Chapter 1

To save my daughter trapped in a burning house, I rushed into that sea of flames without a second thought.

When the firefighters carried me out, my face had already been severely burned.

From that day on, I, Emily Goodman, once a top influencer with millions of followers, became a monster everyone avoided.

My five-year-old daughter clung to my leg, crying her heart out. "Mommy, you're the most beautiful mommy in the world.

"I'm the one who hurt you. I'll be good from now on, I promise. I'll give you my eyes, my nose... everything."

My husband held my bandaged face with trembling hands, his eyes red.

He said, "Honey, your scars are medals for saving our daughter. You're our hero."

I tried to move past the darkness and face life again, then I accidentally overheard them talking.

But then, I happened to catch Richard and Sophie talking.

My daughter said, "Dad, I don't want to bring classmates home anymore. When they see Mom's face, they have nightmares. They say we have a ghost in the house."

My husband's voice was cold, like a stranger's, dripping with undisguised disgust. "You think I don't feel the same? Every time I see that ghastly face, I want to throw up.

"Why didn't the fire finish her off? Keeping her alive is to torment us."

I stood behind the door, holding the strawberry cake I'd waited in line to buy. I was to celebrate my daughter's perfect score.

The cake slipped from my hands and splattered on the floor, bright red strawberry juice spreading like blood.

It was like my heart, which I'd barely pieced back together, shattered beyond repair.

I wiped my tears and didn't storm in to confront them. Instead, I turned and walked toward the deep, dark lake.

*****

The late autumn lake was so cold it pierced every pore, like countless steel needles stabbing into my skin.

The icy water rushed into my nose, squeezing every bit of air from my lungs with a searing pain.

Honestly, suffocating here felt easier than breathing in that villa they called home.

At least the water was clean.

My body slowly sank into the muddy depths, water plants caressing my limbs like gentle hands.

As my consciousness slipped away, my body suddenly felt light as a feather, and my soul slipped free from its chains, floating above everything.

I gazed down at my own body. My face, twisted with grotesque scars, was veiled by water plants, swaying softly with the ripples.

Finally, I didn't scare anyone anymore.

An invisible force tugged at me, and I floated helplessly back to the hillside villa.

That was my home.

The villa was brightly lit, with warm yellow light spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making it look extra cozy.

I expected to see them anxiously searching for me. After all, I'd left a farewell letter, and my phone was right there on the entry cabinet.

But when I pushed open the barely open door to the spirit world, what greeted me was a celebration.

Soft jazz floated through the living room. The air was heavy with red wine and an overpowering cloud of Chanel No. 5, a scent that never belonged to me.

Richard Goodman, my husband, was humming to himself and standing in front of the photo wall.

He reached up and took down the wedding photo where I wore a mask, the one we'd retaken after the fire.

Back then, he'd looked at me with so much affection and said, "No matter how you change, you'll always be my most beautiful bride."

He casually tossed the frame into the trash, not sparing it a second glance.

With a loud crash, the glass shattered.

"Finally, I don't have to look at that ghastly photo anymore." Richard sounded so cheerful, as if he were tossing out something rotten.

He added, "Man, it's such bad luck. Every time I come home, it feels like I'm walking into a haunted house, and I have to keep up the act.

"Pretending to be loving to someone whose face looks like tree bark? I couldn't take it anymore."

He clapped his hands, a look of relief he hadn't shown in ages spreading across his face.

Cheerful footsteps echoed down the stairs. Sophie Goodman, my daughter, came running in her pink princess dress, clutching a lipstick.

It was my exclusive custom lipstick, engraved with my name.

I used to treasure it. At that moment, Sophie was doodling with it like a crayon, and the red stick snapped, dropping onto the carpet. She stomped on it, smearing a vivid, eye-catching red across the rug.

"Dad, it's so nice that the monster isn't home." Sophie's smile was pure, but her words cut deep. "The air smells so much nicer now. That burnt stench is gone.

"I used to be afraid I'd have nightmares from looking at her face."

I floated in midair, my heart throbbing with a phantom pain.

This was the very daughter I'd thrown myself into the flames to rescue.

Back then, she'd cried out, "Mommy, help me," in the middle of the fire, and I shielded her with my own body. My back was left raw and bleeding after eight skin graft surgeries.

However, she was disgusted by the burnt smell that clung to me.

Richard ruffled Sophie's hair, doting on her. "Honestly, it'd be best if she never came back. If she died out there, it'd be better.

"There's no need to waste money trying to fix that monster face. That money could get you all the toys you want."

I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come.

My death was nothing but a big party for them.