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In the fifth year of my separation from William, I died suddenly in a foreign land, leaving behind only my frail four-year-old daughter, Mia. That night, my father, Henry, made a call to William. A cold, impatient voice answered. "The child isn't mine. Charlotte and I have been separated for five years. We're basically divorced. Even if she's dead, don't come to me!" Henry tried to explain. "You're still her husband. We need your signature on the death certificate... or Mia can't be placed for adoption." Henry, now elderly, couldn't shoulder the responsibility of raising my daughter alone. But he knew all too well that William would never accept this child. William laughed in anger. "To avoid divorce, she's even daring enough to fake her death now? Well, I hope she gets what she wants!" The call ended abruptly. With no options left, Henry and Mia traveled miles to William's office, along with the death certificate and photos of my remains.