. Her place was barely a mile from the hospital—just a short drive around the block.
Why did she have to fixate on mine?
“Your home is so close to the hospital. Why insist on my spot? This spot is reserved by the hospital for attending physicians. I can’t lend or transfer it, otherwise I’ll be fired for breaking hospital policy.”
Sarah cursed under her breath, then went to complain to Ethan:
“Ethan, I’m practically dying, and all I asked was for Emily’s parking spot. It’s not like I wanted it for free. Once I make money, I’ll pay her back. How can she be like this?”
Ethan brought it up to me many times, but I never agreed.
The day Sarah died, I was shocked. I never expected that someone so regular with her dialysis treatments would suddenly pass away.
Her doctor told me, “Sarah wasn’t following her diet. She overate and drank. Dialysis should have been three times a week, but lately she only came once. That alone wouldn’t have killed her. But this time, she got drunk, missed her treatment, and died of poisoning at home.”
I relayed this to Ethan to clear myself of responsibility.
And indeed, I wasn’t responsible.
Ethan seemed to forgive me.
“You’re right, Emily. It wasn’t your responsibility. That spot was never Sarah’s. She was careless. Don’t blame yourself.”
He hugged me. I thought he truly forgave me. I had been so worried, but he seemed calm. That night, I even felt grateful to have such a composed husband.
When summer came, Lily, who was eight years old, needed to go to camp. Ethan didn’t bother with it, so I drove her there myself.
But on my way back, I got a call from kidnappers:
“Your daughter is with us. If you know what’s good for you, come get her. Otherwise, she’ll die young.”
“Mommy, save me! I don’t want this, I’m so scared!”
Her voice broke my heart. I wasn’t even home yet and frantically tried calling Ethan, but his phone was off. I even called his mother repeatedly, but no one answered. I had no choice but to go rescue Lily myself.
When I saw the gang leader and his men, I froze. Over a dozen men surrounded Lily, who was crying her heart out, tears streaming like a waterfall.
“Mommy, you finally came! I was so scared.”
“Let her go, or I’ll call the police!”
I threatened them, but they didn’t move.
“Lady, turn around.”
I looked back to see the path I came from blocked, the underground garage doors locked, people closing in. We were trapped.
“Lily!! Are you okay?”
Suddenly Lily broke free and ran into my arms. I held her tightly.
“It’s okay now, Lily. Mommy’s here.”
The men laughed. “No, lady. It won’t be okay. Since you came, things just got worse.”
