Chapter 02
The Truth Behind the Gates
The moment Adrian stepped inside, the cold air-conditioning hit him hard. It wasn’t just cool, but sharp, like a hotel lobby that never wanted you to get comfortable.
The house smelled sterile. No fresh bread, no flowers from the garden. Instead, expensive essential oils hung in the air, clean and cold. His eyes lifted to the main wall—the family portrait was gone. In its place hung a massive oil painting of Vanessa, his current wife, looking flawless and distant.
“Where’s Hannah?” Adrian demanded.
The housekeeper, Diane, appeared with her hands twisting her apron in fear. She didn’t meet his eyes, pointing toward the glass doors leading to the backyard.
"Adrian didn’t wait for another word. He strode down the hall, the sound of his steps loud and lonely."
In the middle of the spotless garden, under the harsh sun, a small figure was struggling. Hannah. His Hannah. Her shirt was too big, dust coated her knees, and her hair was pulled back messily. She was dragging a large black trash bag tied with rope—the sack was nearly as big as she was.
A few feet away, Vanessa sat in a cushioned chair, sipping an iced coffee like she was at a resort. Watching a child struggle like it was a chore that meant nothing.
“HANNAH!”
His voice cracked through the yard.
When she saw him, her face didn’t light up. It flinched.
“Dad!” she cried, her voice thin and shaky. “I’m sorry, I’m not finished yet. Please don’t be mad. She said if I don’t clean the whole yard, I can’t have milk. I’m so thirsty. I just wanted milk.”
Milk. The word hit Adrian like a punch to the ribs. His daughter, who had everything money could buy, was being made to earn a basic drink.