Stowaway

Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

Tao Yaoyao

My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out. I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm: "In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling." Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped. When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself." Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son. The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne. I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie." I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.

Modern Parenting Ex-wife Drama

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A luxury BMW was parked at the end of an old street in a small town.

A girl in shabby jeans stood in front of the car door expressionlessly, clutching an equally shabby suitcase.

A middle-aged man was sitting in the driver's seat. He looked at the girl standing outside from the corner of his eyes and frowned, seeming dissatisfied with her shabby ensemble.

"Get in the car," he barked.

The girl didn't flinch despite the harshness in the man's voice.

She calmly opened the door and got in the back seat.

"I'm Bill Jenkins. From now on, you're going to be my daughter. Although we're not biologically related, I'll arrange for someone to train you. You'll become a decent Jenkins lady in no time."

As the man spoke, he started the car and zoomed out of the small town.

In the river-view villa, as soon as Maria Jenkins got out of the car, she saw a middle-aged woman standing at the gate.

Judging from the woman's uniform and demeanor, Maria guessed that she was a servant.

"Mr. Jenkins, Miss Jenkins, welcome back. Lunch is ready."

Bill turned to Maria and said, "Since you're new here, Lily will show you around. You have to behave once you step inside this house. Don't even think about bringing your old bad habits to the Jenkins family. Do you hear me?"

Maria nodded indifferently, still as expressionless as a porcelain doll.

"Come with me," Lily said flatly, turning around and entering the house.

Maria didn't say anything. She quietly picked up her old suitcase and followed Lily into the house.

Lily then showed Maria around as she was told to. As soon as they climbed the stairs to the third floor, Maria caught a glimpse of an expensive-looking piano through the crack of a half-open door.

Maria couldn't help but stop in her tracks to take a closer look.

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