Dad's Regret After Killing Me for Ex's Daughter

Because my father's childhood sweetheart's daughter was accidentally burned, my father was angry and locked me in the fire house where werewolf criminals were punished.

He assigned the housekeeper to set the room to spray fire every 2 hours. The burns were excruciating, my werewolf healing barely keeping me alive between sessions.

Ten days later, he finally remembered he had a daughter and decided to let me out.

But what he didn't know was that I had already died in that fire house, never to wake again.

……

"How is that rebellious she-wolf doing? Does she know she's wrong now?"

In the vast Beta's villa, my father's question rang out like thunder on a clear day. The pack members nearby tensed visibly, their eyes lowered to avoid his gaze.

The pack housekeeper answered tremblingly, her hands clasped tightly together: "Sir, Miss Scarlett is still in the fire house."

My father's fingers, tapping impatiently on the mahogany armrest. His jaw clenched as he exhaled sharply.

"I've been too lenient with her all along. That's why she's become so lawless, daring to burn Amber using her gun. She needs to learn her lesson."

The housekeeper still felt some compassion and said, her voice barely above a whisper, "But the fire house is used to punish werewolf criminals, and the fire inside is too intense. Even the strongest wolf will feel pain... will Miss Scarlett..."

"Ha, pain?" My father stood abruptly, causing the housekeeper to step back. "That's exactly what she needs to feel. Let's see if she dares to treat Amber like that again. Only by experiencing the heat herself will she stop doing such things."

His eyes flashed yellow – a sign of his wolf rising close to the surface. "She is my daughter; I have the obligation to discipline her."

My father's voice was cold, seemingly forgetting that I had already been locked in the fire house for ten days.

The housekeeper wanted to say something more but was impatiently interrupted when my father slammed his fist against the wall.

"Enough! Do you think no one's been secretly closing the fire and bringing her healing herbs? She's fine. She won't die."

Hearing this, I couldn't help but laugh, though no one could hear my voice.

Because I was already dead.

I had been dead for five days already.

Since then, my spirit had been following my father, watching his cruelty and indifference.

"Thank you, Dad. Please don't be angry anymore. Let's free Scarlett now. The fire in the fire house was too intense; she must be suffering terribly."

From the bedroom, from what used to be my room, Amber emerged wearing a flowing cream dress, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. My father's eyes instantly softened, showing a tenderness I had never seen before.

"Sweet Amber," he murmured, all traces of anger vanishing from his face.

Amber came downstairs and sat beside my father, her presence seeming to calm him instantly. She placed her hand over his, and he accepted the gesture with a smile.

"Forget about her. You're just too kind," he said, voice gentle now. "She burned you on purpose with her toy gun, causing your wolf to become so weak now. She deserves to be punished."

Amber's face showed concern. "It might have been an accident..."

"No," my father cut her off, his tone hardening again. "I know my daughter. She was jealous of you. Always has been."

When speaking of me, my father's eyes were as cold as if he were talking about an enemy.

But why? Wasn't I his daughter? Hadn't I earned his love?

In the mansion, the housekeeper walked to the kitchen, muttering quietly to the cook, "He'd sacrifice his own blood for that girl. Acting like Scarlett means nothing to him. It's not right. Not right at all."

Amber's eyes glistened with tears. "Thank you, Dad. You're so good to me. I wish you were my real father." She choked up a bit, leaning on my father's shoulder.

My father wrapped an arm around her, his expression softening impossibly further. "Silly girl, as long as you want, I can be your father."

A woman appeared, none other than the love of my father's life, Elise.

Her silhouette stood in the doorway, backlit by the setting sun. My father's breath caught audibly at the sight of her.

"Donovan," Elise said, her voice like silk. "I heard shouting."

Before she entered our lives, I had always believed the woman my father loved most would be my mother.

I remembered how he used to look at Mom—with respect, with fondness, but never with the raw hunger I now saw in his eyes as they devoured Elise.

But everything changed after Mom passed away.

The funeral had barely ended when Elise started appearing at our house. First for "condolences," then for "pack business," and finally, she didn't need excuses anymore.

Today, I find myself somewhat grateful that Mom died from illness and never witnessed this heartless side of the man she loved her entire life.

Mom thought she had married a loyal wolf. How wrong she had been.

I guess I'll be seeing Moon Goddess soon. Maybe I will see mom there too. In my next life, I'll never be father's daughter again.

"Donovan, a small punishment is enough. Scarlett is still your daughter," Elise said, her voice honeyed with false concern.

She stepped closer, placing a manicured hand on his forearm. My father relaxed under her touch, his rage subsiding like a tide.

"She hurt Amber," he growled, but with less conviction.

"My daughter will heal," Elise whispered. "Family is precious, Donovan. You know that."

Mother and daughter played their parts perfectly, posing as the compassionate ones. But if they were truly good people, they wouldn't have watched me locked in the fire house for ten days and nights.

Not once had either of them brought water, food, or medicine. Not once had they argued against my punishment. Only now, with an audience of pack members, did they pretend to care.

The most ironic part? The fire house had been renovated under my father's orders just before I was punished there. He had wanted a more "humane" facility for pack criminals.

"A pack that treats its criminals with dignity is strong, not weak," he had declared at the opening ceremony. I had been so proud of him then.

Now it had become my tomb.

I died curled in a corner, as far from the fire jets as possible, but there was no true escape. My wolf had tried to heal me between burnings, but eventually, even she gave up.