Chapter 5

Fourth day, fifth day, sixth day.

I had lost track of day and night. Hunger and pain no longer existed.

I smelled a strange odor emanating from my body. I knew I was dying.

Occasionally, when I was lucid, I would hear activity downstairs.

Eleanor was instructing the housekeeper to clean, preparing for Seraphina's second celebration gala. "Here, here needs to be sparkling clean! Seraphina's guests are very important, we can't have any oversight!"

"Bring out that new set of imported dinnerware, yes, the one I didn't even dare use for my own birthday."

Richard was on the phone, contacting hotels, confirming venues. "Yes, the banner needs to be prominently displayed, 'Heartfelt Congratulations to Ms. Seraphina Miller for Winning the Piano Competition Gold Medal!'"

"The lighting and music must be the best!"

Ethan was running around the living room, loudly reciting a poem he planned to perform at the gala. "My sister, the brightest star in the night sky..."

Every one of them was busy for the gala.

They had all forgotten about me, forgotten in the storage room on the top floor, or rather, they simply didn't care.

My existence was out of place. My death, too, was destined to be silent.

Seventh day.

I completely lost control of my body.

My soul seemed to float up, and I could look down and see myself, curled up motionless in the corner.

My skin had taken on a bluish-gray hue, covered in lividity.

So ugly, I thought.

Suddenly, a burst of applause and cheers erupted downstairs. "Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!"

Birthday? I paused.

Yes, it was Seraphina's birthday today. And it was also my eighteenth birthday.

The doctor said I wouldn't live past my eighteenth birthday. I made it, or rather, my body did.

"Time to cut the cake!" Ethan's excited voice carried up.

I saw a three-tiered cream cake in the center of the living room.

Seraphina stood before the cake in a princess dress, her face beaming. Richard and Eleanor stood beside her, their eyes full of doting affection.

This birthday cake, it wasn't for me.

"Seraphina, make a wish quickly!" Eleanor urged.

Seraphina closed her eyes, clasped her hands, then blew out all the candles in one breath.

Another round of cheers.

I heard someone ask, "Mr. Miller, Mrs. Miller, how come we don't see your second daughter?"

The air was silent for a moment.

Eleanor's smile stiffened, then quickly returned to normal. "Oh, Chloe isn't feeling too well, she's resting upstairs."

She lied without batting an eye.

Richard also chimed in, "Yes, that child has always been delicate since she was little, she doesn't like crowds."

After the party, the guests gradually left, and the house finally grew quiet.

Eleanor looked at the haphazardly cut cake, not much left, and seemed to finally remember something.

She frowned, a look of disgust on her face. "What a waste."

She picked up a plate of leftovers, cream smeared with saliva, and said to Richard, "I'll go call that brat downstairs. Let her taste it too, so she can't say we mistreated her."

Richard nodded, not objecting.

So, I watched Eleanor carry the plate of cake and walk up the stairs.

Bang, bang, bang!

She impatiently kicked the door. "Chloe Miller! Are you done playing dead? Do I need to invite you out?"

"Get out! This cake is even too disgusting for a dog to eat, but it's yours now!"

She cursed as she used the key to unlock the padlock.

The door was kicked open by her.

A foul stench immediately wafted from the room, a smell that even overpowered the cream cake on her plate.

"Ugh..." She instinctively gagged, covering her nose. "What's that smell... Did you... did you go to the bathroom in there? It's disgusting!"

She used the hallway light to peer at the figure huddled in the corner.

"Hmph." She sneered, thinking I was still defying her.

She put down the cake, walked in angrily, grabbed my arm, and yanked it up hard.

"Don't you dare pretend..." Her words stopped abruptly.

The sensation in her hand made her freeze. It wasn't the skin of a living person, but an indescribable texture.

Something dripped down her fingers.

She instinctively looked down, meeting a pair of cloudy, unfocused eyes.

Those eyes were staring straight at her.

And her hand was gripping a piece of flesh that had already rotted and detached.