Probably the transfer confirmation.

I looked toward the other side of the bridge, at the brilliantly lit luxury villa neighborhood.

Their lives must be comfortable, right?

No daily panic over debt. No lying awake wondering how to pay for treatment. No rationing meals, never sure where the next one would come from.

I looked down again—dozens of yards to the water—and felt nothing.

Just relief. Just numbness.

I climbed over the guardrail. In the deserted dead of night, I let go.

The icy lake swallowed me whole.

At the instant I released the railing, WeChat notifications pinged from my pocket, one after another.

But I didn't have the strength to think anymore.

I just wanted to sink. To disappear forever.

"Ellie, what I'm going to say next might surprise you, but everything Mom says is true."

"Our family isn't short on money. Your dad and I own a publicly listed company."

"Your dad wanted to build your character. Make you understand the value of hardship."

"The test is over now. You passed. You're very filial."

"Remember all that money you transferred to us? Twenty thousand total? We've decided to give you twenty million."

"Buy a house, a car, designer bags—spend it however you want."

When I opened my eyes again, everything looked wrong.

I was floating above the bridge. The night wind passed through my body, but I felt nothing.

Below, the river flowed in silence.

No commotion. As if nothing had happened.

Headlights cut through the darkness, approaching fast.

A Maybach. I recognized the logo from the mall where I worked.

The window was half-open. The young man in the passenger seat made me freeze.

Zachary Abbott—the one Dad hadn't shut up about six years ago.

He said sponsoring that mountain orphan was the best thing he'd ever done.

Said he was smart, sensible, had excellent grades.

And the middle-aged man in the back seat, chatting and laughing—

That was my father.

Not the father from my memory, crushed by illness and debt, his brow permanently creased.

His complexion was rosy. His expression relaxed.

He was smiling, patting Zach's shoulder, saying something I couldn't hear.

Zach smiled back. Easy. Natural. Close.

The car sped past, leaving me frozen in the cold air.

I followed.

The Maybach crossed the bridge and pulled into the villa neighborhood I'd envied before I jumped.

It stopped in front of an elegant three-story home.

As Dad and Zach stepped out, the front door opened.

A middle-aged woman emerged.

Elegantly dressed. Every gesture polished, refined.

I stared at the rich lady.

That was my mother.

She wore an easy, happy smile. Warm and natural, she reached up to straighten Zach's collar.

"Chloe, add a squirrel mandarin fish. Zach loves it."

"He got into such a prestigious university—we have to celebrate properly."

Her voice carried clearly. Every word sliced through me.

The three of them walked inside, chatting and laughing.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw the spacious living room. A crystal chandelier. A dining table loaded with exquisite dishes.

They sat down. Raised their glasses. Laughed.

"Zach, you're incredible—worthy of being Mom's good son."

"Getting into such a competitive school! Tell me, what reward do you want? I'll agree to anything."

Dad's laughter followed.

"I told you our Zach would make it. You've made us so proud."

"How about this—before school starts, I'll get you a sports car."

"Pick whatever brand you want—don't you dare try to save us money!"

I stared blankly at the family portrait in the dining room, emotions tangled into knots.

It hit me then: I was the expendable one.

From childhood to adulthood. From being sensible to being obedient. Silently walking every path they'd designed after faking poverty.

Making me an outcast as a kid, too scared to speak up.

Making me hide my illness as an adult, too scared to burden them.

Making me choose death over dragging them down.

So all of it was just... an act they'd constructed on purpose.

And for what? To temper me?

Dinner ended.

Mom picked up her phone and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. She pressed the voice-message button, a faint trace of happiness still lingering on her face.

"Ellie, I'm guessing you're still busy—you haven't seen the voice message I sent."

"It's nothing urgent. I just wanted to let you know."

"Your dad and I are at Lakeside Manor, Building 3. Whenever you get off work, just come straight here."

I watched her quietly and tugged a bitter smile from the corner of my mouth.

I wanted so badly to tell her: Mom, I can never come back.

I sat on the massive crystal chandelier in the living room, silently watching from above.

After dinner, my parents and Zachary were still chatting. The fruit on the table had been replaced twice. The black tea had been refilled more times than I could count.

The conversation drifted from choosing college majors to future career plans.

"Zachary, after you graduate, come straight to the company. Start as your dad's assistant—let him mentor you personally."

"We're family. The company will be yours and the younger generation's eventually."

Mom peeled an apple, her tone gentle as always.

"Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad." Zachary sat up straighter, cheeks flushing pink. "I'll work hard. I won't let your faith in me go to waste!"

"Listen to this kid—'faith.'" Dad chuckled and waved his hand, voice warm with affection.

"Once you're properly settled, you should start thinking about marriage too."

"A family like ours doesn't need perfect social standing, but we have to know their background. Good character. And sensible."

Mom and Dad exchanged a knowing look, then turned their gaze gently back to Zachary.

His face went redder.

He lowered his head but didn't refuse.

As if he'd silently accepted whatever match they were hinting at.

Then again, he was an orphan—of course he longed for a home where he truly belonged.

I watched the three of them calmly, and slowly, a smile crept onto my face.

Zachary Abbott—he really was my type.

Tall. Fair-skinned and clean-cut, with a scholarly air about him.

And more importantly, every interaction we'd had proved his character was beyond reproach.

The last time we met, some old man tried to take advantage of me. Zachary rushed over without hesitation to confront him.

Even when it landed us both at the police station, he didn't show a hint of regret.

Afterward, he'd comforted me and bought me milk tea.

Watching the warm scene beneath the lights, an uncontrollable thought surfaced—illusory, aching.

If I hadn't gotten sick. Or if the illness had come just a little later.

They'd probably planned my whole life out, hadn't they?

Join the company. End up with Zachary.

Get married. Live close by. Help run the business. Have a child.

On weekends, the family of five would gather for dinner in this spacious villa while the kids played in the garden.

Such a blissful picture—delicate as a dream.

And cold reality had smashed it to pieces.

A self-mocking smile escaped me. I was fully aware that I was already dead.

Dead in that freezing lake. Dead on the road of paying off their debts.

Their plans have nothing to do with me anymore.

And that fantasy just now was only a wishful hope that could never be realized.

At 3:00 a.m., the living room finally fell quiet.

Zach returned to his room on the second floor.

The one next to his—that should be the one prepared for me, right?

The decorating style was exactly my taste.

And all those cartoon characters I'd mentioned from childhood to adulthood had become plush toys.

They surrounded the entire bed, waiting quietly.

Mom picked up her phone, brows furrowed slightly, and sent me another voice message.

"Ellie, why haven't you replied yet?"

"You're not answering your phone either—are you mad at Mom and Dad?"

Her tone softened, a little helpless. "Mom and Dad are doing this for your own good."

"Since you were little, we made you feel like things were hard at home because we wanted you to understand the value of hardship, so you'd properly cherish the life you have now."

"But it's okay. After you wake up, reply to Mom, okay?"

She put down her phone and sighed.

"This kid—she used to be so sensible. Why is she being so stubborn this time?"

Dad leaned back on the couch and rubbed between his eyebrows.

"I thought she'd really grown up and could understand our good intentions. Looks like we still haven't disciplined her enough."

At 10:00 a.m., Mom checked her phone again.

My chat window was still silent.

She dialed several calls in a row. All unanswered.

"That's not right. Ellie's never been like this."

She was uneasy.

"What else could it be?" Dad's face darkened. "Her wings have hardened!"

"With twenty million in hand, she probably thinks the bitter days are over and the sweet days have come—too busy enjoying herself to bother!"

"No way, right?"

Mom hesitated and started flipping through her contacts.

She called my team lead at the company.

"Hello, is this Gabriel? I'm Eleanor Abbott's mom. Would it be convenient to let her answer the phone?"

Gabriel gave a bitter smile. "She didn't come in today, and she didn't ask for leave. We've been wondering too. Can't get through no matter how many times we call."

After hanging up, Mom's expression turned ugly.

She and Dad exchanged a look; suspicion and disappointment spread through the air.

"Didn't go to work?"

Dad sneered, confirming his own guess.

"Looks like she was dazzled by that twenty million and doesn't even want her job anymore. She really is my good daughter!"