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My daughter, Lana Parker, hated me to the core. I raised her to be a model, but she said she didn't want to be something people stared at like a display piece. She started dating an older man, and I did everything I could to stop her. She said I couldn't stand seeing her find "true love." She won first place in a modeling competition and stepped onto the international stage, but during an interview, she accused me of abusing her. Later, she killed me, scattered my ashes into a filthy gutter, and sneered that I had it coming. After I came back to life, I canceled all her training classes, dismissed her coach, and gave her the freedom to date whoever she wanted. I watched her go from being bright and admired to a life of self-indulgence, and honestly, I didn't care. In the end, she finally regretted it.