Justice for My Daughter

My phone screen slid rapidly under my fingertips, the feed constantly refreshing, until a headline suddenly grabbed my attention—"The guy I like is already married. Should I still chase him?" For some reason, I clicked on it. The poster was a celebrity influencer with millions of fans, their profile pic a face so flawless it seemed unreal. The top comments had already been pushed way up. "He said the woman at home was just a responsibility, but in his heart, it's always been me." In the photo, the woman's pale neck wore a pink diamond necklace, her slender hand tightly held by another with pronounced knuckles. My breath caught sharply, and my fingertips went ice cold in an instant. That hand—I knew it too well. The small light brown mole on the inside of the wrist was like a mark etched deep into my memory. It was clearly Charles Jones's. The influencer's ID was 'Beauty Amy,' and I had seen that name on a delivery receipt inside Charles Jones's car before. At the time, he brushed it off, saying she was just his assistant. I staggered to my feet, hurried to the hallway, and snatched the wedding ring Charles had carelessly left on the shoe cabinet. The platinum ring was icy cold, and the engraving inside—'CJ&AL'—was so sharp it made me want to shut my eyes tight. That's not an abbreviation of my name, Lisa Carter, but rather Charles Jones and Amy Lynn. My stomach churned violently, a sour bitterness rising to my throat. I leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. My phone crashed onto the tiles with a loud thud, the screen still showing Amy Lynn's latest reply: "We'll be open about it very soon."