Chapter 2

I closed my eyes and whispered, "I'm tired."

Michael clearly thought I was just being sulky again, and his patience was wearing thin. "Chloe, I'm saying this one last time. Get dressed and come downstairs right now. Don't make me force you."

Force me?

What was he gonna do? Lock me up in a dark room like when I was a kid?

I suddenly found it funny.

So I actually laughed, my pale lips curling into a strange, twisted smile.

"Go ahead," I said. "Do it."

My reaction clearly enraged Michael.

My mom was even more furious, trembling as she raised her hand, about to slap me.

"You disgrace!" she yelled.

I didn't move at all.

I was almost looking forward to that slap landing.

Maybe the pain would make me feel like I was still alive.

But the slap I was waiting for never landed.

Michael's fiancée, Olivia Lane, appeared at the doorway with a perfect smile, dressed in an elegant formal dress.

"Mrs. Grant, Michael, my parents are looking for you," she said.

Her gaze swept over me, paused for a moment, and then she quickly put on her flawless smile again, as if she hadn't seen me at all.

My mom's expression changed in a flash. She quickly withdrew her hand, put on a loving smile, and took Olivia's hand affectionately. "Oh, Olivia, you're here. We'll head downstairs right away."

She shot me a sharp glare, lowered her voice, and warned, "You'd better behave yourself. I'll settle this with you after the party."

With that, she left the room with Michael and Olivia, chatting and laughing as if nothing had happened.

The door slammed shut with a loud bang.

Silence finally settled over the room.

I slid down onto the floor, leaning against the cold bed frame.

I pulled out the small white pill bottle from the nightstand drawer.

I'd been hoarding those pills for ages.

I gazed out the window. Night had fallen completely, and the city's neon lights glimmered, like a grand, glittering illusion.

Downstairs, the laughter and chatter went on as if nothing had happened.

Great. Right when they were basking in their happiest, most glorious moment, I'd give them a gift they'd never forget: my death.

Maybe this was the last thing I, the "troublemaker" daughter and sister, could ever do for them.

I twisted off the cap and dumped every pill into my mouth.

There was no water, so I directly swallowed them.

The pills slid down my throat, bitter as ever.

Things started to blur.

Right before everything went black, I could swear I heard the emcee downstairs yelling, "Now, let's congratulate Michael Grant and Olivia Lane on their engagement!"

The roaring applause swallowed up my last, weak breath.

My soul floated up to the ceiling, light as air.

I saw myself lying motionless on the cold floor, without a trace of life.

That face, pale from sickness and frailty, now seemed to hold a strange serenity.

So this was what dying felt like.

I was not hurting anymore, not feeling miserable anymore.

It was pretty good.

Downstairs, the celebration raged on, with drinks flowing and laughter echoing everywhere.

No one noticed that their "trouble" had quietly vanished.

I watched my mom, her face flushed as she basked in the guests' praise.

"Mrs. Grant, you really are blessed. Your son is so outstanding, and your daughter-in-law is so beautiful," one of the guests said.

"Oh, you're flattering me." My mom grinned from ear to ear. "Michael's the one who's marrying up."

I watched my dad, the man who never said much, now holding a glass and laughing with his business partners. There was a hint of pride in his eyes that he couldn't hide.

I looked at Michael, standing beside his gorgeous fiancée. They looked like they were made for each other, basking in everyone's well wishes.

They looked so happy.

Everyone in this house was wrapped up in their own happiness.

And me? I was just dust left in the corner, forgotten by everyone.

No, maybe I didn't even count as dust.

Dust at least got to stay. Me? I was about to be tossed out like garbage.

Time kept slipping by, second after second.

The party was finally winding down.

Guests began to drift out.

After the last guest left, my mom finally relaxed. She looked exhausted, but there was more satisfaction than fatigue on her face.

"It's finally over," she said to Michael. "Michael, you did great today. Mr. Lane is really satisfied with you."

Michael nodded with a smile.

Then my mom's face suddenly turned sour.

"Where's that brat?" she snapped, remembering me. "All she does is piss me off. Just wait. I'm breaking her legs today!"

She stormed upstairs, furious.

Michael trailed after her, clearly annoyed. "Mom, just ignore her. She's only this way because we've spoiled her."

Spoiled?

Watching him walk away, I almost wanted to laugh.

Ever since I was little, how many times had they actually hugged me? Buy me new clothes? Show up at a single parent-teacher meeting?

I grew up with nannies, not them.

They gave all their love and attention to Michael.

Who on earth ever really spoiled me?