Chapter 3After I Died, My Father Didn't Recognize My Body

I couldn't react until the phone call ended.

My outstretched hand passed through Dad's body. I watched as he swept everything off the table onto the floor. When he left, his eyes were full of hatred.

"They are better off dead!" he said.

I couldn't believe such words came from my dad's mouth. He used to be so gentle...

In eight years, I had missed too much.

Dad's words had come true. We were both dead.

He said he only had one daughter, and that his only child was Lillian.

I followed him back to the home I remembered, the place I dreamed of returning to every day. But this time, I hesitated to go inside.

There was nothing familiar in the house. Every trace of Mom and me had been completely erased.

Lillian's photos hung on the walls. She was in a princess dress. She was held in Dad's arms, smiling happily.

There were pictures of their trips together, birthdays, and little crafts the girl had made, displayed on the shelves.

Unwilling to give up, I walked to my room. It had been turned into Lillian's study. Dad loved her. I went to look. Lillian's room was cozy and cute. She liked pink, while I liked warm yellow.

There was no trace of Mom and me ever living in this house. Not even our photos or rooms had been kept.

I found the torn wedding photo in the storeroom. Only then did I truly believe that Dad had given up on Mom and me.

Dad really loved Lillian. On the first day he adopted her, he even took her to change her name.

Grandma kept calling Dad. Every time, he just impatiently hung up.

Then Lillian called. When she said she had a cold, Dad frowned. His face was full of concern. He picked up his coat from the sofa and started heading out.

"You're not in good health. I'll buy you some medicine and send it over. Don't buy it yourself. Some medicines aren't good for you..." he said.

His face was full of worry. The disgust he had when mentioning Mom and me was gone. Lillian only had a cold, and Dad was terribly concerned.

Dad didn't say anything, yet it felt like he said everything.

I started to regret leaving that clue. Dad hated Mom and me so much. All my previous hopes seemed like a joke.

...

When the police followed the address, no one was there anymore.

The courtyard was full of trash. The police found many things, including a stack of photos and bloodstains on the ground, which caught their attention.

The items were taken back. Dad didn't go with them. I watched him pick up the keychain that was put into the bag. I felt nervous.

They were two very old keychains with my and Mom's surnames engraved on them. We bought them from a small stall when the three of us went on a trip. Would he recognize them?

My gaze followed Dad's hand holding the keychain. But before he could look closer, someone patted his shoulder, interrupting him.

I knew this person. He was Dad's longtime colleague and friend, Lincoln Harris.

He was wearing a police uniform. He took the item from Dad's hand and put it back on the table. His expression was serious.

"Aaron, as a friend, let me advise you. Even if you say Claire betrayed you, the child is innocent. In all these years, didn't you ever think of looking for Sofia?!

"Sofia is probably around the same age as Lillian by now!

"Your mom called me yesterday. She didn't say anything wrong, you..." he said.

Dad pushed Lincoln away. His voice was unusually firm. His eyes were cold. He let out a disdainful chuckle, and his tone was icy.

"She doesn't need me. She has a mother who ran off with another man for eight years. Why should I care?

"Even if she died in front of me, it would have nothing to do with me!

"Don't mention her to me. I find it disgusting," he said.

He found it disgusting. Lincoln said nothing more. He sighed and left.

Dad had no interest in looking any further. He left without glancing at the two keychains again.

The photos found in the house were confirmed by the police to be of abducted children.

I watched from the side, feeling anxious. Eight years had passed. It had been too long.

I wanted to beg them to search the courtyard again. Mom was still buried there...

But I couldn't speak.