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?"

"The cushion… There's no one on it." The voice on the other end was shaking. "And… we found a shoe next to it."

The director froze for a second and instinctively looked over at Dad.

Dad sat there. His expression was dark as he drank in sullen silence. When he heard John's words, he impatiently snatched the walkie-talkie.

"What's so shocking about a damn shoe? Emma must've tossed it there on purpose to freak me out! That brat. Does she think she can play mind games with me because I tricked her once?"

He yelled into the walkie-talkie, "Keep looking! Widen the search! Even if she dug a hole and buried herself there, you're digging her out for me!"

He slammed the walkie-talkie down and angrily loosened his tie.

"Kids these days are so cunning. Look at Emma, even taking off her shoes just to get me worked up." He grumbled to Alice, "This is what happens when you're too soft on them. When she gets back, I'm grounding her for a month."

Alice rubbed his back, trying to calm him down. She said, "Emma's really too much. She's practically an adult, yet she's still playing hide-and-seek like a child. Didn't she stop to think about how exhausted everyone is?"

The mood in the livestream chat started to shift, too.

[This daughter is way out of line. Her dad went to all this trouble to teach her a lesson, and she's throwing a tantrum?]

[Exactly. She's too bratty for my liking. It's just a reality show. Does she really have to disappear like this?]

[Poor Mr. Locke. Being a dad is rough.]

I stared at the comments, but I didn't feel a thing.

The shoe had slipped off while I was struggling in midair. I was actually lying not far from that shoe, on a pile of jagged rocks. My body was already cold.

It started pouring again. The sky, which was clear just moments ago, suddenly darkened with heavy clouds, and fat raindrops began pelting down in a deafening rush.

The camp fell into chaos as the crew scrambled to drag equipment out of the downpour.

Dad sat under a large patio umbrella, staring at the sheets of rain outside. His expression grew uglier by the second as he grumbled, "That brat. Does she want the entire crew to stand out here and get drenched for her?"

He sliced into a medium-rare steak while replaying the earlier livestream. The screen was flooded with comments like "Badass", "The acting is insane", and "This father-daughter duo really knows how to put on a show".

He watched with great interest, letting out a few smug laughs now and then. "Look at that engagement. Our company stock is definitely hitting the limit-up tomorrow."

He speared a piece of steak and popped it into his mouth. It was the steak he was supposed to have bought for me.

Another 30 minutes went by. The rain was still torrential, and the search and rescue team still hadn't returned.

Dad checked his watch again. His fingers were tapping the table with growing impatience. He pulled out his phone and dialed my number again.

"Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently unavailable…"

He flung his phone onto the couch with a scowl and snapped at the director, "What is she, a sore loser? Is she hiding down there on purpose just to scare me?"

The director didn't dare say a word. All he could do was keep pressing the search and rescue team over and over.

Dad turned to the camera and complained, "Kids these days are totally spoiled. It's just a show, yet she's acting like it's real. She's making the whole crew stand out there in the rain with her."

Just then, the walkie-talkie crackled with a burst of static. A moment later, the search and rescue captain's trembling voice came through. "M-Mr. Smith, we only found a shoe."

This time, he was clearly on the verge of tears. "And the shoe… It's covered in blood."