My wife buried my daughter alive. All because her “first love’s” son stabbed my daughter with a knife, and I slapped him in anger. To retaliate, my wife broke my daughter’s leg, threw her off the seventh floor, and then buried her alive in the backyard. When I confronted her in despair, she screamed hysterically, “He’s just a child! How could you be so cruel? Do you even realize you knocked out one of his teeth with that slap?” Later, after I found my daughter’s body, she cried and begged me not to divorce her. But I could never love her again. My daughter was killed by her own mother. She took her last breath inside a dark, suffocating box, alone. And I was miles away, on a business trip, completely unaware that the little girl I cherished more than anything in this world had already left me forever. Late that night, after finally wrapping up work, I picked up my phone to call her. But as soon as I unlocked my phone, I saw several missed calls from her. There were also multiple voice messages. My heart immediately sank. A wave of fear surged through me. I quickly called her back, but no one answered. I told myself not to overthink it, to stay calm. But when I opened her voice messages, her trembling, tear-filled voice pierced through the silence: “Daddy, why aren’t you back yet? Daddy, I don’t feel good. Please come save me.” “Daddy, I can’t breathe… Daddy…” “Daddy…” Her voice grew weaker with each message, and my chest felt like it was being crushed. I called my wife, Jessica, in a panic, but she kept rejecting my calls. Frustrated, I opened her social media account and saw her post: she was having dinner with her “first love.” Unbelievable. If Jessica hadn’t promised to take good care of my daughter, I would never have left her at home while I went on this business trip. Little did I know, leaving her behind was the worst decision I had ever made. The hour-and-a-half plane ride back felt like an eternity. I prayed desperately for time to move faster, terrified that every passing second might take my daughter further away from me. When I finally arrived home, I burst through the door, only to find Jessica tucking her “first love’s” son, Ethan, into bed. She looked startled when she saw me, her expression guilty and uneasy. “Why are you back so soon?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. Her demeanor sent a wave of panic through me. “Where’s my daughter? Where’s Lily?” I demanded. Jessica swallowed hard, her voice rising defensively. “She’s been asleep for hours. And honestly, Ethan is your stepson now, and I’m your wife. Why is that little brat the only person you ever care about?” I glared at her, my eyes burning red, and her insolent tone faltered. She immediately stopped talking. Frantically, I searched every room in the house, but Lily was nowhere to be found. Her desperate cries for help echoed in my mind, fueling my growing desperation. “Jessica, where is she? What did you do to her?” I shouted. At that moment, Ethan rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed, yawning. “Why are you making such a big deal about that brat?” he muttered. “Last time you slapped me, Jessica said she’d teach her a lesson to make me feel better. So this is all your fault.” His childish tone carried an innocent cruelty that made my blood boil. I turned to Jessica, disbelief and fury coursing through me. “All this because I slapped him? You used my daughter to ‘make him feel better’?” Jessica, realizing the truth was out, dropped her pretense. She crossed her arms and sneered. “Well, you shouldn’t have hit Ethan. He’s just a kid, and now he’s missing a tooth because of you.” “So yeah, I taught Lily a lesson. She’s my daughter; I can do whatever I want with her. And if you keep making a scene, you’ll never see that little brat again. I can’t believe she had the nerve to tattle on me to you.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Jessica was Lily’s mother, yet she was defending someone else’s son while treating her own daughter like trash. My vision turned red with rage. I grabbed Ethan by the collar and snatched a fruit knife from the coffee table, pressing it against his neck. “Tell me where Lily is,” I growled, “or I’ll make sure he’s buried next to her.” Jessica screamed in terror, begging me to put Ethan down. Finally, she broke under the pressure and pointed toward the backyard. “She wouldn’t stop crying, so I locked her in a box. Now put Ethan down, or I swear to God—” Her words blurred as I turned toward the window. The backyard was quiet, illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light. But there was no box in sight. Then my eyes landed on a freshly dug mound of dirt. A chilling realization gripped me. “You buried her alive in that box,” I said through clenched teeth. Jessica opened her mouth, but I didn’t wait for her response. There wasn’t time to waste. Saving Lily was all that mattered now.
When I clawed through the foul-smelling dirt with my bare hands, what came into view was a box, tightly locked. My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the latch, and when I finally managed to pry it open, my worst nightmare unfolded before me. My daughter—once so full of life—lay inside, her pupils dilated, her tiny face pale and bluish. I couldn’t believe it. Just days ago, she was fine, smiling, laughing. And now, she was gone. Carefully, I lifted her lifeless body from the box. Her once-bright face would never smile at me again. At the hospital, the doctor shook his head regretfully. “She passed away several hours ago. It seems an asthma attack was the cause.” I sat there, trembling, unable to process the words. Flashes of her face—a face so full of life—filled my mind. She was only five years old, taken from this world by the very person who should have loved her the most: her own mother. It was all because of Jessica. I called her over and over, my fury building with each rejection. Finally, after ignoring me for what felt like an eternity, she answered. Before I could say a word, her irritated voice snapped through the receiver. “Gavin, what the hell is wrong with you? Calling me nonstop—don’t you realize I’m busy calming Ethan down?” “It’s your fault he’s so upset. If he has nightmares tonight, I’ll make sure you pay for it.” Then the line went dead. I stared at the phone in silence, the dial tone echoing in my ears. At that moment, I realized the truth I’d been too afraid to admit until now: Jessica never loved our daughter. What kind of mother would call her own child a “brat”? Jessica, a doctor of all things, had betrayed everything her profession stood for. Knowing full well that Lily had asthma, she trapped her in a dark, airless box, leaving her to suffocate to death. Rage burned through me, threatening to consume me whole. Guilt and grief crushed me like a mountain, making it impossible to breathe. Memories of the day I left for my business trip replayed in my mind, sharp and vivid. Lily had grabbed my hand, her tiny fingers clutching mine tightly as she looked up at me with tear-filled eyes. “Daddy, do you really have to go? Can’t you take me with you?” She hugged her little stuffed bear, her innocent face full of hope. I’d crouched down to her level, holding her close, hesitating as her words gnawed at my heart. But Jessica had quickly swooped in, pulling Lily into her arms. “Lily, Mommy’s here to take care of you. Let Daddy focus on work so he can buy you all those pretty clothes and new toys, okay?” “Gavin, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her,” Jessica had reassured me with a smile. Despite an uneasy feeling deep in my gut, I left. I convinced myself it was safer for Lily to stay home with her mother than to travel with me. After all, Jessica was her mom. But now, staring at my daughter’s lifeless body, I realized just how wrong I had been. Jessica didn’t just fail to protect Lily—she sacrificed her. All because I slapped Ethan, the son of her first love. And why did I slap him? Because Ethan had stabbed Lily with a knife. Jessica didn’t care. She buried our daughter alive just to “defend” her ex’s precious son. I had been such a fool to believe her promises, to think she wanted to make things right. Sitting in the hospital waiting room, I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. I had failed my daughter. I had handed her over to Jessica. I had sent her to her death.
I sat in the hospital all night. It wasn’t until the sun rose the next morning that I finally moved, my body stiff and aching. My daughter was gone. The only thing left for me to do was give her a proper burial. But just as I was about to leave, the doctor called me back. In the waiting room, he held my daughter’s death report in one hand, hesitating as he glanced at me. “There’s something you should know about your daughter’s injuries,” he said cautiously. A heavy weight pressed against my chest. My voice came out hoarse and broken. “What do you mean? What injuries?” The doctor sighed, clearly troubled. “Your daughter didn’t just have knife wounds. Her body was covered in bruises, all caused by external force. And I suspect there may have been internal damage as well…” I didn’t hear the rest of what he said. The words knife wounds and bruises echoed in my mind, stabbing into me like daggers. In that moment, it felt like I’d fallen into a frozen abyss. How much pain had she endured before she died? A memory suddenly surfaced—before I left for my business trip, I had hidden a small camera inside her stuffed bear. I’d done it out of worry, wanting to keep an eye on her while I was away. That bear had been her favorite, the one she always hugged tightly to her chest. My hands trembled as I removed the memory card from the bear and inserted it into my laptop. At first, the footage was normal. My daughter was smiling, clutching her bear, and waving goodbye to me. But as soon as I left, Jessica’s entire demeanor shifted. Her face turned cold, and she shoved Lily to the floor without a second thought. Her sharp movements made it clear—this wasn’t the first time. I watched as my daughter, so small and obedient, picked herself up and quietly retreated to her room. My chest tightened, guilt tearing me apart. How could I have been so blind? How could I have left her in Jessica’s care, never realizing how cruel her own mother was behind my back? Suddenly, Lily’s cries pulled me out of my thoughts. “Mommy, I’m sorry! Please don’t hit me! I won’t say I’m hungry anymore!” “Shut up, you little brat!” Jessica snapped. “Cry again, and I’ll throw you out the window. Believe me, I will.” The next thing I heard was Lily’s muffled sobbing. Jessica wasn’t done. She grabbed Lily roughly by the arm, dragging her out of the room and shoving her into the car. Inside the car sat Jessica’s first love, Mark Hayes, and his son, Ethan. “Why did you bring that little nuisance along?” Mark complained. “You know her dad’s just going to lose it again. Last time he hit Ethan just because the kid scratched her with a knife. A knife! And all over one stupid tooth.” I clenched my fists as I watched, rage boiling inside me. Scratched her with a knife? Lily’s hand had needed stitches—several of them. Jessica smiled apologetically, trying to calm him down. “Don’t be mad, Mark. Gavin loves that little girl too much, so I thought I’d bring her along to help you blow off some steam. You can do whatever you want with her.” “I just didn’t want things to escalate between you two again. You know how impulsive that orphan is—he doesn’t think before he acts.” Mark laughed, satisfied. “Ah, you always know how to please me, Jess.” He pulled her closer by the waist. And then, as if their casual cruelty wasn’t enough, they came up with a plan to “teach Lily a lesson.” Their method? Tying a rope around her waist and dangling her off the seventh floor of the building. The camera shook as the footage captured the horrifying scene. Lily’s screams filled the air. “Daddy! Mommy! Help me!” But no one helped her. When they finally pulled her back up, she had fainted from terror. Ethan, however, wasn’t done. He grabbed her by the hair, climbed on top of her, and said in the most innocent tone imaginable, “Jessica, I saw on TV that people get buried alive sometimes. The sound they make is so funny. Can I bury her in the ground?” For a moment, Jessica hesitated. But then she smiled, indulgent and sweet. “Sure, honey. Go ahead.” How could she? I watched in horror as they stuffed my crying daughter into a box and carried her to the backyard. The sounds of laughter mixed with Lily’s desperate cries for help. The camera caught everything—her fear, her pain, her hopelessness. Tears streamed down my face as I stared at the screen, my body trembling. In her final moments, my daughter must have felt nothing but despair. She must have called me again and again, hoping I would save her. But I wasn’t there. I couldn’t save her.
When the video ended, my mind went completely blank. How naive I had been. I never imagined Jessica would go so far as to toss our daughter off the seventh floor just to please Mark Hayes. Such cruelty. Such inhumanity. How could people like them even dare to call themselves parents? Furious, I stormed back home. When I opened the door, I found the three of them—Jessica, Mark, and his son Ethan—standing in the kitchen, happily making dumplings together. They laughed at some joke, their heads leaning close to one another, the picture of a harmonious “family.” My daughter had died a horrific death, and yet Jessica had the audacity to stand here joking and laughing with another man. She didn’t even notice I’d come home. The rage inside me erupted. I marched over to Mark, grabbed his head, and slammed his face into a bowl of flour. Then I punched him square in the jaw. “Keep making your damn dumplings!” I shouted. Ethan saw his father being beaten and tried to intervene, but I slapped him so hard he stumbled backward. My bloodshot eyes burned with fury as I turned my fists on both father and son. Jessica stood frozen in shock. It took her a moment to react, and then she screamed, “Gavin, are you insane?! How dare you lay a hand on Mark!” But her voice was nothing more than noise to me at that point. Mark cried out in pain as I pummeled him relentlessly. His smug face swelled up like a pig’s head. Grabbing a handful of his hair, I slammed his head against the floor, over and over, until his body went limp. Just as I turned my attention to Ethan, Jessica grabbed a ceramic bowl and smashed it against the back of my head. The sharp, searing pain made me pause as blood trickled down my forehead. I blinked, slowly turning to look at her. I had almost forgotten—there was still one more guilty party in this house. A twisted smile spread across my face as something dark and primal awoke inside me. Jessica backed away in fear, but I lunged at her, pinning her to the floor. I slapped her hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room. “Lily was your daughter! Your own flesh and blood! Why did you do this to her? Why?!” I roared, my voice breaking with anguish. Even now, I couldn’t understand how Jessica could be so heartless, so monstrous toward her own child. Jessica sobbed and wailed beneath me. “I didn’t do anything! She wouldn’t listen, so I disciplined her. What’s wrong with that?” “She’s my daughter! I can do whatever I want with her!” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “She was your daughter, Jessica! How could you turn her into a punching bag for someone else? She was only five years old, and now she’s dead because of you!” “All because I slapped Ethan, you took your revenge on Lily? You let her die for that?” Jessica’s expression twisted into hysteria as she screamed back at me. “What else was I supposed to do?! Ethan is just a child! How could you be so cruel and knock out one of his teeth?” “And besides,” she continued, her tone turning venomous, “Mark said it was fine to lock Lily in the box for a few hours. But now look at you—storming in here like a lunatic and beating us up. When you end up in jail, just wait and see what I’ll do to that little brat of yours.” “She was just a lying little parasite! Always twisting the truth and tattling. So what if she’s dead? It’s not a big deal. Just bury her and be done with it!” Her words shattered whatever was left of my spirit. Even now, Jessica refused to acknowledge Lily’s death. She continued to defend Mark and his son, as if their lives were worth more than our daughter’s. In that moment, I realized everything—my trust, my love, my family—had been nothing more than a cruel joke. Lily and I had both been nothing more than pawns in their twisted little game.
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