Chapter 2

The day after the bracelet was shipped out, I stayed locked inside my bedroom.

Old coding textbooks were spread across my desk, while my monitor displayed the Python interface I had spent the past six months learning in secret.

This was my sanctuary.

Mom never cared about my actual room; she only cared about her "dutiful daughter" persona when the camera rolled. I had skimped on pocket money to buy programming books, typing out scripts late into the night.

I had also hidden a tiny pinhole camera in the corner, aimed straight at my doorway.

Every single time Mom barged in to "inspect" my space or scream profanities at me, it recorded every second. She never bothered rifling through my cluttered desk, always scoffing that kids kept messy junk, which made it the safest hiding spot imaginable.

Sitting beside my keyboard was an external hard drive with a pink case, decorated with a cute bunny sticker.

Mom knew all about this drive. She believed I used it solely to store home videos and family photos.

As dusk settled, I placed the drive inside an elegant gift box and walked out.

Mom was lounging on the sofa with a sheet mask on, ordering her assistant around to finalize brand sponsorships.

"Mom."

I spoke softly.

She peeled back an eyelid, glancing at me with pure annoyance.

"What now? Still throwing a tantrum over that cheap bracelet?"

I shook my head, forced a gentle smile, and presented the box.

"Mom, this is for you."

I lifted the lid to reveal the pink hard drive.

"I spent time organizing all our family photos and videos onto it, along with digital copies of my journals over the years…"

"It's our family's complete digital archive."

A delighted look flashed across her face as she took the drive. She pulled me into a tight hug and planted a theatrical kiss on my cheek.

"Oh, my sweet Chloe! You've finally grown up and learned some sense!"

She pulled out her phone immediately and snapped a selfie of us holding the hard drive.

*Click.*

Her fingers flew across the screen as she drafted a post for her feed:

*My baby girl surprised me with a complete digital archive of our family's happiest moments. I'm so deeply touched! [Heart]*

Dad and several relatives chimed in within seconds, showering the post with likes and glowing praise.

She gazed down at the notifications, thoroughly pleased with herself.

…

Late that night, I stepped out onto the balcony.

I looked back into that lavish penthouse one last time.

It was never a home.

It was a cage. A performance stage. An execution chamber.

Flashing through my mind were the times she called me her "precious angel" on camera, only to hiss that I was "stupid as a pig" the moment the red light blinked off.

I remembered Dad counting his cut of the brand deals, and the way he averted his eyes whenever I begged him to help me.

Living was just too exhausting.

The night wind whipped around me, snapping the fabric of my clothes. The city traffic far below flowed like a river of gold, but not a single spark of light belonged to me.

I spread my arms wide and let myself fall.

The wind roared in my ears.

The drop accelerated violently.

The agony lasted only a fraction of a second.

What followed was a lightness unlike anything I had ever felt before.

I was floating.

Suspended in the air, I watched my mangled body lying crumpled in the courtyard garden below.

A piercing scream shattered the night from the balcony above.

Mom rushed to the railing, but her initial reaction wasn't to look down at me.

Instead, her eyes frantically swept the surrounding street corners, terrified that paparazzi or passersby with smartphones might be filming.

Dad stumbled out right behind her.

The moment he glimpsed the ground, his legs gave out completely, and he collapsed onto the tiles.

"It's over… everything is ruined… we're completely done for…"

He didn't even have the courage to crawl toward the ledge.

In that quiet space, I smiled.

I knew it. To them, my death was never a tragedy—just an inconvenient PR nightmare.