My Ex’s Dog Brought Me the Pendant I Buried with Our Late Daughter – What He Led Me to Made My Blood Boil

“Mommy!” she screamed, running to me.

I sobbed into her hair. She still smelled of vanilla cookies.

I held Lily so tightly that one of the officers gently said, “Ma’am, she’s safe now,” and I realized my arms were shaking. Lily pulled back just enough to look at my face, her small hands pressing against my cheeks like she used to do when she wanted my full attention.

“Mommy,” she said again, slower this time, like she was checking to see if I was real.

“You came back.”

My heart stuttered. “I never left you, baby. I promise.

I never left.”

She frowned, confused, then leaned in and whispered, “Daddy said you died because you were sick, and I would live with him now.”

That was when the anger truly hit me. Not sharp, not explosive, but deep and boiling, the kind that makes your vision narrow and your jaw lock. Garrett had taken not only my child, but he had also lied to her about me.

An officer wrapped a blanket more securely around Lily and led us a few steps away from the house.

I kept my arms around her, my hand pressed protectively against her back.

That was when I noticed a woman standing on the porch, her hands clenched together so tightly that her knuckles were white. She looked exhausted, her hair pulled into a low ponytail, her face pale with shock.

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