Behind me, Dad's voice floated over lazily. "Hey, don't run out of frame. There aren't any cameras over there…"

The wind was too loud, and my head was foggy. I didn't catch what he said at all. All I heard was the sound of urgent footsteps coming up fast behind me.

I ran all the way to the edge of the cliff. Loose gravel crumbled under my sneakers and rattled down into a bottomless black void. Behind me were the bloody jaws of the wolves. Several dark figures were already crouched low, ready to pounce.

I glanced back. The whole pack was behind me now, which meant Dad was safe. I hurled the branch in my hand hard at the wolves, then squeezed my eyes shut and jumped.

As I hurtled through the air, there was nothing in my ears but the roar of the wind. The last thought that flashed through my mind was that at least Dad was safe. If this jump was all it took for him to live, then it was worth it.

…

When I opened my eyes again, my body felt light as a feather.

I looked down and saw… another me, lying twisted among the rocks. One leg was bent at a grotesque angle, and my school uniform had been shredded by branches.

Blood soaked into the stream beneath me, turning the water before the current slowly washed it away.

Was I dead? Was this what the world looked like after one died?

Before I could even process the whole thing, a deafening roar exploded from the top of the cliff. Blinding white searchlights snapped on, turning the mountaintop bright as day.

I floated upward for a closer look and was dumbfounded.

A helicopter was slowly descending. Its spinning blades whipped the trees so hard they bent and shook. A group of people in camouflage uniforms rushed out.

The "vicious wolves" that had wanted to tear me apart just moments ago were suddenly having their heads pulled off.

Under the fake wolf heads were people in motion-capture suits, plus a few highly trained shepherd dogs that were now lying on the ground, wagging their tails like happy pets.

"Cut! Perfect!"

Dad stepped out from between the rocks, casually brushing dirt off his clothes and straightening his rumpled collar. There was no trace of his earlier madness and terror.

The director hurried over with a flattering smile, offering him a glass of champagne. "Mr. Locke, that performance was top-tier. The livestream just broke 300 million views! Everyone's calling this the family drama of the year!"

Dad took the champagne, raised it slightly toward the camera, and took an elegant sip. On his face was the expression I knew best—that calm smile that made it clear everything was under control.

"Emma's acting was way too real," he said with a chuckle. "I almost bought it myself. That final jump was especially full of emotion."

He turned toward the edge of the cliff and shouted, "Okay, Emma, you can stop hiding now! The props team has already packed up, and the holograms are off. Come on up. I had them get your favorite black forest cake ready!"

I hovered in midair, staring at that blinding smile on his face. All I felt was absurdity. Utter absurdity.

So, there were no loan sharks, no bankruptcy, and no threats. Even the wolves were fake.

The crew started taking apart the set, hauling all those so-called dangerous props back onto the helicopter.

Someone asked in a low voice, "Mr. Smith, why isn't Ms. Locke back yet? I just saw her jump off the cliff. Is she…"

Dad waved a hand, cutting him off with an easy, confident look. "Relax. There's a whole layer of safety nets and air cushions down there. I just saw the crew go down. Emma is definitely hiding down there waiting for me to go praise her. It's one of her little tricks to make me feel bad for her."

He turned back to the camera, to the countless viewers still watching the livestream, and said, "Kids these days are just too soft. If you don't give them a real lesson once in a while, they'll never grow up. See how we managed to force out her potential this time?"

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Everyone was celebrating the "survival challenge" ending in a perfect success; everyone but me, who was left drifting in the freezing wind.

I stared down at my lifeless body on the ground, no longer feeling anything.

…

The helicopter slowly rose into the air, carrying the jubilant people toward the luxury camp at the foot of the mountain.

Some invisible force tugged at me, pulling my weightless self to hover beside Dad.

He lounged in a leather seat. Next to him sat his girlfriend, Alice Ford, who was also the producer of this show. She was holding up an iPad for him, grinning so hard that all her teeth were on display.

"Terence, you're unbelievable! The whole internet's calling you a 'hardcore tough-love dad' right now. They're all saying you're tough on your kid because you care. Our company's stock price is already up five points in after-hours trading!"

Dad wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. "Of course. Who do you think wrote the script? Viewers eat this 'rich kid thrown to the wolves' storyline up. Emma is usually such a timid little thing—there's no drama at all. If I don't push her to the brink, how's she ever gonna learn how cruel the real world is?"

Alice snuggled into his chest and said coyly, "Only you could go that far. I saw how white Emma's face went when she jumped earlier. I actually felt bad for her."

"What's there to feel bad about?" Dad took a sip of his drink, looking unbothered. "She's my daughter. If she's scared of a little staged danger, how's she going to take over my company someday? Besides, I had everything arranged.

"We stacked three layers of imported landing cushions at the bottom of the cliff. They're softer than her bed at home. There's no way she'd get hurt."

I floated above their heads, staring at Dad's self-righteous expression.

Just three days earlier, he'd suddenly burst into my school and dragged me straight out of class. He'd reeked of alcohol; his clothes had been torn, and there'd been bruises on his face.

"Emma, it's over. Everything's over! The company's bankrupt, and I'm in debt to loan sharks. They're going to kill me to collect!" he'd cried.

He'd bawled like a child and even dropped to his knees in front of me.

I'd been stunned. All my life, Dad had been the high-and-mighty CEO. I'd never seen him look so pathetic.

And so, I hadn't even thought twice. I'd shoved the 5,000 dollars I had saved into his hands. But all he'd done was grab me and shove me into a beat-up old van, driving us deep into the mountains.

For the next three days, we'd survived on wild fruit and dirty water. To make him have more of the moldy bread I had in my bag, I'd lied and said I wasn't hungry, then secretly picked at tree bark to fill my stomach.

Thorns had torn my hands open, and the soles of my feet had been covered in blisters. However, I hadn't made a sound.

Why? It was because Dad had said, "Emma, you're all I have left now."

I was all he had left.

I was a coward. I screamed when I saw cockroaches. However, to save him, I'd been willing to gamble with my life. And for what?

All of this was just for his company's stock price, his trending numbers, and to stroke his ego as some so-called "parenting expert". To him, those moments I'd spent hovering at the edge of death and struggling to survive were nothing more than "emotionally rich" footage.

In his eyes, I wasn't even a person.

…

The helicopter landed on the lawn of a mountain resort hotel.

The place blazed with light; the victory banquet was already set. The long table was piled high with lobster, steak, red wine, and the black forest cake that was supposedly my favorite.

I didn't actually like black forest cake. Strawberry mousse was my favorite. Mom used to make it for me all the time, back when she was alive.

After she died, Dad never bothered to remember what I liked ever again.

Dad remembered that Alice wouldn't touch cilantro and that she loved half-baked cheesecake. Yet, somehow, he never remembered that I was allergic to chocolate.

The moment he stepped off the helicopter, a swarm of reporters and streamers surrounded him. The camera flashes that exploded stabbed at my eyes until they hurt.

"Mr. Locke, what was your original intention in designing this segment?"

"Mr. Locke, any comments on the people online saying this kind of 'death education' is way too extreme?"

Dad straightened his suit. There was a perfectly practiced smile on his face. "Today's young people just can't handle pressure. I did this so Emma would understand that a person's potential only explodes when you're pushed to the edge.

"Look at her—she ended up doing great, didn't she? She overcame her fear to protect her family. That's what growth looks like."

Thunderous applause broke out around him. Meanwhile, the livestream comments went wild.

[Mr. Locke is absolutely right! Sheltered girls like her need to be toughened up like this!]

[I'm actually crying. That final look in Emma's eyes was so determined. She's a true daughter of the Locke family!]

[This is what a father's love is like. Mr. Locke went all in just to teach his daughter a valuable lesson.]

I floated in front of the screen, reading the comments like they were some kind of sick joke.

A father's love? If that was what it was, then it had been heavy enough to crush and kill.

After working the crowd for a while, Dad finally took his seat at the head of the table. He cut off a piece of rare steak and slowly chewed it. Red juice ran down the corner of his mouth, exactly like the blood that splashed when my head hit the rocks.

"Why isn't Emma back yet?" He checked his watch and frowned. "It's been half an hour. Even if she walked back up, she should be here by now."

The director was next to him, gnawing on a drumstick as he mumbled, "She's probably still down there throwing a tantrum. Girls her age… She was bound to feel embarrassed after realizing she's been tricked. Throwing a little fit is normal."

Alice chimed in, "He's right. Emma has always been proud too. She's probably hiding in some corner right now, crying her eyes out and waiting for you to comfort her."

Dad gave a cold snort and slammed his cutlery down on the table. "Comfort her? The more she's babied, the more spoiled she gets! She's been coddled rotten and has no sense of the bigger picture at all. This is a celebration banquet, and so many of her elders are watching. How dare she give me attitude?"

He pulled out his phone and dialed my number. His screen was still mirrored on the giant display, so everyone in the hall held their breath, waiting to witness this touching father-daughter reunion.

The phone rang a few times.

"Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently unavailable…" The mechanical female voice echoed through the banquet hall.

Dad's expression darkened. "Fantastic. She even dared to turn her phone off."

He stood up and yelled at the director, "Send people down to find her! Tell her that if she's not standing in front of me in ten minutes, I'm cutting off her allowance next month. She can go get a job and pay her own tuition!"

I drifted in front of him, watching him lose his temper.

I wanted to tell him that he could stop threatening me. The dead didn't need an allowance, after all.

…

The director didn't dare drag his feet. He immediately grabbed his walkie-talkie and contacted the search and rescue team near the bottom of the cliff where I'd jumped.

"John, John? Quit messing around and get Ms. Locke back up here! Mr. Locke is pissed!"

All he got in response was a burst of static.

After a long moment, a broken, choppy voice finally came through. "Mr. Smith, we've searched all around down here… Ms. Locke is nowhere to be found."

"What do you mean, she's nowhere to be found?" The director panicked. "Weren't there three safety air cushions down there? What, did she suddenly sprout wings and fly away?"