My father was a highly respected criminal investigator, and my mother was the head of the ER, dedicated to saving lives.

However, I was a regular at the local police station. I fought, caused trouble, and earned the title of “the most hopeless kid on the block.”

The first time, I publicly insulted my newly transferred cousin at school. My father dragged me straight to the police station in front of everyone and had me locked up for a full day and night.

The second time, I led a gang of thugs to block my cousin’s way home in an alley. My mother was so furious, she dumped me deep in the mountains, leaving me to be bullied by a lecherous bachelor.

The third time, I stole a keepsake from my cousin and tossed it down a sewer. My father put the handcuffs on me himself and sent me straight to juvenile detention.

Five years later, I became a key informant in an anti-fraud operation, helping the police crack a major nationwide case. The media rushed to report the story, and journalists packed my parents’ house to interview the “hero’s family.”

However, my parents just scoffed over the phone. “Her? A hero? We will only believe she is changed for the better when she is dead.”

So why was it that when they saw me lying in a pool of blood after shielding a hostage, they finally cried?

I woke to the sound of quiet, steady sobbing in my ear.

A small, helpless girl sat beside me, tugging at my sleeve, swatting away the flies that would not leave me alone.

Her eyes were red and swollen, wide with fear, as she clung to me like I was the only thing keeping her safe.

“Please wake up. I am scared.”

That was when it finally hit me—I was dead.

Three days ago, I stumbled straight into a kidnapping. The man had Chloe in his grip. After a desperate fight, I managed to wrench her free and hide her in my apartment.

However, I did not expect him to follow us all the way there. I hid her for her safety and faced him alone.

I let out a sigh, wanting to float over to Chloe and pat her shoulder to comfort her, but my hand passed right through her body.

Just then, the muffled roar of voices spilled in from outside.

“This is the home of the brave hero who risked her life to help the police crack that nationwide anti-fraud case.”

“Wow, so this is Ruby’s house?”

“I heard her dad’s a top criminal investigator, and her mom’s the head of the ER. No wonder they raised a kid like that.”

“Come on, open up. Let us see the hero!”

The livestream’s viewer count was skyrocketing. Reporters chuckled as they pressed the doorbell repeatedly.

There was no answer. Then Mrs. Lawson from next door shuffled over. Her face lit up when she heard the news.

“Ruby is a good kid. Her parents are probably still busy. I have their phone number right here.”

The moment she read out that string of digits—numbers so familiar they were etched into my memory, my heart gave a faint, helpless tremor.

The truth was, when I agreed to be the key informant for the operation, I never expected to make it back alive.

My parents had always said I was worth more dead than alive.

That was why I thought that perhaps they would feel a flicker of pride if I died during that mission.

After all, I had always been a lost cause in their eyes.

A hopeless stain they could never wash clean.

Finally, the reporters got through. After a long stretch of busy tones, I heard their voices for the first time in years.

However, when the journalists told them what had happened, all that came through the line was a short, mocking laugh.

“What are you, actors Ruby hired? Her? A hero? She is rotten to the core. The only way we would believe she has changed is if she were dead.”

I did not know when a tear slid into the corner of my eye. However, it did not matter now. I really had died, just as they had always wished.

The reporters must not have expected to hear a parent curse their own daughter like that.

One of them froze as his face flushed red.

“Mr. Xerri, how can you say that? This mission only succeeded because Ruby risked her life to secure the key evidence.

“And I have heard she was stabbed in the abdomen by a dangerous suspect during the operation, leaving a long scar. How could you…”

He did not get to finish. My mother’s voice cut him off, sharp and laced with mockery.

“You still claim you are not the actor she hired? That scar on her stomach is obviously from fooling around with men outside of school and ending up in surgery.”

Even the most well-mannered reporter could not keep the anger from rising to his face.

Messages flooded in the livestream chat:

“What kind of parents talk about their child like this?”

“The police themselves confirmed her injury came from the mission.”

One reporter opened his mouth to speak again, but then another voice chimed in from the other end of the line.

It was sweet and syrupy. “Mom, what are we eating later?”

The tone was nothing like the cold edge my mother had just used on the reporter. It was warm and gentle, a voice I had not heard directed at me since the day Davina moved into our home.

Everyone in the room and in the livestream froze at the voice. According to the official records, my parents had only one child, and I was the only child.

By blood, Davina was my cousin. Six years ago, her parents died and left her alone in the world. My parents, unable to bear the thought of her alone, took her in.

Nevertheless, that was when my nightmare began. Piece by piece, she replaced me in their hearts. She became their cherished, perfect daughter.

The voice on the line went on.

“Don’t you love blue crabs? Then let us have some blue crabs tonight.”

Davina hesitated for a moment as though she was struck by a sudden thought. “If we eat something so good here, won’t it make Ruby unhappy? Maybe I should not.”

Her voice sank with feigned reluctance, and my mother rushed to soothe her. Even my usually stern father softened his tone.

“Davina, you get to eat anything you want. Ruby brought everything on herself. She deserves whatever she gets.”

“That is right. A bad seed like her is not worth your concern, Davina.”

“Mom, maybe we should bring some back home for Ruby,” replied Davina.

My mother let out a sigh. “Davina, you’re far too kind.”

Then she turned back to the phone. “Did you hear that, Ruby? Stop causing trouble. We can bring you some blue crabs if it will shut you up. Honestly, when will you ever be like Davina, so we can stop being ashamed of you?”

I could not remember the rest of what she said. I just stared at the phone with my mind caught in a haze.

I remembered being little, breaking out in hives from eating crab. My mother had cradled me in her arms, her face etched with worry, staying by my side in the hospital night after night. When I finally woke, her eyes were red and swollen from crying.

Now she thought bringing me some crab was kindness.

Mother, I held onto those nights for so long, only to find you had forgotten them long ago.

Perhaps they had never seen parents so cold-blooded; the livestream chat was flooded with nothing but sympathy for me.

[What kind of person says something like that?]

[No matter what, she is still your daughter. How can you be so blatantly two-faced?]

Even the reporter stepped in. “Mrs. Xerri, Ruby is still your daughter no matter what. How could you say such things about her?”

My mother let out a cold, derisive laugh.

“She cursed at Davina at school the very day she transferred in, blocked her in an alley with a gang of thugs, and even stole the only keepsake Davina’s parents left her, then tossed it down a sewer.

“With someone that hopeless, I would rather not have her as a child at all.”

Her words lit a fire in the livestream comments. Some classmates recognized me immediately.

[Isn’t that Ruby Xerri from our class? She is always bullying her younger sister. I have seen it myself. Honestly, no wonder her mom talks like that.]

[Wait, is this for real? She is the so-called ‘hero’ in the news?!]

The harsh words scrolled across the screen like burning brands. The reporter was at a loss for words for a moment.

That was when Mrs. Lawson wiped away her tears and lifted her head.

“Ruby's a good girl. There must be a misunderstanding. Back when I was alone at home and could barely get around, it was Ruby who bought all my groceries and daily necessities. Every weekend, without fail, she had come over to keep me company, chatting with me and taking me out to sit in the sun.

“She donates to the orphanage and plays with the children there every day.

“I know people. Ruby is nothing like what you are saying.”

I heaved a sigh. Too bad I would not be able to keep her company anymore.

Mrs. Lawson took the phone and spoke into it. “Zoey, you should come home and check on Ruby.

“She never misses a weekend with me, but she has not shown up at all this weekend. I am afraid something might have happened.”

My mother clicked her tongue in annoyance. “She has two working hands and legs. What could possibly happen to her?”

Mrs. Lawson’s eyes welled up again as though something had just occurred to her.

“The night before last, when I got up to use the bathroom, I saw someone standing outside your house. I thought it was her father at first, but now… now I cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong. I knocked on the door a few times, but no one ever answered.”

The livestream erupted again.

[Oh my goodness, could this be revenge?]

[I still cannot believe someone with her kind of character is the same ‘hero’ from the reports.]

[Forget that. If this really was revenge, she might already be in serious danger.]

Even the reporters grew tense, urging my parents to hurry home.

In the end, they did come back. I finally let out a breath when I saw them arrive; at least Chloe would be safe now.

However, my father’s expression was like a stone. His eyes swept over the scene. He furrowed his brows at the sight of the professional equipment set up outside.

My mother’s voice was still edged with ice as she cursed under her breath and unlocked the door.

“What could possibly have happened to her?”

The moment the door opened, a stench of rot rolled out, so sharp and foul it made their eyes sting.

The reporter’s brow furrowed. The stench was not right.

Then they saw what was inside.

Furniture shoved aside bore deep, jagged knife marks. On the table sat half a bowl of plain noodles, left to spoil, and on the floor, a smear of blood had long since dried.

The livestream chat went wild again: [This… this really looks like a crime scene.]