A week later, he came back. With gifts. With a fake expression of regret. With forced grief in his voice. I listened in silence. I smiled. And I said everything was fine. That I understood.

Then…

I pulled the documents off the shelf — chat logs, tickets, receipts, and the camera footage of him tenderly kissing his “important meeting” by the pool.

“This is your alibi, right?” I said calmly. “Well, this is your end.”

I had already filed for divorce. I had already contacted the press — he’s a well-known businessman. His company is now at the center of a scandal. Every investor knows exactly where he was while his daughter was being buried. Public opinion is merciless.

I sold everything that belonged to him. Everything he once called “ours” — is no longer his.

And I handed over all the proof of his affairs to the court. The custody of our younger son will be settled quickly.

He will lose everything. Just as I lost my daughter.

My daughter deserved love. Not a father like him. It’s all my fault.