I drifted over to Colin. "If you liked Jasmine all along, why did you accept the fate arranged by the Moon Goddess back then? Why did you acknowledge me as your fated mate?"

Sadly, he couldn't hear me either.

He and Father always put Jasmine first. They hadn't even noticed me growing weaker from the wolfsbane poisoning.

Now that I was dead, they were even less likely to notice me.

Defeated, I floated over to Jasmine, looking at the pearl-studded wedding dress she wore.

That was a design I had spent three months on, the position of every pearl painstakingly revised.

After the fitting, Father prepared to leave. My soul, like a dog on an invisible leash, was dragged along.

Back home, Father sat on the sofa, constantly checking his phone.

After failing to reach me via mind-link, he made three more unanswered calls.

"Throwing a tantrum, won't even answer calls," he complained, frowning. "Always so unreasonable, never as sensible as Jasmine."

"I'm dead! How could I answer?" I retorted reflexively, then realized, "Oh right, you don't even know I'm dead."

A more pathetic truth struck me: given Father's level of neglect towards me, he might not realize I was gone for another two years.

Whereas if Jasmine didn't reply to a message for ten minutes, he'd turn the entire Pack upside down in panic.

The following days felt like prolonged torture. I was forced to watch Father fuss over Jasmine, watch Colin shower her with tenderness.

Fate was truly ironic. When I was alive, I could barely get them to see me; dead, I had to witness their happiness 24/7.

"Aren't you the one who hates seeing me most?" I taunted, floating right in front of Father. "Go find a sorcerer to exorcise me! Didn't you always wish I'd disappear?"

Even as I said it, I felt a flicker of fear. How painful was soul-scattering? No one had ever told me.

I turned to Colin. "Forget it, you bury me instead. Maybe then I can go to heaven. Marry whoever you want. But why lie to me saying it was forced? It's not like this is the first time she's taken what belonged to me."

I rambled on for a long time, but they couldn't hear a single word.

Their world consisted only of Jasmine, Jasmine, Jasmine.

As if she were the Moon Goddess incarnate.

Soon, Colin and Jasmine's Marking Ceremony arrived.

That morning, Pack social media exploded—news of 'Chris Successfully Extracts Dead Memories' flooded every feed.

The report said Chris would conduct a public demonstration at 10:30 AM.

Father and Colin saw the news but paid it no mind. They were busy with final preparations for the Marking Ceremony.

When I saw the ceremony venue, I nearly exploded with rage—not only had they used my wedding dress design, but the entire venue layout was copied straight from my blueprints.

Father and Colin knew full well I'd spent countless sleepless nights drawing those.

"Shameless!" I roared.

Father was instructing the guards: "If you see Jane, under no circumstances let her in."

"Beg me and I wouldn't come!" I was furious. "Who wants to watch your disgusting performance?!"

Colin said to Lina, who had come for the Marking Ceremony: "After the ceremony, I'll explain to Jane personally. She's so understanding, she'll surely comprehend."

"Comprehend? When pigs fly!" I swung a fist at him, but it passed harmlessly through his body.

Lina's tears suddenly spilled over. "You... you bastards!"

Seeing her cry made my heart ache. I tried to wipe her tears, but my fingers passed through her face again and again.

Then Lina raised her phone with trembling hands; the screen showed Chris's live broadcast.

My corpse lay quietly on the experimental table, wearing my favorite floral dress.

But the long illness had ravaged me beyond recognition; now I looked like a skeleton draped in skin, horrifying even to myself.

Lina trembled as she raised her phone. "Maybe it's better Jane died! At least she doesn't have to suffer your injustices anymore! With the way you people are, no wonder she didn't even want to leave her body to you!"

Father stared at the phone screen, his face instantly turning deathly pale.

His lips trembled for a few moments before he managed a dry, brittle sentence: "What does Jane's death have to do with Jasmine? Why must you cause a scene at her Marking Ceremony? Don't you know Jasmine has depression? Even dead, Jane won't let me have peace, really..."

Thud.

Colin's bouquet fell to the floor, but he didn't pick it up.

His gaze was glued to Lina's phone screen. The hand gripping the table was knuckle-white, veins bulging, just barely steadying his swaying body.

"Jane's funeral..." Colin took a deep, shuddering breath, "...can be held after the ceremony. We can't let her death affect Jasmine's emotions. Jasmine shouldn't bear responsibility for this."

I floated between them and suddenly laughed out loud.

So my life wasn't even worth Jasmine's ceremony.

"The ceremony? The ceremony?!" Lina's voice rose sharply. "Fuck your Marking Ceremony!"

She violently overturned the nearest table. Glasses shattered on the floor with a piercing crash. Guests gasped and scrambled back; chaos erupted instantly.

"You like playing favorites?" Lina stormed onto the stage, connecting her phone to the projection equipment. "I'm demanding justice for Jane today!"

On the large screen, Chris was preparing the memory extraction experiment. The image flashed back, showing seven-year-old Jasmine. She held a pair of scissors in one hand, my mother's cloth bunny rabbit in the other.

"Give it back!" Five-year-old me jumped, trying to reach it. "That's what Mom left for me!"

My mother was the Alpha's sister, but she died on the battlefield.

Jasmine waved her trophy triumphantly. "No! Who told you to fight with me for Daddy?"

Snip. The scissors cut off the bunny's ear.

"He's my daddy!" I cried, charging headfirst into Jasmine. As she fell, the scissors sliced across her palm.

My stepmother's shriek pierced the air immediately: "If Jane doesn't want us here, we'll leave right now!"

Father didn't even ask what happened.

Smack! A slap stunned me.

"Daring to hurt someone at such a young age? Go to the storage room and reflect!" Father grabbed my collar and threw me into the pitch-black closet.

I cried until my voice was hoarse in the dark. No one came.

Finally, Father only said: "Apologize to your sister."

That night, the family of they three went to the amusement park. As punishment, I was left alone at home.

The scene switched to when I was eight. In front of the Pack school's achievement board, I pointed excitedly at the top name: "Dad, look! I'm second in physical combat, first in marksmanship!"

Jasmine stood beside me, clutching a failing report card. Suddenly, she burst into loud sobs.

"Why aren't you first in combat?" Father snatched my report card. "So careless and still bragging?"

The paper shredded in his hands.

But then he turned and hugged Jasmine. "Grades don't matter. My daughter just needs to be happy. I'll take you to buy a new dress."

I crouched on the floor, picking up the pieces of paper. When Lina came over, I was clumsily trying to tape the report card back together.

"Next time, do worse on purpose," Lina advised me. "Then your dad won't scold you."

I believed her. On the next test, I deliberately missed the target. But what awaited me wasn't comfort; it was the sting of a leather belt on my skin.

"From first place to dead last? What were you doing all day at school?"

Laughter drifted from the next room: "Jasmine improved from last time, so great! Daddy bought you a new doll."

That night, curled under the blankets, I asked Lina: "Do you think... maybe Jasmine is actually Dad's real daughter?"

At thirteen, I finally couldn't take it anymore. Lina gave me an idea: "Next time, when she's not paying attention, deliberately provoke her in front of your father. Let him see her true colors!"

I waited for the perfect moment. Finally, I found one: Jasmine thought Father wasn't home. She shoved me hard to the ground and strutted off.

I ran upstairs excitedly to tell Father, whose face was grim: "Now you know her true colors!"