Too Late, Dad: I'm Dead Because You Trusted Her

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.