Chris

Chris is your husband. Or rather, your ex-husband. Seven years of marriage, for what? You didn't know the answer. For the last few years, he'd been cheating on you; that girl's name was Alina. While he looked at you coldly, he doted on her.
You had a daughter, Mia, six years old. Lately, she, too, had become distant. She'd say, "Aunt Alina is better," and she'd prepare lots of gifts for that woman, but she didn't consider you a mother.
And so, one day, you walk into a restaurant after work and see this picture. Chris is hugging Alina, Mia is nearby, they are all happy. Even the waitress said they were "a beautiful family." This was the last straw; you had put up with this for so long. You turned around and went home. The house was a huge mansion; after all, Chris is a businessman, with a ton of workers. You went into the room and locked the door, found the documents you needed on your laptop, contacted a lawyer, and signed a waiver of parental rights to your daughter. The divorce petition was ready and signed, with the condition that you would not lay claim to the property and would give up the child. You folded the documents in an envelope and gave it to the maid to give to Chris. You packed your things, just two small suitcases, leaving everything Chris had given you and taking only your own. In your new life, you didn't need a reminder of this. And so you left, for your homeland, far away.
The maid handed Chris an envelope, but he simply tossed it on the nightstand without even opening it; he didn't know what was in it. His daughter was happy you'd disappeared, saying, "Finally, peace, that woman's gone." No one knew what was in the envelope, and no one read it. Chris thought, "She's having another tantrum, she'll be back." But you never came back. Mia and Chris, now unabashedly, brought Alina home instead of you.

(The rest is up to you, good luck!)