Chapter 1
I went to my grave still wondering why my parents only loved that fake heiress even after they got me back.
Why did even my own fiancé choose her over me?
I died in that moldy rented room in the slums. The stomach cancer pain kept me curled up all night long.
Even in my final moments, I still naively clung to the hope that my death would at least make them regret, and that it would finally dawn on them: I was the one they’d loved all along.
But when my soul drifted back home, what I saw was the fake heiress beaming in her wedding dress, while my parents were busy with her wedding preparations.
And my ashes were scattered like garbage among the rose bushes in the garden.
No one remembered me, nor did anyone mourn me.
I died in the rented room, less than 100 square feet, in a corner of the slums reeking of mold and decay.
Stomach cancer gnawed at me like a dull blade, slowly severing my last thread of life.
Curled up on a mattress with springs poking through the worn fabric, I felt life slipping through my fingers- just like all the love and warmth that should have been mine over these past 23 years slipping from me.
As my soul left my body, I felt an unexpected sense of relief.
There would be no more searing pain in my stomach. I no longer needed to work three jobs just to pay for medical bills and rent. I could stop crying myself to sleep every night and wondering why my birth parents didn’t love me.
My soul floated in the air and looked down at the rotting corpse on the bed. That was me, Emily Donovan.
I was once the heiress of the Donovan family, yet now, I was tossed aside like trash in this dark corner.
My corpse had begun to turn greenish, with horrifying lividity marks spreading across the skin.
My hair was dry and straw-like, and my cheeks were so sunken that I was barely recognizable as human.
Who would have thought this skinny woman was once the dazzling heiress of the Donovan family?
“How bitterly ironic,” I muttered to myself, even though I knew no one could hear me. “Lilith must be dressed up in designer clothes right now, being the center of attention in the Donovans.”
Time seemed to lose all meaning in my spirit form.
I lost track of time until the door was suddenly kicked open.
A uniformed officer rushed in, only to stagger back out, gagging. “Holy crap, the smell is awful. She’s been dead for at least a week.”
The officers covered their noses and cautiously edged closer to my body.
I hovered nearby, watching as they rifled through my belongings for my ID and then called my family.
One officer said with his phone in hand, “Hello, is that Mr. Dylan Donovan? I’m an officer at Westgate Station. I’m sorry to inform you, your daughter, Emily Donovan, passed away in her rented apartment. Preliminary assessment suggests natural causes. Yes, she’s been dead for several days…”
I held my breath-if a soul could even do that-waiting for their reaction on the other end of the line.
Would they cry or be shocked? Would they finally feel regret?
“Oh, I see.” My father’s voice on the other end showed no surprise at all. “Can you please handle it for us? Just scatter her ashes anywhere possible.”
The officer frowned and asked, “Won’t you come to claim her body?”
“It’s not necessary. We’re busy,” my father replied, and the call ended abruptly.
At that moment, I felt something deep in my soul shatter beyond repair.
Even in death, the agony of being so utterly ignored cut just as sharp.
The officer shook his head and said to his colleague, “People in rich families are so cold. I heard this girl is the Donovan family’s true heiress, but even after they found her, they never really cherished her. She ran away
on her own.”
“What a tragedy. Lying dead for so long before anyone noticed her,” the officer sighed.
I was zipped into a body bag and sent to the mortuary.
All I had was the cheapest cremation furnace-no family showed up, no formal funeral, not a single person to bid me farewell.
My body turned to ashes in the flames, as if I had never existed at all.
As the clerk was about to place my ashes into a cheap plastic can, a phone call came in.
“Mr. Donovan? What, you’ve changed your mind? Of course, we’ll deliver the ashes to the place immediately,” said the clerk on the phone.
Stunned, I found myself drifting after the hearse carrying my ashes, all the way back to Donovan Manor.
For a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder-had they finally come to regret it?
Could it be they still couldn’t bear to let me go?
The car pulled up in Donovan Manor’s backyard. The gardener took the urn and dug a small hole beneath the rose bushes.
The gardener told his assistant, “Mr. Donovan said to scatter the ashes here. They can feed the flowers. After
all, she’s got Donovan’s blood. In the end, she rests at home.”
I hovered numbly in the air, watching as my own ashes were poured into the earth, destined to nourish Lilith’s precious roses.
Was this what they called “rest at home”? Was this the family love I’d always yearned for?
Just then, laughter drifted from the house.
I drifted through the wall and saw a party underway in the grand hall.
Lilith stood encircled by admirers in her custom-made white gown, radiant like a princess.
My parents, no, Dylan and Mary, looked at her with doting smiles.
My older brother, Declan Donovan, was adjusting her necklace, his eyes brimming with brotherly affection.
Mary opened a velvet box to reveal a diamond necklace and said, “Lilith, this is the engagement gift your father and I prepared for you. Jerry is a good man. You two are a perfect match.”
Jerry Cooper was my former fiancé.
He now stood beside Lilith, his arm around her waist, his eyes filled with love.
“Thank you, Mom and Dad,” Lilith said sweetly. She stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on Jerry’s cheek. “And thank you, Jerry, for your love.”
The room erupted in warm laughter, while I watched the scene above, invisible and forgotten.
Not a single person remembered that today was the day they cast my ashes into their precious garden.
I floated right before Lilith, fixing my ghostly gaze on her delicate face.
She suddenly shuddered and shrank into Jerry’s arms.
“What’s wrong?” Jerry asked with concern.
“Nothing, just felt a sudden chill.” Lilith forced a smile, though her eyes darted nervously.
Could this woman who stole everything from me sense me?
The party lasted well into the night.
After all the guests left, Dylan and Mary sat in the living room, chatting while sipping coffee.
“The police called today,” Dylan said abruptly. “They said Emily was dead.”
Mary’s hand paused for a moment, then she gracefully resumed stirring her coffee. “Really? How did she die?”
Dylan replied, “Stomach cancer. I had them scatter her ashes in the garden.”
“Well.” Mary took a sip of coffee. “Lilith’s engagement to Jerry is next month. I gotta finalize their gowns and suits soon.”
Just like that, they casually brushed off my death and moved on to discussing the menu for Lilith’s engagement party.
I stood right before them, screaming and wailing hysterically-but of course, they couldn’t hear a single sound.
Declan came downstairs, overhearing his parents discussing Lilith’s engagement. With a smile, he chimed in, “Lilith will look stunning in a white dress. By the way, didn’t she say she likes that Harry Winston diamond ring…”
They were engrossed in animated discussions and plans, as though a girl named Emily had never existed in their world.
I floated upstairs to what was once my room.
Now it had been completely converted into Lilith’s walk-in closet. Every trace of my belongings disappeared.
Only a small photo frame remained in the corner: a family portrait of Dylan, Mary, Declan, and Lilith.
I was excluded from this so-called family, as if I’d never been found by them at all.
Memories flooded back like waves.
Three years earlier, when Dylan and Mary showed up at the restaurant where I worked, I could hardly believe
my eyes.
They told me a DNA test revealed there’d been a hospital mix-up when I was born. I was actually their real daughter.
“Come home with us, dear,” Mary said, tears glistening in her eyes.
I thought that was the start of my happily-ever-after.
I dreamed of finally having a real family and a true home.
I was even naive enough to believe that Lilith and I would bond as sisters.
But reality soon shattered my illusions.
On my very first day back at Donovan Manor, Lilith “accidentally” spilled red wine all over the only decent dress I owned. It was a birthday gift from the restaurant owner. It was the nicest piece of clothing I had.
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” Lilith said, batting her innocent eyes at me. “I didn’t mean to do that, Millie. You won’t be mad at me, will you?”
Dylan immediately comforted her. “It’s just an old dress. Lilith, I will take you shopping for a new one
tomorrow.”
And there I stood, my dress soaked and clinging to me, and not even a single towel was offered.
That night, I overheard Lilith talking on the phone in her room, “Relax, that country bumpkin won’t last long. You know what, she can’t even use proper cutlery.”
The days that followed were a living nightmare.
No matter how hard I studied etiquette or buried myself in lessons, I could never measure up to Lilith in my family’s eyes.
All she had to do was a few sweet words, and they’d give her everything I’d ever longed for.
What hurt me the most was Jerry. He was meant to be my fiancé-our families had arranged our engagement the day I was born.
“Millie, I just don’t think we’re right for each other,” Jerry told me, though his eyes kept drifting to Lilith, who was swinging on the swing in the garden. “You and Lilith… are worlds apart.”
Yeah, we were indeed worlds apart.
She was a rose cultivated with care, while I was just a roadside weed, ignored by all.
The day I ran away from home, my family held a grand birthday party for Lilith.
She wore a couture gown, looking like a true princess.
Meanwhile, I huddled in the shadows in a borrowed dress that didn’t quite fit.
In front of everyone, she said sweetly, “Millie, I heard you used to work in a restaurant, right? Why don’t you put on a show for us and demonstrate how you used to carry trays?”
Amidst the laughter of the guests, I saw Dylan and Mary laughing too, and even Declan couldn’t help but chuckle.
Jerry stood with his arm possessively around Lilith’s waist. He gazed at her with doting amusement as she delivered her cruel performance.
That night, I packed my few meager belongings, left a letter behind, and walked out of Donovan Manor without a single backward glance.
It had been three years since I walked out of that door.
Over the past three years, I scraped by on countless odd jobs, slept rough under bridges, and finally ended up in this dingy rented room in the slums.
I worked myself to the bone, desperate to prove I could survive without the Donovan family.
But then stomach cancer came for me, and I couldn’t afford treatment.
Even in my final moments, I still clung to the naive hope that my death would make the Donovans regret, and that it would finally dawn on them that they’d loved me all along.
But now, watching them bustling about for Lilith’s engagement, it finally dawned on me that to them, my life and death were nothing significant.
As a spirit, I knew tears were impossible.
Yet scalding trails still ran down my cheeks.
I drifted into the garden, watching my own ashes sink into the soil.
“Is this how my story ends?” I asked the night sky, but only silence answered.
The house’s lights still blazed brightly, faint laughter drifting through the night.
Lilith’s life would keep shining, while I’d forever be just ashes nourishing her roses.
How bitterly ironic my life was.
I finally did “come home”-in the most humiliating way imaginable.
