The two-day hot spring trip wasn’t enjoyable at all. I was constantly worried about my daughter. 

So, the evening I returned, I straightaway rushed to my daughter’s room and scooped her up from the cradle. 

“Oh, my sweetheart, I missed you so much. Did you miss Mommy?” I kissed her forehead gently. 

But she started crying loudly. Alarmed, I turned on the light, only to discover a large bruise on her forehead. 

“Blake!” I called my husband while rushing to the living room, where he was playing a game. He glanced at me over his shoulder. 

“What happened to her forehead?”I asked. 

“Oh, she bumped it. Relax, It’s nothing serious. Kids get bumps and bruises all the time,” he said nonchalantly. 

“This big bruise?”I suppressed my anger, cradling my daughter and softly stroking her forehead. “This is your idea of ‘nothing serious’? She’s only one year old, Blake!” 

“You’re overreacting.”He put down his glass of whiskey.“Don’t forget, I broke my leg when I was three. She has my Alpha blood—she’s strong. This little bump is nothing.” 

“Strong?”My voice trembled.“She’s a preemie, Blake! Her body is fragile, and she has colic!” 

“I’m not dismissing your concern,”he replied, frowning“I honestly don’t know what happened. Ivy and I were taking care of her the whole time. Maybe she bumped into something.” 

Ivy was my therapist, hired by Blake months ago at a high salary to treat my postpartum depression. This trip had also been her idea. 

“I’m calling Ivy to find out what happened,”I said, grabbing my phone. 

“It’s late. You shouldn’t disturb her ,”Blake replied hesitantly.“Ivy has done so much for you. Calling her now might make her feel like you’re blaming her for not taking care of Ava properly.” 

“But Ava is hurt!”I said, clutching my daughter tightly as my anger boiled to the surface. 

“Nina, listen to me. It’s late. Tomorrow, we can take Ava to the hospital for a check-up. You’ve just returned and need to rest.” 

He pulled me into his arms, his embrace firm and familiar. Reluctantly, I nodded. 

The night deepened, and the house fell silent. 

Blake’s breathing was steady, and my daughter slept peacefully in her cradle. Yet, I lay wide awake. I couldn’t sleep, wondering how Ava got hurt. 

So, I put on a coat and tiptoed to the study room. 

There, I turned on the surveillance system and played the footage from 3 p.m. 

I saw Blake kissing my daughter in the living room and entering the bedroom, followed by Ivy after a few minutes. 

Ava then began crawling and accidentally bumped into the edge of the table. She was crying hard, but neither Blake nor Ivy walked out to check. 

What the hell were they doing inside? 

I fast-forwarded the video, and I found it was almost an hour Blake and Ivy took to come out. And as I watched Ivy’s face, my chest tightened. 

Her face was completely flushed！ 

I stormed back to the bedroom, yanking Blake out of bed. 

“What now?” His tone laced with irritation. 

“Tell me what you and Ivy were doing in our bedroom yesterday at 3 p.m. Why was Ava crying outside for so long, and you didn’t care?” 

He froze for a moment but quickly regained his composure. 

“Ivy was discussing your condition with me. We had music on, and it might’ve been too loud for us to hear Ava crying. Besides, Ava’s usually a quiet child. Not hearing her isn’t unusual.” 

“You think I’m going to believe that?” I snapped. 

“What do you want me to say?” He said, feigning innocence.“Do you think I’d intentionally neglect her? Don’t forget—I’m her father too.” 

“There are no cameras in our bedroom, so I can’t prove you’re lying. Who knows what you and Ivy were doing in there?” 

Blake’s expression hardened, his voice dropping to a serious tone. 

“I think your postpartum depression is getting worse.” 

“I may have depression, but I’m not an idiot!”