Cassandra And Her Idea Cassandra requested a visit to see her daughter. With the last of her remaining funds, she hired a lawyer. Given Dahlia’s critical condition, the prison granted her a day to visit.

At the hospital, she stood by the sickbed, gazing down at the frail, pale-faced child. But there was no trace of maternal love in her eyes-only seething resentment.

“This is all your fault!” She placed a hand around the child’s delicate neck.

Dahlia, too young and too weak, didn’t cry or struggle.

Every time Cassandra thought about how Nicholas had used Dahlia as a tool for revenge, a dark hatred consumed her. If only this child had never existed.

The lawyer, Jonas, approached. “Ms. Evans.”

Cassandra quickly withdrew her hand, masking her emotions with an expression of helplessness. “Mr. Jonas, look,” she said, her voice pitiful. “My child is still so young, and there’s no one else to care for her. You have to help me I can’t stay behind bars.”