Chapter 1

On the day my adoptive father, Claude Bolton, is buried, my biological parents, along with the fake heiress, Gwen Walton, force their way into the funeral hall to pressure me into signing a statement of forgiveness.

They say Gwen is about to be recommended for graduate school, so she can't afford to have a disciplinary record for driving a mechanic to his death.

My biological mother, Lorna Pollard, holds my hand and cries.

"Claude is already dead. Don't ruin Gwen too."

My biological father, Joseph Walton, presses the pen into my palm.

"The dead shouldn't stand in the way of the living."

Gwen kneels in front of the casket, crying pitifully.

"Ada, I'm sorry. I didn't know Mr. Bolton would really jump off the building."

Just as I am about to sign, the funeral home calls.

They say a pearl button fell out of Dad's hand before cremation.

Meanwhile, Lorna's cuff is missing a button today.

Chapter 1

My adoptive father's casket wasn't even closed yet when the Walton family arrived.

The black Bentley stopped at the edge of the village, splashing mud onto the funeral wreaths.

I knelt before the casket, lighting candles. The flame licked my fingertips—it hurt, but I didn't pull my hand away.

The man lying in the casket was Claude Bolton. Not only was he someone who had spent his whole life repairing electric scooters, but he was also the one who had taken me home from the entrance of the welfare home.

The day before he died, he sent me a voice message.

"Ada, I'm going to the university to get your things back for you."

The next day, he fell from the university administration building.

The university said he had been emotionally agitated.

The Walton family said that after his attempt to blackmail them failed, he jumped from the building out of shame and anger.

However, Dad was afraid of heights. When the roller shutter of his repair shop broke, he would rather wait for the neighbor to come than climb the ladder himself.

How could a man like that have walked up to the rooftop on his own?

When Lorna Pollard entered the funeral hall, her eyes were reddened just enough.

She was my biological mother, the "gentle mother" in the news who had done charity work for over a decade.

She crouched in front of me and reached out to touch my face.

"Ada, I've finally found you."

I looked at the row of small pearls on her cuff, neither dodging nor moving closer.

"What do you want with me?"

Her tears fell at once.

"I know you've suffered."

Standing behind her, Joseph Walton frowned and said, "Let's get down to business first."

He was my biological father and the chairman of Walton Group.

After entering the funeral hall, he hadn't even glanced at the casket.

Lorna took a document out of her bag. It was a statement of forgiveness.

My name, Ada Bolton, had already been written on it.

Joseph said in a deep voice, "Your sister is about to be recommended for postgraduate studies, and today is the last day of the objection period. Without this statement of forgiveness, there'll be a disciplinary note on her record. Sign it first."

Sister?

I looked up.

Gwen Walton stood behind them. She was wearing a white dress, and her eyes were as red as if she had cried all night.

She bowed toward the casket.

"Ada, I'm so sorry. I really didn't know Mr. Bolton would take it so hard."

Dad's friend, Nina Kramer, came out with a cup of water, nearly dropping the mug in her hand.

"You still have the nerve to come here? Claude died because he went to the university to confront you!"

Gwen immediately shrank behind Lorna.

Matthew Walton stepped forward.

He was my biological brother, and the person Gwen always said doted on her the most.

He shot a glance at the casket, his face etched with nothing but impatience.

"Claude just exchanged a few words with Gwen. He jumped off the building himself, so how is any of that on her?"

I slowly rose to my feet.

"What do you mean, 'exchanged a few words'?"

Matthew let out a cold laugh.

"He went to her university and demanded 500 thousand dollars right off the bat. If Gwen didn't pay up, he said he'd report her for academic misconduct. What does a mechanic know about academics anyway?"

I looked Matthew straight in the eye.

"He didn't know. I was the one who wrote the paper."

Gwen went pale in the face for a moment before breaking into tears again.

"Ada, I only borrowed a few of your interviews—must you drive me to my grave?"

Borrowed?

Two years, 37 construction sites, 196 questionnaires, 26 interviews on workplace injury claims—things Dad and I had gathered riding from place to place on a beat-up electric scooter.

All that work and yet, Gwen had reduced what she did to simply "borrowing".

Lorna took my hand and said, "Ada, Gwen already knows she was wrong. Claude is gone. Don't ruin Gwen's life too."

I stared at her and asked, "Then who's going to give me back my dad?"

Lorna sobbed even harder. "I'll make it up to you. A house, a car, money, a student enrollment—I'll give you anything you want."

Joseph pressed the pen into my palm.

"Sign it, and let Claude be laid to rest today. After that, come back to the family."

I looked down at the statement of forgiveness.

"Claude Bolton took his own life due to personal reasons. Gwen Walton did not engage in any insult, threat, or coercion. I, the undersigned, voluntarily withdraw all complaints."

I lifted my head slowly.

"I'm not signing it."

Matthew's face darkened.

"Ada, don't push your luck. If you really were a good daughter, you wouldn't let the dead stand in the way of the living."

The candle flame let out a sharp pop, and the wick snapped in two.

The funeral dirge outside stopped at that moment too.

A man in blue coveralls stood at the entrance, holding a cardboard box.

"Who's Ada Bolton? Mr. Bolton left a box of things at our repair shop. He said if anything ever happened to him, it should go to his daughter."

Gwen stopped crying, the color draining from her face bit by bit.

Chapter 2

The cardboard box bore Dad's handwriting on top.

"For Ada's eyes."

His penmanship was never good, but those three words were written better than anything he had ever penned.

I sliced through the tape.

Matthew reached out to stop me.

"Now isn't the time to go through his belongings."

I looked up at him and asked, "Then when is? After I sign the statement of forgiveness?"

I opened the box. Inside lay an old phone with a cracked screen, a black pouch, a stack of handwritten documents, and the set of keys Dad had always carried with him.

The edges of the phone were stained with dried blood.

I pressed the power button, but the screen stayed black.

The man in coveralls said quietly, "The battery's dead. Mr. Bolton came to the repair shop the day before he died. He said if he didn't make it back, we were to give this to you."

My fingers tightened little by little around the phone.

Dad was afraid something would go wrong, but he went anyway. It was because he had once said, "Ada, poor people can't afford to be in the wrong. I may be uneducated, but I'll stand up for you."

Gwen suddenly stepped forward.

"Ada, shouldn't you hand these things to the police?"

I looked at her.

"What are you afraid is in there?"

Her tears fell again.

"I'm just worried you might get the wrong idea about me."

Joseph raised a hand impatiently.

"That's enough, Ada. Claude's funeral arrangements aren't even finished yet. We're willing to handle it for you so he can go with dignity."

I asked him, "Handle it how?"

Joseph replied flatly, "Cremate him or bury him—whatever's proper. Just don't let this blow up any further."

I stared at him and asked, "Why are you in such a rush?"

He didn't answer.

A few men in black suits walked in from outside and went straight to the casket. They weren't here to pay their respects, though.

Ms. Kramer's expression changed.

"What are you doing?"

Joseph smoothed his cuffs.

"Claude's remains need to be transferred to a proper funeral home. The conditions here are simply too poor. We're making the arrangements for Ada."

I stepped in front of the casket. "That won't be necessary."

Matthew grabbed my wrist and said, "Don't make a scene."

I wrenched myself free. "He's my dad. No one touches him."

Lorna burst into tears again. "Ada, I'm doing this for your own good. The burial process is very complicated, so why don't you let us take over first?"

I turned to her and said, "You take over my dad's funeral arrangements, then have me sign the statement of forgiveness. And in the end, you'll tell everyone he killed himself, that he was blackmailing you, and that he had it coming."

Her face went pale, and she was struck speechless.

Joseph had run out of patience.

"Take Ada back."

Two of the black-suited men stepped forward and seized me by the arms.

I struggled, reaching for the edge of the casket. My fingernails scraped across the wood, the pain shooting through my fingers like needles.

"Let go of me! I have to see my dad laid to rest!"

Matthew pressed down on my shoulder.

"Once tomorrow's hearing is over, you can cry all you want. But today, you're coming with us."

As I was dragged out of the funeral hall, Ms. Kramer ran after me.

"Ada, don't worry! I'll watch over Claude for you!"

The car door slammed shut.

Through the window, I saw Gwen standing at the entrance of the funeral hall. She lowered her head to wipe her tears, but the corners of her mouth curved up slightly.

Long after the car had driven off, Gwen suddenly leaned in close to me and said in a voice so low that only I could hear, "Ada, Mr. Bolton really did love you. He was calling your name right before he fell."

She let out a soft chuckle. "Too bad it was so noisy that no one heard him."

My head snapped up.

Gwen had already leaned back into Lorna's arms, sobbing so hard that her shoulders shook. It was as if she had never said those words at all.

I instinctively reached for my phone, only to remember that Matthew had taken it.

In that moment, I finally understood that Gwen wasn't afraid. On the contrary, she was gloating.

Dad had called out for me before he died, and I hadn't even heard the last cry.

Chapter 3

The Walton family's villa was enormous—so enormous that standing in the middle of the living room, I felt like a speck of dust swept in through the door.

A family portrait hung on the wall. Joseph, Lorna, Matthew, and Gwen were smiling in perfect unison.

Beside it, a glass cabinet was filled with Gwen's trophies. At the very top sat the first-place award for the statewide Innovation Project.

The project title read "A Study on the Assistance Mechanism for Accidental Injuries Among Urban Marginalized Laborers".

"Ada, do you like this project too?" Gwen asked softly.

"I know it well. After all, it's mine," I replied.

The living room fell silent in an instant.

Gwen's eyes reddened.

"Ada, I admit I referenced your interviews at the very beginning. But the subsequent analysis and defense were all done by me."

Matthew slammed his glass down on the table.

"Do you know how many all-nighters Gwen pulled for this project?"

I looked at him. "The injury cases in her defense were real materials that my father and I gathered together by going door to door. She thanked her advisors, her university, and her parents—but she never once mentioned my father."

Gwen sobbed and shook her head. "I didn't mean to. I just wanted to prove myself so badly."

Lorna held her close, pained to see her like this. "Don't cry, Gwen."

Then, she looked up at me and said, "Ada, we'll talk about this later. The hearing is tomorrow, so let's deal with your father's matter first."

Joseph placed a document in front of me.

"This is the statement you'll read tomorrow."

I looked down at it. The words were typed out, and every sentence killed Dad a second time.

"I, Ada Bolton, confirm that my adoptive father, Claude Bolton, suffered from long-term mental instability. Prior to his death, he demanded 500 thousand dollars from Gwen and became emotionally unstable after she refused. His death was an individual act of extremism and had nothing to do with Gwen. I voluntarily withdraw my complaint against Gwen."

I looked up. "You want me to personally tell everyone my dad was a blackmailer?"

"This is the best way to handle it. There's no bringing the dead back to life, and the living must move forward," Joseph replied calmly.

I laughed. "And who exactly do you mean by 'the living'?"

"If your father really cared about you, he wouldn't want you to fall out with us," Joseph retorted coldly. "Besides, what could a mere mechanic like him ever give you?"

I stared at him. "He gave me a home."

Matthew let out a derisive snort. "You call a run-down repair shop a home?"

My phone buzzed with a message from Ms. Kramer.

"Ada, Claude hasn't been taken away yet. Don't worry, I'm here with the villagers watching over him."

As I gripped my phone, my nose suddenly stung with the threat of tears.

Gwen walked over to me and said softly, "Ada, just sign it. If Mr. Bolton really loved you, he wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life consumed by hatred."

I turned to her. "Don't say his name."

She froze.

"You're not worthy of doing that," I added emphatically.

Matthew shot to his feet.

"Don't push your luck, Ada. Gwen is willing to humble herself because she's kind. But what about you? From the funeral hall until now, what have you done besides refuse to let go?"

"I'll remember every word you've said today and how you've pressured me," I said quietly. "And I'll also remember how you treated my father."

Joseph's face hardened. "Ada, don't threaten your family."

"You're not my family," I shot back softly.

…

That night, I was put up in a guest room on the second floor.

There were men stationed outside the door.

Not only were they afraid of me leaving, but they were also worried I'd call the police.

But little did they know that I had already made the call the moment I saw that box at the funeral hall.

The police had said there wasn't enough evidence for now, so I could only file a preliminary report.

I sat on the edge of the bed and plugged the charger into Dad's cracked phone. The screen lit up and went dark again. Finally, the startup screen appeared.

The passcode was my birthday.

There was a text he never managed to send.

"Ada, if I don't make it back, don't be afraid. I may be useless, but I'm not scared. We can't let them take what's yours for nothing. Whether you go back to the Walton family or not, don't ever sell yourself short."

There was nothing after that.

My tears fell onto the screen.

In the room next door, Lorna cried once—as did Gwen. They both had someone to comfort them.

Only I sat holding Dad's old phone until dawn broke.

Before sunrise, I sent another text message to the police hotline.

"If the Walton family forcibly handles the remains, please help me preserve the record of my dad's autopsy request."

After I sent it, I stared at the unfinished message on the phone screen.

Dad, this time I'd stand on my own.

Chapter 4

The next morning, I wore my mourning clothes to the university.

The Walton family had prepared a brightly colored dress for me, and Lorna personally handed it to me.

"Ada, today is a special occasion—don't dress like you're here to collect a debt."

I looked down at my black dress and said, "I am here to collect a debt."

Matthew turned around from the front seat, staring at me coldly.

"If this doesn't get settled today, don't expect Claude to be buried in peace."

Gwen was seated beside Lorna. She hadn't put on any makeup today, and her eyes were as red as if she had cried all night.

When she saw me looking at her, she immediately lowered her head.

"Ada, I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

No one in the car responded to her because everyone knew those words weren't meant for me. Instead, they were meant for them.

The hearing was held on the third floor of the administration building.

The moment I got out of the car, I saw Gwen's photo plastered right in the center of the display board.

"Outstanding Graduate. Postgraduate Recommendation Candidate. Statewide Innovation Project Lead."

When Gwen saw that photo, her tears started flowing again.

"Ada, I worked so hard to get where I am today. I can't just let it all be destroyed."

I looked at her and retorted, "My dad worked just as hard to raise me. And now he's dead."

Her sobs caught in her throat.

Matthew gripped my arm and said, "Once you're in there, just read from the script. After that, sign the statement of forgiveness, and Claude can be buried this afternoon."

"And what if I don't read it?" I asked.

He bent his head toward me. "Then we drag it out. We're not the ones who'll look bad if the body lies there any longer."

The conference room was packed with university administrators, faculty from the disciplinary committee, academic advisors, and a few student representatives.

The moment Gwen walked in, people immediately murmured words of comfort to her.

"Gwen, don't be afraid. We all believe you. What does it have to do with you if that mechanic chose to end his own life?"

I stood at the doorway, listening to them toss around "that mechanic" like it was nothing.

Suddenly, I remembered how Ms. Kramer had straightened Dad's collar at the funeral home last night and said through tears, "Claude never had many nice clothes in his life. Even this outfit was something Ada bought for him."

The university's deputy secretary, Leslie Rowe, spoke first.

"Ada, the university is holding a hearing today regarding your complaint about Gwen's academic misconduct and the death of your adoptive father, Mr. Claude Bolton. As the family member of the deceased, is there anything you'd like to add?"

Joseph slid the statement in front of me.

"I, Ada Bolton, confirm that my adoptive father, Claude Bolton, suffered from long-term mental instability. Prior to his death, he demanded 500 thousand dollars from Gwen and became emotionally unstable after she refused. His death was an individual act of extremism and had nothing to do with Gwen. I voluntarily withdraw my complaint against Gwen."

My fingers slowly curled into a fist.

Lorna looked at me with red-rimmed eyes.

"Ada, just read it. After you do, Mommy will go with you to see Claude off."

It was the first time she had ever called herself "Mommy" so gently, yet it was only to make me brand Dad as a money-crazed lunatic with my own mouth.

Gwen stood up and bowed deeply to me.

"Ada, I'm sorry. But Mr. Bolton really did ask me for money. If I had known he would jump, I would have never provoked him."

Matthew steadied her and shot me a cutting look.

"Gwen has already humbled herself—how much more do you want to push her?"

Someone in the conference room sighed.

"Gwen's had it rough too. It's really unlucky for her to be stuck with a family like that."

I looked down at the statement.

Dad was barely literate. In fact, he could barely even use a smartphone.

Every time he messaged me, it was always a voice note.

"Ada, have you eaten?"

"Ada, do you have enough money?"

"Ada, I fixed three scooters today and made 280 dollars."

And yet, they claimed a man like that had typed out a blackmail demand for 500 thousand dollars?

I picked up the statement. Everyone in the Walton family fixed their eyes on me, and Gwen had stopped crying.

I began, "I, Ada Bolton, confirm that my adoptive father, Claude Bolton—"

I stopped.

Matthew stood behind me, his hand pressing down on my shoulder with gradually increasing force.

"Read it."

My phone suddenly rang, but Matthew snatched it out of my hand.

"Turn it off."

I caught a glimpse of the caller ID. It was Ms. Kramer.

I shot to my feet and said, "Give it back to me."

The disciplinary committee officer, Robin Glover, frowned and said, "Mr. Walton, give her the phone."

Matthew reluctantly let go.

I pressed answer, and Ms. Kramer's sobs burst through the speaker.

"Ada, come back quick! The Walton family sent people to take your father away!"

I froze on the spot.

"Where are they taking him?"

"The crematorium! They said you agreed, that you signed the papers, and that he'd be cremated this morning! We couldn't stop them!"

I whipped my head toward Joseph. There wasn't a trace of surprise on his face.

Lorna lowered her head, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag tightly.

Matthew said coldly, "The body has to be dealt with sooner or later. You keep dragging your feet on signing—were you just going to let him rot in that funeral hall?"

A deafening buzz exploded in my ears.

It wasn't Dad's peace they cared about. What scared them was the thought of him lying there too peacefully, still able to wait for an autopsy and leave evidence behind.

Clutching the phone, I asked in a trembling voice, "Who signed it?"

Chaos erupted on the other end of the line.

Then, a strange man's voice came through.

"Ms. Bolton? I'm the mortician from the funeral home. Your father's body cannot be cremated."

Matthew's expression changed instantly. He reached for the phone, but I stepped back and turned on the speaker.

The mortician's voice echoed through the conference room.

"While identifying the body, we found that the deceased had something clutched in his right hand. During the transfer, his fingers loosened and a button fell out.

"There were also visible scratches and grab marks on the back of his neck and wrists. The specifics will need to be determined by a forensic examiner, but I suggest you call the police immediately and request that the body be preserved."

Joseph shot to his feet.

"This is ridiculous! What gives a mortician the right to spout such nonsense?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"I'm not making any judgments. I'm simply telling the family of the deceased that the button clutched in her father's hand may be very important."

"What kind of button is it?" I asked emphatically.

"A pearl button," the mortician replied.

The bag in Lorna's hand dropped to the floor with a thud. The sound was faint, yet it landed like a blow on everyone's eardrums.

I slowly turned my head to look at her.

She was wearing a black suit today.

On the right cuff, where the last pearl button should have been, there was now an ordinary white button sewn in its place.

The stitching was fresh, as if it had been mended just last night.

On the other end of the line, the mortician added in a low voice, "There's one more thing. Under that button was half a sheet of paper soaked through with blood. Only one word was legible—'paternity'."

The conference room fell deathly silent.

I stared at the newly sewn white button on Lorna's cuff for a very long time—so long that Gwen began to tremble, the color completely drained from Matthew's face, and the door to the conference room was pushed open from the outside.

Two uniformed officers stood at the doorway.

One of them turned to me and asked, "Are you Ada Bolton? We've received a follow-up on the incident report you previously filed."

I looked down at the statement on the table—the one the Walton family had wanted me to read. Then, I picked it up and tore it into pieces.

The scraps of paper fell to the ground, like the candle wax from the last bundle of candles I had burned for Dad.

After that, I raised my head and looked at Lorna.

"Mom."

It was the first time I had ever called her that.

Her whole body jolted, and tears spilled down her face in an instant.

"Did you already know I was your daughter?" I asked.