Ch. For Adopted Daughter, My Parents Ruin Me Ch 22 For Adopted Daughter, My Parents Ruin Me Ch 22

Chapter 6 

As my soul rose, I was still trying to make sense of why I could see everything around 

1. me. 

It wasn’t until I saw my own lifeless body slumped over the desk that I realized- 

Oh, I’m dead. 

The sound coming from the door caught my attention, and I turned to see the maid had returned. 

My last shred of hope shattered instantly; my brothers didn’t come back for me. 

When the maid saw me slumped at the desk, with a photo for my funeral beside me, she froze in shock. 

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After a moment, she cautiously leaned in, her trembling fingers brushing my nose. Her face turned ashen, and then she screamed. 

She grabbed her phone and dialed a number, her voice trembling with fear. 

“Hello! Please, come quick, someone’s dead here… Yes, yes, the address is…” 

After hanging up, she patted her chest, clearly shaken, and shot a wary glance at me before turning away. 

Suddenly, it seemed she remembered something, and her face tightened with 

unease. 

She hesitated for a moment, then picked up her phone again and made another call. 

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“Mr. William…” 

The maid slowly walked away, and I couldn’t bring myself to care, nor did I follow her. 

I don’t know how long it was before she returned, hands clasped together, muttering something over my body. 

Then, a peculiar sound came from outside, and a group of uniformed people, led by the maid, entered the room. 

They set up a perimeter and began 

searching, but found nothing–my death was 

ruled as natural causes. 

“What the hell is going on here?” 

William walked into the room, his face grim. Upon seeing the disorder, he clearly grew frustrated. 

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After understanding the situation, he dismissed everyone and stayed behind alone. 

His gaze shifted slightly, his expression growing more complex, revealing nothing of what he was thinking. 

He moved closer, slowly placing two fingers on my neck as if he were checking to see if I was really dead. 

At that moment, I couldn’t help but wonder- would he have my body cremated? 

The urn sat quietly beside him. Surely, they understood what I was implying. 

But if they were pretending not to, there was nothing I could do to force their hand. 

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I floated in the air, the boredom settling over me. I started idly picking at my fingers when, out of nowhere, I saw a glimmer of tears in his eyes. 

I widened my eyes, hardly able to believe what I was seeing. 

He was crying? Was he really crying? 

I turned my head to look at his face. His eyes were red–rimmed, and the moisture was unmistakable. 

After a brief sense of shock, a wave of annoyance washed over me. Who was he doing this for? Was this for the dead? 

William bent down, shielding his face as suppressed sobs escaped him. 

This was the first time I’d seen him 

cry. 

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When our parents passed, he must’ve hidden it from me–always turning his back. 

But today, I was seeing him show such vulnerability in front of me for the first time. 

Was it because of me? I couldn’t understand 

1. it. 

Since my mother’s death, I hadn’t felt any warmth from my family or friends. It was the kindness of strangers that had slowly started to light up the darkness inside me. 

After walking out of the photography studio, clutching the funeral photos prepared for myself, I squatted down by the side of the road, lost in thought. 

Suddenly, I caught a faint scent in the air. Following the fragrance, I spotted a small 

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stand selling Hot Pockets. 

Before I even realized it, I found myself standing in front of the vendor. 

The owner, busy with orders, didn’t even look up. “What would you like, miss?” 

I glanced at my empty wallet, feeling my face heat up. 

The owner finally looked up, paused for a moment, and then gently asked, “Miss, would you like a Hot Pocket?” 

Embarrassed, I shook my head. “No, I… I don’t have any money, and I’m not hungry.” 

But just as I finished speaking, my stomach betrayed me, rumbling loudly. 

I lowered my head, ready to hurry off when 

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the owner called out to me. 

“Hey, wait a second!” She turned and pulled two steaming Hot Pockets from the steamer, handing them to me. 

“Here, go ahead. It’s alright. If you ever need anything, just come find me.” 

“I might not be able to do much, but I can spare these Hot Pockets.” 

Tears started to fall again, and I smiled as I took the food from her, softly thanking her. 

The warmth of the Hot Pockets in my hands brought me a sense of comfort, and gradually, my heart softened. 

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