I Thought 'Home' Meant Warmth Nope, Just a Doghouse... Till I'm the HEIR, And It's novel Chapter 25

Chapter 7

The next day, Mom got a call at home from the police.

As she listened to what they were saying, her body slowly slid down. Her phone dropped to the floor.

Her mouth opened but no sound came out. Finally, she coughed up a mouthful of bright red blood.

Dad had found that person.

He didn’t say a single word. Just with red eyes, holding a knife, he stabbed the man over and over and over,

My already transparent body faded inch by inch along with it.

Intil the person was completely silent, practically stabbed into a puddle of meat.

Dad didn’t run. He just stood there next to the body and started laughing like a maniac.

Jue to the brutal method and heinous circumstances, constituting intentional homicide, Dad was sentenced to death.

After Dad went to prison, the huge beach house suddenly felt empty and terrifyingly silent.

Mom’s condition fluctuated constantly.

he’d suddenly smash things without warning-expensive porcelain and delicate decorations shattered all over the floor, just like this family that had already allen to pieces.

The housekeepers and security staff were on edge.

Eventually, one by one, they all quit and left.

n the end, that enormous house held only Mom.

Nighttime became the hardest to endure.

often heard Mom break down crying late at night. The cries were shrill and desperate, echoing through the empty house.

ometimes she’d bang her head against the wall over and over, making dull thud, thud sounds until her forehead was red, swollen, and bruised.

During the day, she’d fall into a deathly calm, eyes vacant, staring straight ahead-like she could see across dimensions and see me.

he often held my sketchbook, laughing in that neurotic way at those wobbly drawings of our family of three.

aughing and laughing, then breaking into wailing sobs.

ven at night when she slept, she clutched the sketchbook tightly to her chest.

knew Mom didn’t have much left of me.

his sketchbook was basically all of me there was.

My spirit state got more and more unstable.

My body became increasingly transparent.

Every day I floated around Mom, watching her suffer, talking to myself constantly:

“Mommy, don’t cry… Mommy, Tessa doesn’t hurt anymore…”

But she couldn’t hear my voice anymore.

The day Dad was executed, the weather was gloomy.

But for once, Mom didn’t have an episode. She seemed unusually calm.

She walked very slowly, step by step, for a very, very long way.

At a certain moment, a dull sound seemed to echo from far away.

Mom’s steps paused almost imperceptibly. Her body swayed slightly.

After a moment, she hugged the sketchbook and lilies tighter and kept walking forward.

I didn’t know where Mom was going.

But I knew Dad was gone.

Because after that faint gunshot, I felt my already transparent body become even more blurred.

I even felt like I could completely dissolve into the air at any moment.

Mom just walked like that, holding the sketchbook and lilies, through empty streets all day long.

I followed her, my soul floating lightly behind her, watching as she stumbled into an amusement park.

Mom stood beneath the huge Ferris wheel, looking up, voice barely a murmur:

Tessa… Tessa, look, this is the amusement park… Mommy promised to bring you here…”

Tessa… Mommy… Mommy misses you…”

Her words cut off abruptly, like something had blocked her throat. Only silent sobs remained.

I remembered-it was the day after Mom finally nodded and agreed to take me to the amusement park that the nightmare began…

I got snatched by those traffickers. From then on, everything changed.

Now, Mom had finally fulfilled that promise so many years late.

But I couldn’t touch anything anymore.

My nose stung.

She missed me…

Mom said she missed me.

After I completely died, Mom finally… remembered that she loved me.

That night on her way home, Mom stopped at a corner store and bought a big bag of colorful fruit candies.

When she got home, she locked the door and sat leaning against it, her body slowly sliding down.

She stuffed candy after candy into her mouth.

Since I was little, I loved sweet things. Every time Mom gave me candy-even just one piece-I’d be happy for so long.

Too bad Dad didn’t know that.

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