On the day my wife officially announced her relationship with her eleventh young boyfriend, our daughter, left alone at home, fell from the balcony.
On her deathbed, our daughter expressed her wish to see her mom one last time.
During a live TV broadcast, Harlow laughed derisively when she received my call.
"Fitch, since when did you learn to use such cheap tactics for attention?"
"You think using our daughter as an excuse will make me come back to see you? Let me tell you, doing this only makes me find you more disgusting!"
The call ended abruptly. The light in our daughter's eyes shattered and disappeared, her forced vitality rapidly fading.
With a beep, the monitor's ECG flatlined into an unwavering straight line.
My heart ached so much that I fainted. When I came to, I saw my mother-in-law, Delia, who had rushed back from abroad.
Meeting her guilt-ridden gaze, I spoke softly.
"I'm sorry, but I can't continue to fulfill the contract. Please let me go."