Chapter 4

But Brown suddenly said:

"I saw William get up to eat yesterday."

Charlotte paused and slowly turned around.

She repeated: "He got up yesterday?"

Brown nodded, his expression somewhat awkward.

"Yeah, I talked to him but he ignored me and even told me to get out..."

Charlotte's face immediately became extremely ugly.

She sneered twice and sat back down.

"I knew it. He's faking it. Looks like he was just pretending to love Drake all along. He almost killed Drake!"

I floated above, smiling bitterly. I wasn't faking illness—I was really dead.

Watching the triumphant smile on Brown's lips, I really wanted to know if he could still smile when the truth came out.

I floated back home and stayed with my corpse for a few more hours.

My phone suddenly made a sound. It was my mother.

Not having received a message from me for two days, she must have sensed something was wrong.

She called three times in a row before the ringing finally stopped.

Sure enough, within half an hour, she rushed over.

Breathing rapidly, face tense, she came in and went straight to the bedroom.

"William, William?"

Not finding anyone, she went to the guest room, finally entering the nursery.

"Ah! William!"

A shrill scream pierced the sky.

The rest of the scene was too painful for me to watch.

Mom cried inconsolably, holding me and rocking back and forth.

"How could you bear to leave me alone! How am I supposed to live!"

Several hours later, Mom took me away.

When the door opened again, it was Charlotte reeking of alcohol.

She pushed away Brown who was supporting her and headed straight for the nursery.

"William, how long are you going to keep playing dead!"

As her words fell, she froze in place.

The bed was empty. I was already dead.

Her heart spasmed twice.

She sneered: "Can't keep it up anymore? Now you've learned to run away from home! Then get lost and never come back."

She returned to the living room and plopped down.

Brown curled his lip in disgust:

"Walking away is one thing, but making the house smell so bad—it really makes me want to vomit."

Charlotte seemed not to hear. Something occurred to her and she walked to the bedroom, yanking open the closet.

All my clothes inside were untouched. She instantly felt relieved.

"I thought you had some backbone, but you didn't even take your clothes. You just want me to come begging, don't you? Keep dreaming."

She relaxed and even let Brown move in.

"Since he doesn't care, let's see how long he can hold out."

I looked on coldly, my soul floating in the room.

Over the next few days, Charlotte lived it up, taking Brown to all kinds of public venues.

But she didn't become happier—instead, she grew increasingly gloomy.

Finally, on the seventh day of my disappearance, she couldn't hold out anymore.

She brought Drake back.

She opened my Twitter and ordered Drake to call for daddy.

Drake was frightened and didn't speak.

Charlotte's face darkened as she roared:

"Call him! Are you deaf? I told you to call for daddy! Do you hear me!"

Drake's fear reached its peak. He burst into tears with a wail.

I was filled with rage, wishing I could flay her alive.

Drake was only a four-year-old child. To torture me, she would do anything!

"Daddy, daddy, daddy..."

Charlotte got what she wanted and sent the voice message.

"William, do you still want your child or not? Are you just going to let him cry like this as his father?"

Brown came over and hugged her, his voice gentle:

"Don't be angry, Charlotte. Since he's so heartless, why do you still care about him? This kind of person doesn't deserve to be a father."

Charlotte was silent for a long time. She looked at her phone, which still showed no response.

She couldn't hold back anymore and directly called me.

Once, twice, three times—nothing changed. Still no answer.

With a bang, Charlotte smashed her phone.