My Dad Only Loves Me After I Died

"What about that rebellious girl? Has she begged for mercy yet?" My father's questions echoed like thunder in the large villa.

The butler, Alfred Donald, replied in a trembling voice, "Sir, Ms. Xavier hasn't come out yet."

In between my father's fingers was a cigar, and he paused in his action momentarily. "I've spoiled her. That's why she's so unruly. How dare she lock Rosie in the car? We should let her suffer a bit."

Alfred could not bear it and said, "But it's over 104 degrees outside. It's so hot in the car. Won't Ms. Xavier…"

"Ha, hot? I want her to feel the heat. Let's see if she'll treat Rosie like that again. Only when she feels the heat in the car will she stop doing things like that." My father's voice was indifferent as if he had entirely forgotten that I had been locked in the trunk for seven days.

Alfred tried to say something more, but my father interrupted impatiently, "Enough. Do you think no one's been secretly sending her food? She's fine. She won't die."

Hearing that, I could not help but laugh, but no one could hear me. It was because I was already dead. I died four days ago. Since then, my soul had been following my father.

"Mr. Xavier, don't be mad anymore. Let Blake out. It's so hot outside. She must be suffering," Rosie Sutherland said from upstairs as she emerged from what used to be my room in a pure white nightgown.

My father's expression softened instantly, exuding a tenderness I had never seen before.

Rosie came downstairs and sat next to him, looking innocent and elegant.

"Ignore her. You're just too kind. She locked you in the car and caused you to faint from heatstroke. She deserves some punishment." My father's eyes were icy as if he were talking about an enemy when he mentioned me.

But why? Was I not his daughter?

Alfred went into the villa's kitchen while muttering quietly to himself, "Instead of caring for his own daughter, he dotes on someone else's."

"Mr. Xavier, you're so kind. If only you were my real father." Rosie sobbed slightly as she leaned on my father's shoulder.

My father replied, "Silly girl, I'll be your father if you're willing."

"Rosie, you're a grown-up. Why are you still acting like a spoiled child?" a woman said as she appeared. It was Queenie Sutherland—the love of my father's life.

Before she showed up, I thought that my mother was the woman my father loved most. However, everything changed after my mother left.

To this day, I felt somewhat grateful that my mother passed away due to illness and did not get to see the heartless side of the man she spent her whole life loving. I figured I would see her soon. Even if I got another chance at life, I would never want to be my father's daughter again.

"Richard, a small punishment is enough. Blake is still your daughter." Queenie said.

The mother and daughter echoed each other, doing everything to appear kind. However, they would not have watched me get locked in that trunk for seven whole days and nights if they were truly kind.

What was even more ironic was that the car was a birthday gift from my father. Now, it had become my final resting place.