After her discharge from the hospital, Mr. Lin did not drive Lin Hye Ji to the family mansion. Instead, he took her straight to a luxury hotel. The excuse was that the mansion was still under renovation, but in truth, every corner of that house held fragments of the past — traces that could awaken memories he wanted buried forever.
Lin Hye Ji pressed her face against the car window, sulking, her pout as exaggerated as a child denied a toy. "Dad, why are we at a hotel instead of home? I want to go back to the mansion… I want to see Mom."
The words pierced him like tiny needles. Mr. Lin inhaled sharply, forcing his voice into a heavy calm. "Little Ji, you must listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you. I didn't say it before because you were unwell, but now… now I need you to be honest with me first."
He leaned closer, eyes narrowing with a nervous gleam. "Don't you remember what happened that night?"
"Of course I do."
The casual certainty in her tone slammed into him. His heart jumped, his hands stiffening on the steering wheel. His pupils shrank as if he had been caught. "You… you… wh-what do you remember?" His voice cracked with stammers.
Lin Hye Ji tilted her head, lips pursed as she thought aloud. "Hmm… I was happily packing my luggage for the picnic the next day. Then I heard you and Mom arguing about something… divorce, I think? But when I came out, Mom told me it was 'adult talk' and not to interfere. She even tucked me into bed herself." Her voice softened, uncertain. "Dad… are you and Mom really divorcing?"
Mr. Lin's breath caught. His chest ached with the force of a heartbeat he couldn't control. For a fleeting second, panic shot through him — had she remembered? But when she said nothing more, relief washed over him like he had just stepped off a roller coaster and narrowly avoided death.
"And then?" he pressed, voice hoarse.
"Then I woke up in the hospital with Aunt Shen hugging me, crying. But… Dad…" She frowned deeply, pressing her finger to her jaw as her brows knitted. "When Mom tucked me in, her eyes were red. She even decided to sleep beside me that night. I heard her crying. Why? What happened between you two?"
Mr. Lin shut his eyes and exhaled long, steady, and practiced. The moment he opened them, his mask was back on — sorrow painted across his face, though it was carefully arranged, every crease rehearsed.
"You said you heard us mention divorce?"
She nodded silently.
"Actually, Little Ji," he began, lowering his voice as if confiding in her, "your mother and I… we were going to separate."
Her eyes widened, and her small hands trembled in her lap. The word divorce struck her like a blade. She remembered classmates who had gone through the same — mothers leaving with children, fathers disappearing from the picture, friends crying that their families were broken. Would hers be the same?
Mr. Lin's gaze hardened though his tone remained sorrowful. "Your mother… she found another man. She wanted to divorce me and split the assets to live with him. But those companies, those properties — they belong to us, you and me. Why should I hand them to her and some stranger?" His voice trembled with a righteous anger, practiced enough to sound convincing. "When I refused, she lost her temper. She tried to smash me with a vase, but I dodged. She slipped… she fell down the stairs." He paused, lowering his voice to a whisper heavy with false grief. "She didn't make it, Little Ji."
The world froze. Lin Hye Ji shook her head slowly at first, then faster, until her hair whipped against her cheeks. Her chest heaved as tears blurred her vision.
"No… no… no!" Her scream pierced the air, raw and sharp, making the walls of the hotel suite seem to close in. She clutched her head with both hands as if trying to tear away the image he painted. "Mom would never do that! She loved us, Dad! She loved our little family. She was soft, gentle… she never even raised her voice at me. She wouldn't—she couldn't!"
Her body trembled violently as sobs tore through her. With a surge of anguish, she shoved her father away, her tears staining the carpet at her feet. "I don't believe you!"
Mr. Lin's jaw clenched, his patience thinning like a frayed rope. The sorrowful mask slipped, replaced by cold annoyance. He rose abruptly, straightening his suit jacket.
"I'll leave you with Housekeeper Shen," he said flatly, his tone clipped with irritation. "Stay here for two days. I'll return to take you to the burial ceremony."
Without waiting for her reply, he turned on his heel and walked out, the slam of the door leaving behind an echo as suffocating as the truth he had just twisted.
Alone, Lin Hye Ji's sobs filled the silence, her heart refusing to accept the poison her father had fed her. Somewhere deep within, she clung to the warmth of her mother's last embrace — and the quiet certainty that the truth had yet to be revealed.
"Ah! Faith has wronged you, my poor child…" Housekeeper Shen collapsed at Lin Hye Ji's bedside, her shoulders shaking as bitter tears streamed down her worn face. Her voice was thick with anguish, trembling between love and guilt.
She had prayed — foolishly prayed — that the girl's selective amnesia would shield her from the horror of that night. She had thought perhaps it was Heaven's mercy, sparing Hye Ji from memories too cruel for a child's heart. But never, never had she imagined that her master would be so shameless, so monstrous, as to twist the truth and feed his daughter such venomous lies.
Her chest heaved as she rocked herself, words breaking through sobs. "Your mother… your mother loved you with all her soul, Little Ji."_'Even when she discovered his betrayal, even when she learned he had another family outside… she never lifted her voice, never once cursed him. She only asked for one third of the property — not for greed, but simply so she and you would not starve. That was all'
All the words she couldn't say out, she vented silently in her hearted wishing she could say them all out
Her hands clawed at her apron as her voice cracked into a whisper. 'And for that, he murdered her. He murdered the gentlest woman I have ever known… and now he dares twist her memory into something foul.'
Housekeeper Shen pressed her face into her palms, trembling as guilt flooded her veins like ice. 'Even I am no better' she wept. 'Because I too betrayed her. I let fear master me. When Su Man's brother — that officer with cold eyes — threatened my family, I… I broke. I lied for them. I told their false tales as if they were truth.'
Her nails dug into her skin until crescent moons of pain bloomed red. Her voice was hoarse, self-condemning.' I am a coward. I could not protect your mother, and now I cannot protect you. I am no better than they are…'
Guilt gnawed at her like a beast, tearing piece by piece from her soul. All she could do was cry at the foot of the bed, her tears falling onto the girl's blanket like a silent vow — a vow that one day, somehow, the truth must be spoken, even if it cost her everything.