Blurb：
David was thousands of miles away, having just secured a multi-billion-dollar deal, when a single selfie from his daughter, Emily, shattered his world. “Dad, Emily misses you.” The message was simple, but the faint scratches near her collar and the dark bruises on her arms, visible when he zoomed in, told a horrifying story his wife, Amanda, refused to see. His worry turned to cold dread when he saw an Instagram post from Scarlett, the girl Amanda had brought into their home two years ago. There, amidst the flaunted luxury gifts, sat Emily’s most cherished possession: the stuffed bunny David had given her for her third birthday—the bunny she couldn’t sleep without.
Amanda dismissed his concerns with an impatient tone, accusing David of overreacting. But how could he, when memories of Emily spiking a fever over forgetting that very bunny haunted him? Amanda’s sudden coldness towards their daughter was a stark contrast to the mother who once panicked over a scraped knee. Suspicion mounting, David dropped his critical overseas contract and boarded the next flight home. Digging deeper from the airport, he discovered Scarlett’s Instagram was a curated lie of expensive Louis Vuitton bags and ten-thousand-dollar necklaces—a far cry from the “frugal” girl the housekeeper and driver praised. With Amanda seemingly covering for Scarlett, David realizes he is the only one who can protect Emily and uncover the dark truth hiding within his own home.
Content：
After a year-long business trip overseas, I suddenly received a selfie from my daughter.
Dad, Emily misses you.
I was about to reply with comforting words when a faint scratch near her collar caught my eye.
Zooming in on the photo, I realized it wasn’t just her neck.
There were dark bruises on her arms too.
Lost in worry, I scrolled past an Instagram post from Scarlett, the girl my wife brought home two years ago.
She was flaunting her expensive birthday gifts.
On her nightstand stood Emily’s favorite stuffed bunny.
I gave that bunny to Emily for her third birthday. She wouldn’t even sleep without it.
How did it end up on Scarlett’s nightstand?
I called my wife, Amanda, back home.
But she brushed me off, saying I was overreacting.
“It’s just a worn-out stuffed animal! Maybe Emily got tired of it and gave it to Scarlett!”
The more I thought about it, the more suspicious it seemed.
I checked Scarlett’s spending records, and the truth hit me like a ton of bricks.
The worst part? My wife was covering for her!
I’d just signed a multi-billion-dollar contract with a major overseas client when my daughter Emily sent me a selfie.
Seeing her downcast expression broke my heart.
I was about to tell her I’d be home in a few days for vacation to cheer her up.
But I noticed those faint bruises on her. I went alert.
I tried asking her casually about them, but her answers were evasive.
As I pressed it, she stopped replying to me, which was weird.
I thought about checking her Instagram to see what she’d been up to.
Instead, I stumbled upon a post from Scarlett, the girl my wife took in.
Scarlett was showing off her birthday gifts.
To my shock, Emily’s beloved stuffed bunny, the one she never parted with, was sitting on Scarlett’s nightstand.
I remembered when we brought little Emily for a trip, she cried non-stop because she’d forgotten the bunny at home.
She even spiked a fever that night, nearly causing serious harm.
After that, wherever we went, that bunny came with us.
I called Amanda back home to ask about the bunny, but she thought I was being paranoid.
“Emily’s thirteen now, David. Isn’t it normal she’d outgrow a stuffed animal?”
“Maybe she gave it to Scarlett because she didn’t want it anymore.”
“Look, just focus on your work. Don’t overthink it.”
Her tone was impatient, and she hung up at once after that last sentence.
Her unusual attitude made me feel even more uneasy.
Amanda used to dote on Emily.
When Emily was little, even a scraped knee would send Amanda into a panic, crying to take her to the ER.
The memory of Emily nearly getting sick over that bunny still haunted me.
I couldn’t believe Amanda had forgotten that.
But to be honest, Amanda’s attitude towards Emily turned colder these years.
When Emily accidentally cut her hand, Amanda just told her to get the antiseptic herself.
After some thought, I decided to drop everything and go home.
I handed off the remaining work to a colleague and booked the next flight back.
While waiting to board, I checked Scarlett’s Instagram again.
This time, her profile was completely blank.
I remembered I had a secondary account that followed her.
Logging in with that, I saw her posts were still there C she’d just blocked my main account.
Looking closely at her pictures, I realized everything around her was luxury goods.
A thirteen-year-old girl with a limited-edition Louis Vuitton bag?
And that necklace around her neck? I looked it up C worth over ten grand.
Scarlett was just a girl with humble background. Amanda insisted we take her in a couple of years ago.
Where did she get that kind of money?
Besides, I’d always taught Emily not to be materialistic.
Her clothes never cost more than a few hundred dollars.
To learn more, I called our housekeeper and driver about Scarlett.
But what surprised me even more was how they all sang her praises, saying Scarlett was incredibly well-behaved at home.
They said she was frugal, wearing clothes until they were threadbare.
The more they praised her, the more suspicious I became.
It felt rehearsed, like they were all reading from the same script.
If Scarlett was so frugal, how did she explain the bag and the necklace?
People from my company volunteered to pick me up at the airport.
They said it had been nearly a year since they’d seen the boss, joking they might not recognize me.
Over the years, I’d been building my own company through hard work.
Therefore, I’d spent very little time with my family.
Now I was restless, just wanting to get home to my wife and daughter.
After a three-hour flight, I finally landed.
I declined my colleagues’ offer for a welcome dinner and took a cab home.
It was 11 PM, a time when everyone should be asleep, but Emily’s room light was still on.
I didn’t announce myself.
Quietly approaching her room, I saw her hunched over homework, looking anxious and vacant.
Seeing her like that twisted my heart.
I figured schoolwork must be overwhelming, keeping her up so late.
I pushed the door open, intending to surprise her.
But she flinched at the sound, instinctively shielding her face.
She curled into a ball like she’d been struck by terror.
“Emily, sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s Dad.”
Hearing my voice, she froze for a second, then flew into my arms.
“Dad! You’re finally home!”
She sobbed, tears streaming silently down her face.
I held her, patting her back.
“Dad’s home. Why are you still doing homework so late?”
As I reached for the notebook, she snatched it back.
But I’d already seen the name on it.
Scarlett Rogers.
It wasn’t her homework.
Just then, a figure appeared at the door, asking timidly,
“Dad? When did you get back?”
It was Scarlett.
I looked at her, then pointed at the notebook.
“Scarlett, why is your homework in Emily’s room?”
A flicker of panic crossed Scarlett’s eyes before she looked at Emily.
“Emily offered to help me because I had so much. She volunteered.”
Emily looked down.
“Y-yes… I offered to help Scarlett with her homework. It wasn’t her fault.”
Her voice trembled, her whole body shaking with fear.
Unsatisfied, I kept my gaze at Scarlett.
She looked utterly unconcerned, just smiling faintly.
“You heard her. Emily offered to help. I didn’t force her.”
“Right, Emily?”
Scarlett drew out the word “Emily”, lingering on it.
It sounded harmless to me, but Emily went pale.
“Yes… Scarlett.”
Her submissive posture broke my heart and fueled my anger.
Emily was the princess of this house. Since when did she need to cower before an outsider?
“Scarlett, take your homework back and do it yourself. Handle your own responsibilities.”
Scarlett didn’t argue, taking the notebook back to her room.
Closer now, I saw the dark circles under Emily’s eyes, like she hadn’t slept properly in ages.
Worse, she looked pale and gaunt, a shadow of the vibrant girl I’d left behind.
Emily clung to my hand, afraid I’d vanish.
“Dad, are you staying this time? Not leaving again?”
Her pleading tone tore at me.
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I’m staying right here with you.”
All these years, I thought providing a comfortable life was showing love.
Now I realized how wrong I was.
At her age, mental well-being was just as important, something money couldn’t buy.
Sometimes, just being there with my dear daughter meant more than anything else.
I asked about Amanda. Emily’s eyes darted nervously.
“Mom said she had company business. She’ll be home very late.”
I was puzzled. Company business this late?
I told Emily to get some sleep, but she begged me to sleep in my room.
I let her have the master bed while I slept on the floor beside her.
Before bed, I told her a story, then gently asked about the marks on her neck and arm.
She glanced fearfully towards the door, then stammered,
“Dad… please don’t ask. I… I did it by accident.”
Seeing she didn’t want to talk, I didn’t push.
But a thorn lodged itself in my heart.
Emily should be bright and cheerful at her age. Seeing her so withdrawn and fearful was agonizing.
The more I saw it, the deeper my guilt cut. I couldn’t stop blaming myself for not being with her enough.
I decided to put work on hold and focus on Emily.
I tried calling Amanda, asking her to come home, but she was impatient.
“I’m starting a new venture with friends. I’m swamped. You spend time with her.”
Amanda had never told me about a new company.
She always acted first and told me later. I’d grown used to it.
Two years ago, Amanda brought home a girl, Scarlett, saying she looked so pitiful it reminded her of Emily and broke her heart.
She said Emily needed a playmate, so we should take her in.
I resisted at first.
Helping her was fine, but bringing her home? Not appropriate.
For that, Amanda gave me the silent treatment until I caved in for peace.
The moment Scarlett arrived, she demanded Emily give her beautiful room to her.
Besides, she took Emily’s favorite snacks without asking, acting like she owned the place, instead of being a guest.
I complained to Amanda often, but she’d say,
“She’s just a kid, David. No bad intentions. Just blunt.”
I tried to convince myself that having another girl around would make Emily happier and more outgoing.
But truth was, Emily seemed burdened with Scarlett’s presence.
I regretted being obsessed with work and not being with Emily for enough time.
Now I decided family came first now.
Watching Emily fall into a peaceful sleep, I smiled with relief.
But a sudden shout from downstairs jolted her awake.
I rushed out to find Scarlett sprawled on the couch, legs up, playing a video game and cursing loudly.
?
“Bunch of idiots! Learn to play!”
The sight made my knuckles turn white.
“Scarlett, keep it down. Emily’s asleep.”
Scarlett didn’t even glance my way, her tone dripping with annoyance.
“So? Not my problem! Shut up, I’m losing!”
She seemed to have forgotten her place. I cut the Wi-Fi. Scarlett jumped up, furious.
“Why’d you do that?! I was about to win!”
I glared at her coldly.
“I told you to be quiet. But you don’t.”
“Do you think this is your house? That you can do whatever you want?”
“If there’s next time, you find somewhere else to live.”
Seeing I was serious, Scarlett shot me a resentful look, muttering,
“Mom never yells at me like this.”
Then she stormed off to her room, slamming the door so hard the chandelier shook.
A decision was made in my mind. When Amanda got back, Scarlett was leaving.
Early the next morning, the housekeeper, Martha Rogers, knocked, saying breakfast was ready.
I sent Emily to get ready, then we headed down to the dining room.
On the stairs, we ran into Scarlett.
Instantly, Emily shrank behind me like a mouse spotting a cat, eyes darting away to avoid Scarlett.
I couldn’t understand why she was so terrified of her.
I held Emily’s hand as we sat down together. Scarlett sat across from us.
But when Martha brought out different breakfasts for the girls, I was mad.
“Martha, why are breakfasts different? Scarlett has fresh juice. Emily doesn’t?”
Martha shrugged dismissively.
“Scarlett’s growing. She needs the nutrients.”
“Emily drank plenty as a kid. Too much is wasteful.”
I slammed my hand on the table. Everyone froze.
“What did you just say? ‘Too much’?”
“My daughter isn’t worthy of juice in her own home?”
Martha mumbled something, then said grudgingly,
“Fine. I’ll get her some.”
She was gone nearly half an hour before returning with a glass, slamming it down.
“No fresh juice. Only frozen concentrate.”
I frowned. “How is there no fresh juice? We get gallons delivered daily. Enough for everyone.”
Martha glanced nervously at Scarlett.
“House is full. It gets used up fast.”
I turned to Emily. “Do you drink a lot of juice, honey?”
Emily shook her head, but seeing Scarlett watching her, she quickly said, “Y-yes.”
Right then, I understood.
Martha’s behavior was suspicious.
More suspicious? Her last name was Rogers. And the driver? Also Rogers.
I didn’t believe it was coincidence.
I remembered Amanda hired them both, saying they were distant relatives, trustworthy.
Back then, I’d wanted security cameras, but Amanda refused, citing privacy.
Now, without cameras, I needed another way to find the truth.
I recalled Amanda asking for a credit card a while back.
I assumed it was for her, so I didn’t question it.
But recently, I noticed a huge charge for a Louis Vuitton bag.
Amanda never used bags of that brand.
I checked the card statement online and my face went dark.
Nearly $20,000 spent in one month.
I called one of the stores listed. The answer made my blood boil.
The clerk said the buyer was a young girl, around fifteen, with a mole on her face, and she’d bought bags for two friends too.
The girl with the mole must be Scarlett.
Suppressing my rage, I checked the car’s dashcam footage.
What I saw made veins bulge on the back of my hand.
The driver, whom I hired specifically to take Emily to school, only drove one Scarlett for the entire year I was abroad.
So how did Emily get to school?
I was about to confront Scarlett when I bumped into someone familiar.
It was Charlie, our part-time gardener, my trustworthy distant uncle.
He only came a few times a month for yard work, but I paid him a full salary.
He was diligent, even helping with odd jobs or keeping an eye on the house.
He looked surprised to see me, and I caught a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.
I pulled him aside. “Charlie, you looked like you wanted to say something?”
He struggled, then sighed.
“David… I shouldn’t say this, but… you need to watch your back at home.”
I pressed him, and he spilled everything.
“That housekeeper Martha is a thief.”
“She sells stuff from the house, overcharges for groceries and pockets the difference.”
“I’ve caught her. She threatened to break my legs if I talked.”
“And the driver? I said something once, Martha called him over, and they threatened to beat me up.”
“That Scarlett acts like royalty.”
“She washes her face and feet with milk! I saw her pour a whole bottle down the drain once!”
” I told her not to waste it. Know what she called me?”
“‘Old fart. A lowly gardener has no right to tell a princess what to do.'”
“And I’ve seen her manhandle Emily. Hitting her, yelling at her.”
Immediately, I had people investigate Martha’s suppliers and the driver’s records.
Then I found Emily. “Honey, is Scarlett bullying you?”
At first, she stammered, unwilling to answer.
But then I found a video on her phone C a clip of her being taunted.
My poor Emily finally broke down in terror, confessing everything.
There was another video showing her being cornered by a group of girls.
They kicked her. They punched her.
They even shoved a filthy mop head into her mouth and jabbed her back with the handle.
The ringleader? Scarlett Rogers, the girl we’d taken in.
Seeing that, I could no longer hold back.
I stormed into Scarlett’s room with Emily’s phon.
“Explain this!”
Seeing the video, Scarlett paled.
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