6
When the video was enlarged, they saw that I was calling my mother, asking if I could borrow 100 dollars.
“It’s all my fault, Grace. I should’ve believed you, but I didn’t… I killed you!” My mother’s voice cracked as she wept, her grief overwhelming her to the point where she passed out.
My father, trembling with anger and sorrow, asked if the school’s security footage near the warehouse could be pulled up.
The footage showed me, struggling to stay on my feet, barely dragging myself as I made my way back. But before I could even reach the door, I collapsed hard on the ground, blood pouring from my body. Meanwhile, just a short distance away, Yolana was happily walking hand–in–hand with my father, who was sending her off to school with a smile.
If only he had noticed, if only he had looked closer–maybe he could’ve seen me.
The footage continued to the day of my death. They saw Yolana open my door and, without a second thought, throw my lifeless body next to a trash bin.
Unable to bear it any longer, my father surged to his feet and struck Yolana, causing her face to be covered in blood. The police quickly intervened, but it was too late.
Too late. Everything was too late.
“I never imagined my beloved adopted daughter would cause me to unknowingly kill my own flesh and blood.” My father’s voice trembled as he looked at the footage. I was being dragged by Yolana, clutching my cherished doll, which she carelessly tossed aside. The janitor, who recognized the doll as mine, had picked it up and placed it back where it belonged,
Time seemed to stretch on forever. Every passing second felt like an eternity, and the weight of that silence was unbearable.
My father whispered to himself, “I killed my own daughter… I killed her.”
Yolana was arrested on suspicion of manslaughter.
It later came to light that she had an inappropriate relationship with my father. My mother, despite knowing of this unusual closeness, kept quiet and stood by my father’s side.
From that point on, my parents‘ health quickly deteriorated.
During their hospital stay, many visitors came–mostly journalists. They were there to ask my parents about the accusations of abandoning me to die.
“Mr. Bowen, do you have anything to say about your daughter?”
“Grace, we’re so sorry… We failed you.‘
+25 BONUS
Chapter 6
My urn was placed beside their hospital beds. My parents cried like children as they stood before it.
The next day, a photo of the richest man crying beside his daughter’s ashes, asking for forgiveness, spread across the internet.
During this time, Lucy Field, my maid, often came to care for my parents. They asked her about the past ten years–years they realized they had no real memories of me.
“She lived such a miserable life… Mr. Bowen, you always said you needed to be strict with Ms. Grace so she could succeed. But I saw her getting sicker and sicker, and yet you never did anything about it. I didn’t want to say anything, but… Over the years, I feared for Ms. Yolana’s safety, since she wasn’t familiar with the area. So I stayed with her. But then I saw…‘
“Saw what? What did you see?” My father’s voice cracked as he demanded answers.
“I was worried she was in danger, so I recorded the whole thing,” Lucy explained before showing them a video recording. The video showed little Yolana speaking to a pair of shabby old folks, who were holding on to her desperately.
“Don’t worry, Mom and Dad. Once I take Grace’s place in this family, I’ll seize everything they have, and make sure they suffer. Then we’ll live happily ever after. Just wait for me.”
The room fell silent after the video ended. But a few minutes later, the silence was broken
my father’s cries. by the deafening sound of
