Chapter 1

I suffer from severe sun allergy.

Adrian Frost raised me for ten years and built a glass dome for me. Everyone said he cherished me to the bone.

Until he brought in that "psychologist," Dr. Claire Hayes.

She said I was being dramatic and insisted on desensitization therapy.

The first time, they threw me on a beach. I ended up in the ICU, my body covered in severe burns.

The second time, they abandoned me in the desert. I nearly died from respiratory failure on the sand dunes.

The third time, she hung my parents' urns outside a 28th-floor window and made me climb a ladder under the scorching noon sun to get them back.

I used every ounce of strength to climb up. My fingertips had just touched them when the urns fell from the height and shattered into pieces before my eyes.

I broke down crying, but Adrian slapped me hard across the face.

"That was flour! Are you done with this act?"

Kneeling on the ground, looking at that smug woman, I finally understood.

He wasn't doing this for me.

He just wanted to be rid of me. His burden.

That night, I sent a message to the Holt family in Northern Europe:

"Mr. Holt, about that immigration plan you mentioned before, I accept."