Growing up, I had always felt fortunate for my parents' open-mindedness and I had a good relationship with my brother. It wasn't until my brother started gambling that I realized, deep down, they had always favored sons over daughters.

Even a criminal adopted son mattered more than their responsible biological daughter.

Daughters were like spilled water—no matter how successful, they are never truly reliable in their eyes.

When I was a child and made mistakes, my dad would strictly teach me about right and wrong. But in moments like this, he was able to make such a decision without hesitation.

In their hearts, I never measured up to my brother—never.

My mom kept complaining, saying that if it weren’t for my refusal to sell the house, my brother wouldn’t have been driven to this. She called me selfish and claimed I never considered the family.

In this matter, although they never outright forced me, my mom had hinted several times, saying that my brother had it tough, that he was impatient and, even if he went down the wrong path, it was understandable. She kept implying that I should help him if I could.

That's exactly why my brother believed the house I bought was also part of his property.

My dad, irritated, told her to shut up, looking anxious. "I can't shake this uneasy feeling. Do you think something's going to happen?"

"What's going to happen? You're overthinking it," my mom replied, trying to sound calm. "There are no cameras around here and there's nothing left of her. I’d like to see who could trace it back to us."

My dad stayed silent for a while before suddenly picking up his phone to make a call. My mom, panicking, snatched it away and relaxed only when she saw he had dialed my number. She then scolded him, "You should also persuade her. What's the big deal about the house? We're family—why can't she just give it up to help us out? After raising her all these years, is she really going to watch her brother be driven to despair?"

My dad didn't respond. He kept redialing my number again and again, but it never went through.

Of course it didn’t. My phone, along with anything that could identify me, had been smashed and thrown into the trash. My brother must have been planning this for a while.

When the calls wouldn’t go through, my dad finally started to worry and called my boyfriend, Colin, asking if he had heard from me.

Colin's voice was filled with panic, "Mr. Wail, I’ve been trying to reach Zora since she landed, but her phone’s been off and she hasn’t come home!"

"This is huge! Why are you just telling me now?" My dad, alarmed, jumped to his feet and rushed outside, shouting to my mom, "Zora is missing!"

"Can’t she even have a quiet birthday? She’s no help at all, just causing more trouble for this family!" My mom cursed a few times before following him out.

I followed along and saw that the house was decorated in a very warm and romantic way, with flowers, balloons and streamers. There were many of my friends present and the table was filled with an array of delicious dishes. There was also a cake and beside it, a sparkling ring was placed.

I was stunned for a moment and then realized that Colin was planning to propose to me.

Colin and I had been together for five years, from our school days to the real world. Our relationship was always very strong. He had mentioned earlier this year that he would have a surprise for my birthday and I never expected it would be a proposal.

He waited for me with great anticipation, but instead, I was brutally murdered by my own brother and my family covered up the crime. Was heaven playing a cruel joke on me?

My chest felt like it had been struck with a chisel, sending shivers of pain through me, yet I couldn't shed a single tear. I watched Colin, his face full of remorse, as he blamed himself for not coming to get me. His eyes were red and he clutched his hair, crying in anguish.

My parents kept comforting him and told him not to worry.

They were always considerate and were the parents who raised me, but their hands were stained with blood and they were also the murderers who brutally dismembered me.

The amulet for peace around my neck was stained with blood, a talisman my father had obtained for me, now discarded by him. What should have been a touching scene left me feeling itchy all over.

After searching all night without success, they called the police at dawn.

Colin urged my parents to go home and rest while he stayed with the police to continue the search.

My father kept muttering, "It's all retribution, it's all retribution."

My mother tried to reassure him, but she was also trembling, saying that everything would be fine.

"No, no, this isn't right!" My father, pale-faced, rushed into my brother's room. "Did you see your sister yesterday?"

My brother, flustered, hastily blocked the search page on his computer and impatiently replied, "I haven't been in touch with her for days."

"Your sister is missing." My mother wiped her tears, "We searched all night and couldn’t find her. The police are still looking."

"Maybe she had a fight with Colin and is hiding somewhere." My brother casually responded, "Don’t worry about her. She’ll probably come out on her own."

"How can you say such things!"

My father, enraged, shouted, "She’s your sister!"

My brother retorted defiantly, "Does she even see me as her brother? Mom told me it was you who taught her not to send money home these past two years!"

"That’s her money! What does it have to do with you!"

Furious, my father pushed him, then noticed that his computer screen was displaying a search on: “How to declare a missing person dead.”

At first stunned, my father then roared, "Where did you take your sister?”

My brother remained silent.

It seemed my father suddenly realized something. He crawled and stumbled his way to the slaughterhouse, diving into the pile of garbage to search frantically.

My mother followed, asking what he was looking for.

I knew what he was searching for—my amulet. After being torn off my neck, it had been carelessly discarded among the trash.

My father, trembling all over, ignored my mother and frantically dug through the pile.

I watched coldly from behind, until he finally pulled out a dark, grimy object, desperately trying to clean it but failing.

"Have you lost your mind?" my mother yelled.

My mother scolded angrily, "What bad luck! Just throw it away already!"

My father, kneeling on the ground, kept scrubbing at the amulet. He ran to the sink and the dark red stains were washed away, revealing the amulet's original appearance.

He froze, rooted to the spot.

My mother continued to scold him, complaining that he had made a mess by rummaging through the trash.

My father, completely overwhelmed, collapsed and grabbed my mother, shaking uncontrollably.

"The girl we dealt with yesterday was Zora," he said.

My mother, unable to comprehend, stared blankly at him.

My father, in utter collapse, screamed, "The person we disposed of yesterday was our own daughter!"