Wendy Lloyd's first love, Hudson Clark, treats me like a walking blood bank. Because of that, I end up dying in the rented apartment Wendy has given to me out of contemptuous pity.

Today is the third day of my death. My six-year-old son, Terry Heath, finally realizes that something is wrong with me.

When he accidentally cuts his finger from playing with his toys, I don't coax him at all.

When he tears open a pack of cookies and feeds one to me, I don't stop him at all.

When he lies in my arms and grips me by the hem of my shirt while calling out to me softly, I don't respond to him at all.

Feeling rather uneasy, Terry finds my phone and calls Wendy.

"Mommy, why is Daddy still asleep?"

Wendy responds by sending a photo of her and Hudson enjoying a holiday feast together. She then says coldly, "He's just asleep, not dead. Today is Christmas Eve, so I'm very busy right now.

"Tell that arrogant father of yours that he's only free to visit me whenever he's ready to acknowledge his mistakes."

After that, the call ends. Terry is left feeling stunned for a long time.

Finally, he digs out the last cookie from the trash can and snaps it in half. Then, he feeds it to me again.

"Daddy, let's eat."

The man on the bed didn't react, but my son, Terry Heath, had gotten used to it.

He carefully placed the biscuit next to the pillow, then quickly devoured his share.

He patted his stomach, still hungry.

Terry instinctively glanced at the biscuit no one had eaten, then made his way to the kitchen and drank a large glass of cold water.

My soul floated in the air. As I watched the scene below, my heart ached.

Was this really my son? The one who used to complain about being hungry if dinner was even a little late?

How did he change so much in just three days after I died?

Suddenly, my phone lit up, revealing a family photo as the wallpaper.

In the cozy room, Wendy Lloyd had her arms around me as I lay half-asleep, laughing brightly with Terry for the camera. Their faces had a striking resemblance and bore the same cheerful expression.

That day, I had still been asleep when Wendy and Terry quietly tiptoed into the room.

Wendy whispered, "Terry, Daddy's still sleeping in. Let's go wake him up."

Terry nodded, grinning like a mischievous kitten. "Okay, Mommy."

With a raised brow, Wendy pulled out a delicate feather pen from behind her and gently tickled my nose, one swipe, then another, until I couldn't hold back a sneeze.

Annoyed, I sat up and grabbed a pillow to throw at her. "Wendy!"

She quickly pulled Terry in front of her like a shield. "Terry, help me stop Daddy!"

A chaotic scene followed.

The warm scene in the photo triggered Terry's memories. His eyes lit up as he stared at the feather. "Mommy used to wake Daddy up like this."

He put the phone down and hurried over to the bed. "Daddy, I know how to wake you up now. I'm going to bring the feather back from our old home."

Watching Terry leave confidently, I froze for a moment, then instinctively reached for his shoes on the floor to help him put them on.

But my hand passed right through the air.

Right. I forgot.

I was dead. I couldn't take care of Terry anymore.

After leaving home, I followed Terry to the Lloyd residence.

It was Christmas Eve, so the streets were filled with the sounds of fireworks. The air buzzed with the joy of families reuniting, making it almost overwhelming.

In front of the grand and opulent Lloyd residence, a graceful woman was throwing snowballs in the yard with a six-year-old girl.

The woman's soft voice could be heard from time to time. "Be careful. Don't fall."

Wendy's first love, Hudson Clark, stood nearby, his eyes filled with contentment as he smiled.

What a picture-perfect, happy family.

As Terry watched the scene through the fence, he felt a wave of discomfort wash over him.

Wendy used to have snowball fights with him every Christmas Eve.

He wiped his eyes quickly and stood on his toes to ring the doorbell.

Soon, someone came to open the door. It wasn't Wendy, but Hudson. "What are you doing here?"

The moment he saw Terry, the smile on his face froze, replaced by wariness.

Hudson turned and glanced at Wendy. Noticing that she was unaware of Terry's arrival, he felt a sense of relief.

When he turned back, his face was filled with nothing but disdain. "Did that shameless father of yours send you here? Didn't he tell you? This isn't your home anymore. Get lost, you little bastard."

Terry flinched at Hudson's malice, and his eyes quickly turned red. "You're lying! Daddy isn't shameless! You're the evil one! I want to see Mommy!"

He glared at Hudson like an angry calf ready to charge.

Hudson scoffed. When no one was looking, he shoved Terry hard.

Terry was caught off guard. His forehead slammed into the iron gate with a sharp sound.

Wendy's heart skipped a beat as she asked, "Who's out there?"

Hudson quickly covered Terry's mouth and offered an excuse. "No one. Just a cat. It's cold. You should take Gracie inside."

Once Wendy left, he immediately pinched Terry with a cruel look in his eyes. "You little bastard. You're just like your father, born to be a thorn in my side."

Terry struggled. Blood mixed with tears dripped down his face.

Hudson spat on Terry, then shoved him into the snow. "Disgusting."

Terry pushed himself up and continued shouting, "You're the disgusting one! Evil monster! I want to see Mommy! Let me see her!"

Hudson sneered, then kicked the dog door in the gate with his custom-made pointed shoes. His eyes gleamed with amusement. "If you crawl through this dog door, I'll take you to see your mom. How does that sound?"

I stood there, glaring at Hudson. My eyes nearly bled with rage.

How dare he? How dare he humiliate my child like this?

The pain and fury almost consumed my mind.

I waved my hands frantically at Terry, trying to get him to refuse.

I was dead now. I didn't need him to do this for me. I just wanted him to go home.

Terry raised his head, his gaze drifting past me to the lively villa in the distance. "Do you actually mean that?"

Hudson paused for a moment, then bent over laughing, clearly enjoying the situation. "Of course."

Terry bit his lip. Trembling, he bent down and stiffly crawled through the dog door.

As he crawled, he whispered to himself, "I'm okay. I won't cry. I'm going to wake Daddy up."

But tears still flowed down his face, wetting the collar of his shirt.

Hudson pulled out his phone and recorded the scene. The excitement and smugness in his eyes were barely contained.

"What a good boy, Terry. You're Elijah Heath's son through and through—a lowlife from the day you were born. Come on, bark like a dog for me. Give me a little entertainment."

Just as he was enjoying himself, a woman's voice suddenly came from behind, her tone unreadable. "What are you doing?"

Panicked, Hudson quickly threw his phone to the ground and helped Terry up, even brushing the dirt off him.

"It's nothing. Terry came to see you. I was just playing with him for a bit."

"Really?"

Wendy found it strange, but Hudson quickly shifted her focus. "Wendy, it's so cold out here. Let's take Terry inside. We don't want him to catch a cold."

Hudson frowned, his face filled with concern.

Terry raised his head to reveal the wound on his face, hoping to see some sympathy on Wendy's face.

He hoped she would hold him and comfort him like she used to.

But Wendy only gave the wound on his head a brief glance. Her gaze faltered for a split second, flickering with an indescribable rage.

"Is this how Elijah plays the father? It was one thing when he used you to win favor before, but now he's actually resorting to this pathetic act? Does he think this will make me feel sorry for you? Hmph! He's dreaming."

She then turned to Hudson. Her voice dripped with sympathy as she said, "Hudson, you're just too kind. That's why people keep using you."

At Wendy's words, both Terry and I froze.

Especially Terry. He parted his lips, and tears began to fall uncontrollably. "Mommy…"

Perhaps those words stirred something in her. Her brows furrowed, and her gaze turned colder than the snowstorm outside.

"Go ahead. What's your goal this time? Money or a house?" she asked.

Terry's hand, hanging at his side, clenched into a fist, but he didn't dare to argue.

Once, he had told Wendy that Hudson bullied him.

But with just a few words, Hudson made Wendy believe that I had manipulated Terry into accusing him because I was jealous of how well she treated Hudson.

That time, Wendy locked me in the basement for a whole week. Terry had nightmares for a week straight.

At that thought, Terry couldn't help but shudder. He lowered his head and whispered, "Mommy, I can't wake Daddy up. Can you give me your feather pen?"

Wendy's heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively asked, "What do you mean, you can't wake him? Didn't he just donate 400 ml of blood—"

"Wendy!" Hudson interrupted her just in time.

Wendy turned, her face full of surprise. "What's wrong?"

Sensing her confused gaze, Hudson stiffened and awkwardly changed the subject. "Today's Christmas Eve. If Terry stays out too late, Elijah will definitely worry. It's just a feather pen. Just give it to him. Don't go ruining their Christmas."

Sure enough, Wendy's attention was quickly diverted, and her expression softened. "Hudson, you're still so kind. In that case, Terry, come with me."

The group entered the villa. Under the bright lights, Terry's injured face looked even worse.

Hudson's daughter, Gracie Clark, approached and looked Terry up and down, then asked curiously, "Mommy Wendy, who's this? A beggar? He's so dirty."

Her innocent words made Terry's face flush with embarrassment.

He looked at Wendy weakly, hoping she would explain, but she seemed to be triggered.

She glanced at Terry with disgust. "Is this how your dad taught you to play the pity card? Do you think if you make yourself look miserable, I'll feel sorry for you? How pathetic!"

As Wendy spoke, the redness on Terry's face faded, leaving behind a pale, fragile expression.

He thought that Wendy really didn't love him anymore.

He wiped the tears from his face. By the time he raised his head, Wendy had already gone upstairs.

Only Hudson remained. He looked at Terry with a smug gaze full of fake sympathy. "Tsk, tsk, how pitiful. Even your mom doesn't want you. Why don't you call me 'Dad', and I'll let you stay to be my little pet dog? How's that sound?"

"Dream on!"

Terry clenched his fists tightly. His eyes were red, and his whole body trembled with anger.

"You're not my dad. I only have one dad, and his name is Elijah Heath, not you! Don't get too smug. When Daddy wakes up, he'll make you pay for this!"

Terry gritted his teeth, his voice filled with unwavering determination.

But my heart ached so much that it felt like I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't bear to think of how devastated he would be when he realized I would never wake up.

How could he face the storms ahead? He was only six.

Tears blurred my vision.

Hudson was now completely enraged. Suddenly, he had an idea.

Seeing that Wendy was coming downstairs, he patted his pocket with a frantic expression. "Where's my phone? It's missing!"

Hudson hastily checked his pockets. Finally, his gaze landed on Terry. A wicked smile curled at his lips. "Terry, did you steal my phone?"

Terry was startled and immediately denied it. "I didn't! Your phone was—"

The rest of his words were cut off as a slap landed across his face.

Wendy held a feather pen in one hand and pointed at Terry's bruised face with the other. Her gaze was filled with disappointment. "I knew you were up to no good! It was bad enough when your dad coached you into accusing Hudson, but now you have the nerve to steal from him? How did I end up with a son like you?"