Chapter 5

"I failed as a father."

My father's voice was cold.

"I can't believe I raised a daughter like you."

Then he made his decision.

"From tonight on, Gertrude Moretti is no longer part of this family."

"I have only one daughter now."

"Adela."

He raised his voice into the phone.

"Gertrude! Did you hear me?"

He waited for an answer.

But I couldn't give him one.

The killer had already cut my throat.

My body convulsed uncontrollably.

After a long silence, my father sighed.

"Gertrude, you've truly disappointed us."

The killer raised the rusted blade again.

I no longer had the strength to struggle.

Tears mixed with blood on my face.

As my consciousness faded, there was only one thing left I could do.

I swallowed the small recording tracker I'd been wearing around my wrist.

If I had to die, at least let my death mean something.

Let the evidence help catch the killer who had escaped justice for more than a decade.

Let the families of his victims finally get some kind of closure.

One month later.

The Moretti family held a massive press event to celebrate Adela's survival.

Politicians, reporters, foundation donors, and several of the family's legitimate business partners filled the hall.

Adela stood between my parents in an ivory dress.

Perfect makeup.

Perfect smile.

When the cameras turned toward her, she lifted her chin slightly.

Online, praise flooded in.

"The Morettis moved an entire security team to protect their adopted daughter. That's incredible."

"Her biological father was a murderer, yet they still took her in and gave her a future. The Moretti Foundation really does practice what it preaches."

"Whatever people say about that family, no one can deny how much they love Adela."

My parents' smiles grew brighter with every compliment.

The way they looked at Adela became even softer.

This was exactly what they had always wanted.

A respectable public image.

A perfect adopted daughter.

And a story the world admired.

During a break between interviews, my mother checked her phone again.

Her brows drew together.

"Gertrude is unbelievable."

"We said a few harsh things to her, and now she's throwing a tantrum."

She checked the screen again.

"She blocked us. She hasn't answered anyone for a month."

My father's expression turned cold.

"We spoiled her."

"Ever since she lost the use of her legs, we felt guilty, so we tolerated everything."

"That's why she became like this."

He adjusted his cuff links.

"She knows we feel guilty. She thinks that if she ignores us long enough, we'll eventually go crawling back to her."

His voice hardened.

"Fine."

"Let her keep playing."

"I'd like to see how long she lasts without the Moretti staff taking care of her."

My mother nodded.

"Exactly."

"Once she's hungry enough and realizes there's no one there to help her eat, bathe, or even get out of bed, she'll understand how ridiculous she's being."

I stood beside them.

Or rather, what remained of me did.

For a month, my ghost had listened to every word.

Strangely, I didn't even feel hurt anymore.

Adela hurried over, lifting the hem of her ivory dress.

"Mom, Dad."

Her voice was sweet.

"My livestream is about to start."

"I want everyone to know what incredible parents you are."

My mother's irritation disappeared instantly.

She smiled and carefully fixed a strand of Adela's hair.

My father gave her shoulder an affectionate pat.

Together, they walked her back toward the cameras.

The livestream began.

Comments flooded across the screen.

Adela smiled as she told everyone how my parents had stayed beside her throughout that entire terrifying night.

How they hadn't left her alone for even a minute.

How the Moretti guards had surrounded her around the clock.

Then one comment suddenly shot to the top of the screen.

"Wait. Don't the Morettis have a biological daughter too?"

Another followed almost immediately.

"If everyone was protecting Adela that night, who was protecting their real daughter?"

The smiles on my parents' faces froze.