My parents, the wealthiest couple in the country, were famous philanthropists. I had to ask them for permission if I wanted to spend more than five bucks. The day I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I asked them for 100 dollars, but instead of helping, they yelled at me for three hours.

"What kind of disease could you get at your age? If you're going to ask for money, at least come up with a better excuse."

"Do you know that 100 dollars could support children in poverty-stricken areas for a long time? Your sister is more sensible than you."

I dragged my sick body for miles, back to the small basement I called home. But as I passed the mall, I saw my parents, live on a huge screen, spending a fortune to rent out Disneyland for my sister. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. A hundred dollars wouldn't even cover one round of chemotherapy. I just wanted to buy a new outfit and leave with some dignity.

I was diagnosed with terminal cancer and wanted to ask my wealthy parents for 100 dollars to buy a burial suit, but they scolded me for three hours.

"Do you know that 100 dollars could support children in poverty-stricken areas for a long time? How did I end up with such a wasteful child?"

"How could you possibly have cancer, being so pampered your whole life? If you're really sick, go ahead and die. Prove to me that you're sick!"

I sat hopelessly outside the hospital, feeling the two coins left in my pocket—just enough for the bus home. I hadn't eaten a full meal in days, yet my real parents were spending a fortune to spoil my sister, renting out Disneyland just for her.

Meanwhile, they left me in a cold, remote basement, calling it "tough love".

Back in the basement, I held my only possession, a doll that had been mine since childhood, and I swore I would never go back home.

Just as I was dozing off, my father called. I shakily answered, only to hear his furious voice on the other end.

"Where did you get all that money in your account? You thief, did you steal from the family again? I transferred all the money in your account to your sister! She's not a waste like you!"

But the 20,000 dollars in my account was from a part-time job I had done last month.

I clenched my fists, feeling a bitter lump in my throat that I couldn't swallow. I had hoped they would save me, but it was all a foolish dream. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

My father, thinking I was guilty, cursed me a few more times before hanging up.

Pain shot through my body. The ache, deep in my bones, spread throughout my limbs, making me collapse onto the bed, nausea overwhelming me.

I glanced at my bank account to find only 30 dollars left. I pushed myself up, determined to buy some painkillers at the hospital.

But when I walked into the hospital, I saw Yolana Bowen walking toward me.

She had a fever patch on her forehead, and behind her were my parents, looking at her with pity, along with a group of doctors.

"Grace, why are you at the hospital? I haven't seen you at school lately. I heard you're living with your boyfriend." Her eyes fell to my stomach.

Because of my illness, I was more sensitive to the cold than most. I had layered up when I left, making me look heavier than usual.

Yolana tried to hide her shock, putting a hand over her mouth. "Grace, are you actually pregnant? How could your boyfriend let you come to the hospital by yourself?"

My parents, hearing this, immediately froze.

"So that's why you needed money? You're going to have an abortion? You liar. You made up a cancer story to deceive me. How could you curse yourself for money!"

If they had bothered to ask, they would know I'd dropped out of school long ago. How could I be fooling around with other men?

My father yanked me by the ear, ready to scold me in public. My vision blurred, and I stumbled, nearly falling.

I wanted to hand them my diagnosis and tell them to stop listening to Yolana's nonsense, but they didn't even glance at it. Instead, they crushed the paper underfoot.

"I don't know whose child you're pregnant with. Stay away with me so you won't dirty my eyes!"

"I'm not pregnant! I never lied, please believe me."

They completely ignored me, taking Yolana's hand and walking away.

I used the last of my money to buy painkillers, swallowing several tablets one after another.

But why did my heart still ache so badly? Why did it feel so cold?

I dragged my aching body out of the hospital, staring at the gray-blue sky, unsure of where to go from here.

Just then, I saw Yolana's extravagant birthday party on the massive screen across from me in the mall.

She stood in front of a towering cake, over six feet tall, wearing a luxurious gown studded with rhinestones, eyes closed as she made a wish.

"My wish is that my parents and I can always be together, and that all the sick children in the world recover quickly."

A round of applause erupted from the crowd below. Gifts piled up from the room all the way to the doorway.

My father raised his hand in a grand gesture. "I'm donating 10 million to sick children in my daughter's name!"

The applause grew louder, and the crowd cheered for my father and Yolana.

The three of them stood there, so happy together.

Tears finally welled up in my eyes.

The spectators crowded around the mall, creating a sea of people.

"One of these days, I'll make sure to take my child to thank Ms. Bowen. If it weren't for her donation, my child would have passed away long ago!"

"Absolutely. We'll spend a lifetime showing our gratitude to Ms. Bowen. She's our savior."

Just then, the doctor who had given me the prescription came running after me.

"Hey, we just received a donation for cancer treatment from the wealthiest family. It's a generous, no-strings-attached contribution. You still need treatment. How about I put your name on the list?"

As I looked at her kind eyes, my mother's harsh words resurfaced in my mind.

Even a stranger was willing to lend me a hand, yet my own mother wished I were dead.

"I'll take your silence as a yes. Whatever happens, we can't give up on staying alive!"

At that moment, my phone rang.

My father was asking me to apologize to Yolana and spend the rest of her birthday with her. They promised they wouldn't hold it against me anymore if I did that.

Fine. I'd go, and consider it my last time seeing them.

I hurried over, but they looked at me with disdain.

"What is this? Are you wearing beggar's clothes? Trying to ruin your sister's day on purpose?"

In the end, they tossed a staff uniform at me to wear.

Even though I added another layer to my thin outfit, I still felt cold. But it wasn't just the chill from the air—it was the coldness in my heart.

I walked downstairs, surrounded by guests, feeling completely out of place.

The sound of compliments filled the air.

"Ms. Bowen, you're so beautiful! No wonder you're the apple of your parents' eye!"

"Of course, the richest man only has one precious daughter. They spoil her, hand and foot. I heard they even bought a small asteroid and named it after Ms. Bowen!"

The only daughter.

I lowered my gaze, unable to hold back a bitter laugh. This place was never meant for me. What was I even hoping for?

I turned to leave, but a group of rich young women blocked my path.

"You're the waitress, right? Are you slacking off? Do you want me to tell Ms. Bowen so she can fire you?"

"Who do you think you're glaring at? I'll make sure you regret that!"

They splashed champagne in my face.

I squinted, stepping back to avoid it, but my foot slipped, and I fell into the pool.

I couldn't swim!

I thrashed desperately, trying to stay afloat.

But their laughter grew louder, mocking me.

"Look at the clown! Hurry up and swim to the edge!"

Right then, I heard Yolana's voice from the side. "What are you all doing here?"

"Yolana, your waitress was slacking off, so we thought we'd teach her a lesson."

Yolana smiled, her head held high with an air of superiority.

"Alright, let's go inside. She's just a waitress. After the party, my parents will take care of her."

Cold water flooded my nose and mouth, and I had no strength left to fight. I could only let my tired body sink to the bottom of the pool.

Before I closed my eyes, I could hear my father's voice. "Welcome, everyone, to my precious daughter's birthday party..."

...

After I died, my spirit lingered at home.

I watched my parents talking. "I haven't seen Grace in so long. Her birthday is next month, so let's call her back. She's turning eighteen."

"That ungrateful child. She doesn't even answer the phone. She might as well have died out there."

I really wanted to tell them I was already dead. I had died on a cold winter night. I would never see my eighteenth birthday.

I remembered when I was little, before our family became as wealthy as it was now. My father bought me a limited edition doll, just because I said I liked it. Back then, I dreamed of living the life of a doll—pretty clothes, a big house, and endless love.

Then, my parents became incredibly rich and were suddenly the wealthiest in the country. I got everything I had wanted: a big house, beautiful clothes, and all the love I could have hoped for. But once they decided to adopt Yolana, all of that was no longer for me.

I became a child without a home.

Months passed, and they thought I'd call them back, but no matter how long they waited, they heard nothing. They wanted to go to my school, but each time, Yolana made up an excuse to stop them.

"Russell, why hasn't Grace called us? I checked, and her card is empty. What do you think she's doing now?"

"She's probably with some man, lying around, not doing anything useful."

"Mom, Dad, don't talk like that about Grace. She's just upset, but she'll come back soon. Don't worry. She'll be home in no time."

"Yolana, stop defending her. You've always been sensible, unlike her—she's a waste!"

Today was my birthday. My parents had already bought a cake early in the morning, and my mother had made my favorite dishes, waiting for me to come home.

She kept calling me, but all she heard was the same "unable to connect" message.

My father had custom-ordered a gift for me. It was the same doll I had always loved. But on my birthday, he found that I still hadn't come home.

He was furious and went to the school to find my teachers, only to be told I hadn't attended for a year. The teachers even thought I was an orphan, since no one seemed to care about my disappearance.

Then, he received the list of cancer patients from the hospital. At the top was my name.

My father panicked completely. He ran through ten red lights to get to the hospital.

The doctor looked at him, confused.

"Excuse me, who are you to Grace? That poor girl...She had no money for treatment, not even a pair of winter shoes."

My father's eyes went red, and he rushed forward, grabbing the doctor by the shoulders.

"Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

"She passed away a year ago…"