From the Ashes of His Betrayal

Daisy POV When Ethan finally came home, I was sitting on the couch with a blank expression. "Babe, I'm back." He offered a tender smile, holding up a fancy fruit bowl. "The company handed out corporate gifts today. High-end fruit platters. I brought some back just for you." I looked down at the bowl. The melon was cut into uneven, jagged chunks. Several strawberries were mushy and bruised. This wasn't freshly prepared from a store. These were picked-over leftovers. A bitter sting hit my nose. He never used to be like this. When I was pregnant and vomiting constantly, Ethan would drive across town at three in the morning just to buy me freshly squeezed juice. When my feet swelled so badly I couldn't fit into shoes, he would kneel on the floor and massage them for thirty minutes straight. He never missed a single prenatal visit. Once, when the doctor mentioned the baby's position seemed slightly off, his eyes welled up with tears on the spot. Back then, I truly believed I had married the right man. Even with stretch marks covering my stomach, even when severe hemorrhaging almost kept me from leaving the operating table alive, I still thought I was the luckiest woman in the world. Yet now, looking at this man's face, he felt like a complete stranger. "Honey," I said, my voice eerily calm, "someone posted my private videos online." Ethan’s face tightened for a fraction of a second, but he masked it instantly. A look of fake fury washed over him. "What videos? Who posted them?!" "From the bedroom camera. The one you set up two weeks ago." Ethan's voice jumped an octave. "You mean the feed got hacked? Don't panic, baby. I promise I’ll handle this!" "I already contacted cybercrime," I said flatly. Ethan parted his lips, stunned, before pulling me into his arms. "Good. That's good. Don't be scared, I'm here." I closed my eyes, my heart grinding against a dull, jagged blade. I knew I couldn't blow my cover yet. I needed hard evidence before filing for divorce. After collecting myself, I got up and headed toward his mother Karen's room to check on my baby. I pushed the door open. The little girl was lying in her crib, fast asleep. I walked over, but no matter how I nudged her, she wouldn't wake up. Her tiny face flushed with an unnatural, feverish red. Her breathing was shallow, painfully slow. My stomach dropped. "Karen! What’s wrong with her? Why won't she wake up?!" Karen was watching TV, not even bothering to look my way. "She wouldn't stop screaming this afternoon. Gave me a massive headache, so I rubbed some whiskey on her gums and gave her a sip. Put her right to sleep." The final string of my sanity snapped. I practically screamed, "You gave a newborn whiskey?! She isn't even a month old!" Karen waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, relax. That's how we raised kids back in the day. A little booze helps them sleep soundly." I couldn't listen to another word. I scooped my daughter into my arms. "Ethan! Your mother poisoned our baby with whiskey! Get the car, now! We're going to the ER!" Ethan’s face drained of color. He grabbed the car keys and bolted downstairs. The engine roared to life. In the back, I held my baby tight, trembling uncontrollably. She was still deep in an unnatural stupor. Her tiny lips were turning faintly blue, her breaths growing weaker by the second. Ethan slammed on the gas, blowing past two red lights. Just as the car hit full speed, his phone rang. The car's Bluetooth picked up automatically, and a woman's breathless, frantic sobs flooded the speakers: "Ethan, help me! I'm so scared!" The line went dead with a click. Ethan froze, his hands instinctively wrenching the steering wheel. The car made a violent, screeching U-turn. I slammed hard against the car door, looking up in sheer disbelief. "What the hell are you doing?! Why are you turning around?!" "I have to go check on her," Ethan choked out, flooring the pedal. "Ethan! Your daughter has alcohol poisoning! She needs emergency care right now!" "Something happened over there too!" he roared back. Every drop of blood in my body ran cold. Fighting back the tears, I wrenched the door handle open. Ethan slammed on the brakes. I jumped out into the pouring rain, clutching my baby. Ethan stuck his head out the window, looking like he wanted to say something, but his phone buzzed again. He glanced at the caller ID, stepped on the gas, and vanished into the night. I stood there on the asphalt, heavy rain lashing down on me, pelting my baby's burning face. I looked down. Her lips had turned fully gray-blue. I tried waving down cars, but it was past midnight in the middle of a torrential downpour. One cab after another sped by, completely ignoring my frantic waves. Desperate, I ran forward, slipping on the slick pavement and crashing violently onto the asphalt. My vision went pitch-black for a second. Rainwater and tears blurred my face, but I kept my arms locked tightly around my child, shielding her from the impact. Thank God, a kind stranger spotted us and rushed us to the nearest children's hospital. My baby was immediately wheeled into the trauma room. I stood frozen in the hallway, staring dead-eyed at the glowing red sign. I had no idea how much time passed before the doors swung open. The attending physician stepped out, his expression heavy and grim. "She has acute liver failure. We need to take her into surgery immediately." My knees gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor.

Daisy POV The surgery light burned red. I slumped in a chair, cold to my very marrow. Rushed footsteps echoed from the end of the hall. I looked up to see Karen jogging toward me. "Daisy! What did you do to my granddaughter?!" Karen stormed over, her finger inches from my nose. "How old is she?! You're letting doctors cut her open? Are you out of your damn mind?!" My voice was dry and hoarse. "You gave her whiskey... her liver is failing..." "You lying bitch! A tiny sip of alcohol never killed anyone! You're just doing this to spite me, blowing things out of proportion to extort money from my family!" I shook violently, trying to stand, but my legs had zero strength left. "I am not doing this with you," I said faintly. "Wait until the surgery is over." "She was perfectly fine until you dragged her onto an operating table! How dare you talk back to me?!" Karen's screeching grew louder, drawing stares from passing nurses. Bystanders started murmuring, tossing suspicious glances my way. Just then, Ethan came sprinting down the corridor. Seeing him, my eyes instantly burned with tears, but I bit down hard to keep them from falling. "What are you doing here?" I grated out. "Didn't someone need you?" Ethan flinched, looking deeply uneasy. "My coworker had an emergency. A rat got into her apartment and terrified her..." A bitter, broken laugh escaped my throat. His daughter was dying of acute liver failure, and he had turned the car around to comfort his mistress over a rat. Taking a deep breath, I turned my eyes toward Karen. "From this day on, you are never coming near my child again." Karen froze for a beat, then exploded in pure rage. "You ungrateful slut! I break my back helping you raise that kid, and this is how you repay me?!" She worked herself into such a frenzy that she flopped onto the floor, slapping her thighs and wailing at the top of her lungs: "Look at this woman! She abused my granddaughter and now she won't even let me see her! She’s trying to steal our family’s heir!" More and more people gathered in the hallway. Some even pulled out their phones to record. Watching Karen roll on the floor like a lunatic made my stomach twist with disgust. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. "Hello, I need to report—" A hand shot out and ripped the phone from my grip. Ethan hissed under his breath, "Are you crazy?! That's my mother!" "She poured whiskey down your daughter's throat! She almost murdered her!" My voice broke, trembling with fury. "She meant well! She just wanted the baby to sleep soundly. That’s how old folks raised kids back then!" "And what about you?" I locked my eyes onto his. "Did you ever give a damn about me or our child?" Ethan's face changed dramatically. His lips parted, but no words came out. "Are you going to handle this, or am I calling the police?" I demanded coldly. He went quiet for a few seconds before saying, "I'm taking Mom home first. She's too old to handle this kind of stress." I closed my eyes. A sharp, suffocating pain tore through my chest. Hours bled together until the operating room doors finally parted. The surgeon walked out and slowly pulled down his mask. "I am so sorry. We did everything we could." "The alcohol poisoning was too severe, and she was brought in too late. Her liver completely shut down, leading to multi-organ failure on the table..." The doctor kept talking, but the sounds stopped reaching my brain. I saw a nurse wheeling out a small gurney covered in a white sheet. Underneath was a tiny, motionless bundle. My baby. The child I had carried for nine months, the one I had nearly died on the table to bring into this world. I reached out to lift the sheet, but my hands shook so violently it took three tries just to pull it back. I collapsed over her tiny body, tears falling like heavy lead onto her skin. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, baby... Mommy failed to protect you..." My choked sobs were the only sound left in the empty hallway until my voice went completely hoarse and my tears dried up. Then, my phone rang. My best friend Chloe's voice came through the speaker, sharp and panicked: "Daisy, why the hell are you trending?! Someone just posted on a massive gossip forum claiming you abused your baby and drank her to death! The comments are tearing you apart! They leaked your photos and home address!"

Daisy POV Numbly, I clicked the link Chloe sent. The headline was plastered in bold red text: [Postpartum Depressed Mother Gets Drunk and Forces Liquor Down Newborn's Throat—Baby Dies of Alcohol Poisoning!] The poster claimed I was a chronic alcoholic who had lost my mind after giving birth, deliberately pouring whiskey down my daughter's throat. Every single word was a disgusting lie. Yet my photos, my real name, and my phone number were all laid bare for the internet to see. The comment section was a bubbling cesspool of hate: [How does a monster like this get to be a mother? Go die.] [That poor baby, being born to a psycho.] [Lock her up and throw away the key.] My phone began ringing off the hook with unknown numbers. I swiped to answer one, and a stranger screamed into the receiver, "You murderer! Why don't you just kill yourself?!" I hung up. It rang again. Hang up, ring again. Vicious text messages flooded my inbox like a swarm of locusts: [I hope your womb rots and you never have another kid.] [Aren't you scared your baby's ghost will drag you to hell tonight?] [Die, die, die.] The strength completely drained from my body, cold sweat soaking my back. People walked past me in the hospital corridor, a few stopping to point and whisper. "Is that her? The one online who fed her kid alcohol..." "My God, she looks totally normal. How could someone do that?" "Terrifying." The monstrous lies crushed down on me like an iron mountain. But I didn't defend myself. I just held the cooling body of my daughter tighter. Eventually, I handed her body over to the nurses and walked up to the hospital roof alone. The wind was violent, whipping against my face as I stood at the edge, looking down. If I jump, I thought, I won't have to face my baby's corpse anymore. If I jump, I won't have to hear those cruel voices tearing me apart. I took a step forward. But as the freezing wind poured down my collar, my daughter's tiny face flashed in my mind. Her gummy, toothless smile, beaming up at me with pure love. A violent shiver racked my frame. If I jumped, who would avenge her? The monsters who killed her would walk free, living their pathetic lives without paying a single dime of their debt. I sank to my knees on the rooftop, weeping silently into the bitter cold. A while later, I walked downstairs and caught a cab back home. I needed to retrieve the hidden camera first. I needed that footage as hard evidence. But when I reached the lobby of our building, Ethan's mistress was already standing there. Evelyn was dressed in a pristine white dress, her long hair draped over her shoulders, waiting for me. "Daisy, I saw what happened online," Evelyn said with a delicate, rehearsed smile. "Don't beat yourself up too much. People on the internet forget things in a few days." I stopped dead in my tracks. "What are you trying to say?" "Your reputation right now is a complete disaster for Ethan's career. If you truly love him, shouldn't you do the right thing and just leave?" Looking at her innocent, angelic act, I almost laughed out loud. "Evelyn, in what capacity are you telling me to leave? As his girlfriend? Or as his cheap side-chick?" Evelyn's smile faltered for a second, and she dropped the sweet facade. "When you were pregnant, you did nothing but cry and throw tantrums. He was miserable living with you, which is why he came to me. You pushed him away yourself." "Did he happen to mention that his entire paycheck gets direct-deposited into my account every single month? Did he tell you the house is exclusively under my name? Do you know why he hasn't dared to bring up divorce once?" Evelyn's lips twitched. "Because he can't afford to leave me. If we divorce, he walks away with nothing. Are you willing to support a broke man?" I stared her down. Her eyes reddened, the venom in her gaze impossible to hide. I stepped closer. "You don't love him. You love the title of 'Professor Ethan.' If he were just some regular lab tech, would you have ever spread your legs for him?" "Shut your mouth!" Evelyn shrieked, losing all composure. "You bitter bitch, you deserved to have your baby die!" My hands balled into tight fists, a blinding rage searing through my veins. I raised my arm and slapped her across the face with everything I had. Her head snapped to the side. "Bring up my daughter again, and I swear to God I will end you." Evelyn clutched her cheek, tears spilling instantly. Right then, Ethan's car pulled into the driveway. Seeing the scene, he bolted over. "Daisy! Why the hell are you hitting people?!" He glared at me, noticing the harsh red handprint on Evelyn's face. "I know you're hurting right now, but who does making a scene help? Can you think about my reputation for once in your life?!" I scoffed. "She thinks she has the right to walk up and provoke me?" Ethan glanced at Evelyn, whose eyes were brimming with delicate tears. "I was just worried about Ethan's job... I didn't mean anything else..." she whimpered. Ethan waved it off, annoyed. "Evelyn is just a colleague. She came out of genuine concern. You had no right to lay hands on her. You've been completely unstable lately, Daisy. You need to see a psychiatrist." I parted my lips, but the air felt trapped in my throat. "Fine. Let's go inside and talk," Ethan said, reaching out to grab my wrist. I took a sharp step back, dodging his touch. His hand hung awkwardly in midair, his expression darkening completely. He scowled. "How long are you going to keep throwing these childish tantrums?" I looked at him, my gaze heavy with fifteen years of crushed illusions. "Ethan, I'm done. I want a divorce."

Daisy POV I turned and walked upstairs. Seconds later, Ethan followed me inside. The air in the living room felt so heavy it was ready to freeze solid. "What did you just say?" he asked, shutting the door. My voice was flat. "I'm exhausted. I'm not wasting another second of my life on you." Ethan stared at me, then let out a patronizing chuckle, like he was listening to a toddler throwing a fit. "You just had a baby. Your hormones are all over the place, so I won't hold it against you. But don't throw around the word 'divorce' so carelessly." I looked up into his eyes. "Ethan, I know you're cheating on me." His smug smile instantly died. Before he could stammer out an excuse, I cut him off. "I went to that apartment complex. I know exactly what you two were doing behind that door." His face twisted through several colors before he softened his tone, putting on an understanding front: "Daisy, have you ever stopped to look at yourself? After you got pregnant, your temper was unbearable. I worked insane hours at the lab, and coming home meant dealing with your constant mood swings. The pressure was suffocating. Not to mention, for almost an entire year, I couldn't even touch you. I'm a healthy man with basic physical needs! Getting some relief on the side is completely normal, but I was always going to come back home to you." "So cheating is my fault?" I asked, my face blank. "I'm not saying you're entirely at fault," Ethan reasoned smoothly, shaking his head. "A marriage breaks down because of both parties. You can't just pin all the blame on me." I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, there was nothing left inside me but absolute resolve. "We are getting divorced. And you're walking away with nothing." Ethan's mask cracked completely. "Daisy, don't push your luck." I let out a cold, sharp laugh. "You didn't think you were pushing your luck when you cheated? You didn't think you were pushing your luck when you uploaded footage of me to a paywalled site for sick freaks to gawk at?" His pupils shrank into pinpricks. I didn't give him a chance to spin it. "You bought the camera. You uploaded the files. You think deleting the logs wipes your tracks from me? Ethan, you're going to prison." His face drained completely white. Karen, who had been eavesdropping from the hall, suddenly barged in, pointing a crooked finger right in my face: "You dare bring up divorce?! My son works hard to support your lazy ass, and now you want to dump him?! Fine! Pay back every single dime he spent on you! Fifty grand, not a penny less!" Staring at her twisted, greedy face, a wave of pure nausea hit me. "Your son is an adulterer, and you want to talk about money?" "So what if my son stepped out?! It just means you couldn't keep your man satisfied! You're a useless woman, who else are you going to blame?!" I shook from head to toe. In that exact moment, the brutal truth finally hit me: they had never seen me as human. I was an incubator. A live-in maid. An appliance to be discarded whenever they saw fit. I pulled out my phone to dial the police, but Ethan lunged, ripping the device from my grasp with enough force to snap my fingernail clean off. Pain blinded me for a second, and before I could recover, Ethan shoved me hard into the bedroom. "Ethan! This is false imprisonment!" I screamed, pounding against the wood. "I'm your husband, and it's my job to protect you! You're having a manic episode, and I can't let you run out and do something reckless!" I slammed my fists against the door until my knuckles bruised red, but nobody answered. Outside the window, dusk turned to pitch-black. I don't know how long I sat there before a sharp, acrid smell filled the room. Thick, suffocating smoke. I shot to my feet. "Ethan! The house is on fire!" I threw myself against the door, screaming until my vocal cords shredded, but silence met my cries. The smoke thickened rapidly, sending me into a violent fit of coughing. Suddenly, the door clicked open. Standing in the doorway through the haze of smoke wasn't Ethan. It was Evelyn. She stood amidst the curling fumes, a lighter gripped in her hand, a twisted smirk playing on her lips. "Daisy, do you like my little housewarming gift?" My breath hitched. "Are you insane?! This is an entire apartment building!" Evelyn's eyes turned dead and vicious. "Once you burn to ashes, your life, your house, and your husband will all belong to me!" She slammed the door shut and locked it from the outside before running off. Ethan was nowhere to be found. Karen was gone. I curled into a ball by the window, desperately gasping for whatever clean air was left. Just as my vision began to fade, the door was violently kicked off its hinges. My best friend Chloe, completely drenched and wrapped in a soaking wet blanket, burst through the flames and grabbed my arm. "With me, now!" We stumbled and coughed our way through the raging fire, breaking out into the cool night air. Downstairs, a black SUV was idling by the curb. Chloe shoved me into the back seat, jumped behind the wheel, and slammed the gas. "The visa you asked me to expedite just cleared! We’re catching a red-eye flight tonight!" I stared blankly out the rear window as Ethan's burning house faded into the dark.

Daisy POV The plane touched down at San Francisco International Airport. During the entire flight, I hadn't slept a wink. My tears had dried, fallen, and dried again. Chloe pulled me into a soft hug. "Hang in there, Daisy. Tianchen has everything lined up. You can finalize your onboarding this afternoon." I took a deep breath, determined to bury the bleeding hole in my chest under mountains of work. Yet, when Chloe and I arrived at the North American tech headquarters, the receptionist gave me a bizarre, guarded look. "Ms. Daisy Vance, please wait here." A senior director, Robert, strode over with a grim look on his face, holding a smartphone out toward me. Ethan was sitting on a plush couch, looking haggard, his eyes rimmed with red. He was livestreaming on TikTok. "My wife has been suffering from severe postpartum depression. She's been emotionally volatile ever since the pregnancy. I did everything in my power to care for her and guide her, but after our sweet baby passed away, she completely snapped." He lowered his head, pressing his thumb into the corner of his eye to wipe away a tear. "She set fire to our home and vanished. But I don't blame her. I know her heart hurts even more than mine. I just want to say one thing to her: Daisy, please come home. I’ll keep waiting for you. No matter what happened, I will never give up on you." The comment section was flying at lightning speed: [Ethan is such an incredible, devoted husband. Where do you even find a man like this?!] [Daisy is a literal psycho! She killed her own baby and then burned down the house?!] [My heart breaks for him. Imagine being married to a lunatic.] [Call the cops and get her committed to a psych ward before she hurts someone else!] My fists clenched so tightly my skin went white. "Robert, every single word he's saying is a lie." Robert looked at me with cold indifference. "We're gearing up for a massive product launch. Everything we do is under heavy media scrutiny. I'm sorry, Daisy, but with your current public image, you're a liability." "He is defaming me! I am completely sane!" "The public doesn't care about the truth, only the optics. Settle your domestic drama first, then we can talk about your employment..." "Robert." A calm, deep voice cut through the air, freezing Robert instantly in his tracks. I turned around. Tianchen was walking toward us, wearing a charcoal-gray dress shirt with the sleeves rolled casually up to his forearms. His dark eyes were sharp as a straight razor. Robert’s arrogant tone vanished, replaced by an eager, groveling posture. "Mr. Vance, I was just thinking about the company's PR..." Tianchen’s face was stone-cold. "Daisy is the lead architect I personally recruited. Nobody else in this building has the clearance or the skill to run the North American rollout. If you think you're qualified, by all means, step up." Robert swallowed hard, shrinking back into the corner without another word. I didn't waste time on pleasantries. Looking at Tianchen, I said, "I need a private room with high-speed uplink. Right now." Tianchen didn't ask a single question. "The executive boardroom on the nineteenth floor is open. If anyone dares step foot inside, tell them to take it up with me." Chloe grabbed my hand, and we sprinted for the elevator. The moment the boardroom doors clicked shut, I flipped open my laptop, my fingers dancing across the mechanical keys with lethal speed. Within three minutes, I breached the backend of Ethan’s livestream. He was still playing the martyr. "I know a lot of people are angry at my wife," Ethan sniffled, dabbing his eyes. "Please, don't attack her. She's a victim of mental illness..." With a dark expression, I hit Enter, forcibly hijacking his broadcast and overriding his feed with a two-way split-screen. The chat froze for a fraction of a second, then detonated. [WHAT THE HELL??? IS THAT DAISY???] [Wait, she’s in California?!] [What is going on right now?!] Ethan’s face went dead white. Before he could utter a sound, my voice cut through the stream, clear and chilling. "Ethan. Weren't you begging for me to come back? I'm right here." "Why don't you tell everyone watching what you actually did?" His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. "Daisy... don't be reckless..." I cut him off without mercy. "You put a hidden camera in our master bedroom to film me breastfeeding and changing clothes, and then you uploaded those videos onto a paid forum for thousands of sick men to watch." The chat erupted into pure pandemonium. [WHAT THE FUCK?!?!] [A hidden camera?! A paywalled forum?!] "The username was 'WifeWatcher,'" I continued coldly. "You deleted the posts, but you still collect a monthly payout from the site administrators. Do you want me to project your bank statements on the screen right now?" Ethan looked like he was about to vomit. He parted his lips to stammer out a defense, but my words hit like rapid-fire artillery. "And what about the apartment downtown? You've been living there with your mistress for nearly six months. The night our daughter was dying of acute liver failure, while I was running through the pouring rain trying to beg a cab to stop, where were you? You abandoned your dying child to comfort your mistress because a rat scared her." The narrative completely flipped on its head. The comments that had been tearing me apart turned their fury straight at Ethan. [Are you out of your fucking mind, Ethan?!] [Your daughter was dying and you went to your mistress?!] [Spycamming his own wife?! That's a federal crime!] Ethan bolted out of his chair, roaring, "Daisy, stop spreading these disgusting lies!" I tilted my head, the corner of my lips curving into a razor-thin smile. I engaged screen-share. Bank transfers, GPS travel histories, forum server logs, and the original camera metadata were displayed in pristine, unassailable order for hundreds of thousands of viewers. Ethan stood frozen on camera, his expression warping from pure rage to raw terror. The viewer count spiked from twenty thousand to a hundred thousand, then half a million. Breaking headlines surged onto social media feeds within seconds: #ProfessorEthanExposed #HusbandSpiesOnWife Ethan let out an animalistic roar and ripped the power cord straight from the wall, killing his feed. Slowly, I released my grip on the mouse, only then realizing how hard my hands were shaking. As a tear rolled silently down my cheek, my daughter's face filled my thoughts. How I wished I could hold her just one more time. But I wasn't finished. This was only the beginning.