Chapter 1

My 18th birthday ended with my death.

The killers were my stepmother, Sheila Coleman, and her lover, William Lynch, who was also my dad Richard Wade's friend.

As my soul rose, I watched them struggle to drag my body across the floor. They took out a saw they had clearly prepared in advance and began cutting me apart.

Sheila kicked my head like trash under her shoe. "You little bitch. Weren't you so stubborn? Didn't you want to go find your dead mom? Fine. I'll send you to her."

She was still bitter over my calling her a mistress that morning. I wasn't wrong. If she hadn't interfered, my mom would still be alive, and I wouldn't have been left alone. She was a homewrecker.

From their conversation, I learned they planned to take all of Dad's assets for themselves. After killing me, Dad would be next.

His wife and his so-called friend were sleeping together right under his nose, calmly discussing how to kill me first, then him.

It was ridiculous.

That morning, we had gotten into a huge fight over my mom's belongings. Dad grabbed me by the hair and threatened me, saying, "You're the one who doesn't belong in this family. If you dare disrespect your mother again, get out of this house!"

I said my mom was already dead.

Amid Sheila's sharp, venomous insults, Dad flew into a rage. He slapped me hard across the face, threw my mom's scarf at me, and told me to take it and get lost.

I picked it up and walked out without looking back.

The beige scarf I had held to my chest that morning became the noose around my neck that afternoon in Sheila's hands.

She was still not satisfied. After whispering something to William, they removed my leg bones separately and buried the rest of my body on the spot.

"Richard loves bone art, doesn't he?" Sheila said with a sneer. "Carve a piece out of this little bitch's femur and give it to him. He'll be overjoyed."

My femur was sent off to be polished and crafted into a one-of-a-kind bone sculpture. It was placed in a silk-lined box and given away as a gift.

When Dad saw it, his eyes lit up with delight. He turned the piece back and forth under the light, studying every detail. "This is remarkable," he said. "Will, where did you find it?"

"I knew you'd like it," William said with a grin, glancing at Sheila. "I had a friend source it. They say it's made in Khastan. You rarely see anything this exquisite."

Dad could barely hide his excitement. He clasped William's hand tightly. "I knew you were the only one who truly gets me. This is magnificent. If there's ever anything you need, I'll make it happen."

William's face lit up. "That project on the east side…"

"It's yours," Dad said, waving the matter off. "With a gift like this, how could I even think of competing with you?"

Truly, it was an incredibly generous gift.

As William and Sheila glanced at each other, Dad struck me as almost laughable, like a bad joke.

At that moment, Dad's phone rang. It was the housekeeper, Mary Lane. "Mr. Wade, Ms. Wade hasn't come home for several days. Should we…"

"If she wants to come back, fine. If she dies out there, even better," Dad snapped, absentmindedly rubbing the bone sculpture. "If she calls, tell her this. Unless she kneels down and apologizes to Sheila, she can forget about stepping into this house again."