Mary had worked in our house for many years. She knew both Dad's and my tempers and tried to persuade him softly. "Mr. Wade, Ms. Wade is still young. If you talk to her properly, she'll understand."

Dad sneered. "Stop making excuses for her. I don't care how stubborn she is. I'll crush that attitude out of her."

I really was stubborn. I never backed down or begged for mercy, even when I died. They were animals who deserved to die horribly, and I would never let them look down on me.

By the third day I was gone, my teacher, Ms. Anne Taylor, called to ask why I hadn't come to school. She also told Dad that the incident earlier had been fully investigated and confirmed that I hadn't thrown the first punch. The other student had insulted my deceased mother first.

Back then, my explanation only earned me a slap from Dad. He kicked me hard and screamed, "Your mother's been dead for ten years, and you're still hiding behind her. Why don't you just go die?"

I hit my head on the table, and blood immediately poured from my nose. I heard Ms. Taylor scream, then the other parent yelled, "No wonder she's such trash. Now I see why. There was no mother to raise her! Don't think this is over. She owes my kid an apology!"

They forced me to kneel, but I kept my mouth shut. Dad slapped me over and over, grabbing my head and slamming it down.

In the end, the other parent had enough and told him to forget it. Rain poured down that day. I was told to kneel outside the front door as punishment. I refused, and the moment he turned away, I got up and ran.

Sheila accused me of running off with some man. In a fit of rage, Dad forced me to kneel and slam my head against the floor again and again.

He especially liked forcing me to kneel in public, as if doing so could grind away my dignity and make me obedient.

I didn't care about dignity. I only wanted justice.

Ms. Taylor said, "Mr. Wade, we truly misunderstood Raena. The matter has been cleared up, and the other party is willing to apologize. Could we—"

"No need," Dad said coldly. "If she hadn't been so defiant all the time, would anyone have believed her? This is what she deserves—a lesson. Ms. Taylor, don't show her any kindness. She's beneath it."

I couldn't help but laugh at the way my father described me.

Ms. Taylor kept trying to talk some sense into him, then gave up and hung up.

Dad fiddled with the bone sculpture in his hand, and for once, he made a call to me.

The call didn't go through. He cursed me for being ungrateful, then sent a text. Among the string of insults, the last line stood out. "Your mom's birthday is in two days. If you're going to play dead, don't bother coming back for the rest of your life."

Then I wouldn't go back. She was never my mother.

Mary looked worried. "Mr. Wade, could something have happened to Ms. Wade? It's been over 48 hours already. Maybe we should call the police."

"Call the police for what?" Dad snorted. "She's not embarrassed, but I am. Does she think I'm going to give in like this? Not a chance. If she has the guts, she can stay gone forever. I'd be glad to be rid of the burden."

Mary hesitated, then let out a quiet sigh.

At Sheila's birthday banquet, Dad beamed with pride as he showed the bone sculpture to his friends. He boasted without batting an eyelid, "This was made from the femur of an 18‑year‑old girl. Top quality, straight from Khastan. You don't see something like this every day."

The people around him murmured in admiration. Someone suddenly asked, "Richie, come to think of it, your daughter should be 18 this year, right? Why didn't you celebrate her birthday?"

Dad's hand tightened around the bone sculpture. His eyes went blank for a split second before he waved it off. "Don't mention that ingrate. She'll be better off dead."

That night, Dad was clearly distracted. He kept lifting his phone, wavering over whether to call me at all.

Seeing this, Sheila immediately broke down in tears. "In the end, you still care more about your own daughter. I'm just an outsider here. I've been married into this family for years, and they still whisper behind my back, calling me a homewrecker. She ran off right before my birthday on purpose, just to make me look like a fool."

Dad hurried to calm her down, then had every one of my things thrown into the trash, as if I were trash myself.

On the seventh day after I disappeared, the city was hit by an unprecedented typhoon. The streets were littered with fallen trees, and flooded cars were abandoned everywhere.

Sheila threw a party at home that day, bringing in a swarm of guests. Dad hovered among them, holding someone else's child, teasing them, and smiling with a jealous pride he would never show me.

He liked children. He just didn't like me.

The torrential rain eventually washed my body out. Someone found it and called the police. The forensic team pieced my remains back together, but my left lower leg was missing.

Based on the birthmark on my arm, the police cross-checked every missing person in the city and released a public notice asking for identification.

Mary held the notice tightly, her face filled with worry. "Mr. Wade, Ms. Wade has a birthmark like this too. We should go check."

Dad's face darkened over the photo of the birthmark.

Before he could say a word, Sheila cut in. "Mary, stay quiet if you don't know the truth. You see a dead body and immediately claim it's Raena's. How much did she pay you to pull this stunt?"

Mary's face turned pale. "I'm just worried about Ms. Wade. She's still young."

"Young? What do you mean, young?" Sheila snapped. "Hasn't she done enough damage already? Mary, you've been with this family for years. Raena is childish, but don't tell me you're childish too? If she's already like this now, who knows what she might be capable of later? She could hurt someone or even set a house on fire, and you're helping her lie. That ingrate was never raised right, and now she even knows how to play the victim."

After being married to Dad for so many years, Sheila knew exactly how to manipulate him.

Sure enough, Dad's expression hardened. He slammed his hand on the table and roared, "Mary, stop speaking up for that ingrate. She's been rotten since she was a child. I fed her, clothed her, and raised her. Do I owe her anything? It's one thing to be ungrateful, but she dares to defy me at every turn. This time, unless she kneels and apologizes, I will never forgive her."

He didn't care about where I'd run to or if I were dead or alive. All he wanted was for me to admit I was wrong, but I refused. I hadn't done anything wrong.

Sheila wore a smug smile. Dressed to the nines, she announced that she was heading out to meet her friends. As soon as she turned away, she stepped straight into William's arms and complained, "That little bitch really is nothing but trouble. She even got washed out. I should have burned her body from the beginning. What if she gets identified? What if it leads back to us?"

"Relax," William said, soothing her. "I cleaned everything up. No one will find out. Without evidence, it will be a cold case. Besides, Richard hates that daughter of his so much. Even if he finds out she is dead, he will not care that much. Once things die down, we can figure out how to get rid of that idiot."

He was right. Even if Dad knew I was dead, he wouldn't care.

Whenever Dad struck me at Sheila's urging, forcing me to my knees, I could feel the full weight of his contempt. As a child, I had seen him as the greatest man alive. Now, I saw only a fool.

Dad couldn't see Sheila's ugly, vicious nature at all. Instead, he used every possible excuse to criticize and suppress me, treating me like an enemy. In his eyes, I was the monster that had destroyed his family's so-called harmony.

For some reason, a strange sense of satisfaction rose in my chest. I suddenly wanted to see his expression when he finally learned the truth.

However, it didn't matter. He would find out eventually.

Several days passed after the body identification notice was released, but there were no leads. The police then began checking nearby schools. It didn't take long for them to trace things back to my school. They learned that I had not shown up for a long time, and that my age and build closely matched those of the deceased.

The police called Dad and asked about my situation. He answered a few questions before growing impatient. "Why are you asking all this? Did that ingrate cause trouble again?"

"We suspect that the recently deceased may be your daughter," the officer said. "Do you know where she is right now?"

"That's impossible. You've got it wrong," Dad replied casually. "She just ran away from home. How could she be dead? You cops are really something. Just because my daughter is 18, you think the dead one must be her? That ingrate probably ran off to fool around with who knows who. If she were that easy to kill, she would have died a long time ago."

"According to her teachers, your daughter has been absent from school for over a week, which matches the estimated time of death," the officer said calmly. "Her classmates also mentioned that she has a similar birthmark on her arm. You should confirm it."

"I already told you, you've got the wrong person. It can't be her."

Dad let out a cold laugh and glanced at the caller ID. "What, did Raena ask you to call me? She didn't get enough excitement from running away, so now she's trying to play dead? Fine. Pass this message to her. If she wants to die, then let her. I'll pretend I never had a daughter. At least she won't keep causing me trouble."

He hung up without a second thought.

Without wasting a moment, the police showed up at the house with their badges and told him to come identify the body.

Dad squinted at the badges for a long moment before reluctantly believing them. However, he still refused to go.

"I already told you that ingrate isn't dead. She's perfectly fine. What's your problem? I've said it's not her, so why are you showing up at my door? I get it now—you're here to mediate, right? Even mediation comes with so many tricks these days. Fine, tell her this for me. As long as she doesn't come back and admit her mistakes, I won't care about her for a single day. She's been spoiled rotten her whole life."

Sheila cut in from the side. "She's getting way out of line, bringing up death like this. We have a business to run. Even if it doesn't bother you, it sure bothers us."

"Based on the facial reconstruction, the deceased closely resembles your daughter," the officer said sternly. "All it takes is a DNA test to confirm her identity. You could even call her yourself right now. This is about her safety. Are you really refusing to confirm it?"

Dad frowned. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. At last, he waved his hand with exasperation. "Fine, fine. You people sure love turning nothing into a spectacle. I'll go with you. Are you happy now?"

Even in the morgue, he acted as if nothing mattered. It wasn't until the white sheet was pulled away, revealing my mangled, twisted face, that he froze in place. A storm of shock swept through his eyes.