You Wanted Me to Die? Fine.

Scarlett's POV

After my family's company went bankrupt, my father was diagnosed with a rare heart condition. My stepmother and stepsister fled overnight to escape the debts.

I dropped out of school, shouldered the astronomical debt, and took on the burden of my critically ill father's remaining years.

Over five years, debt collectors broke my ribs, I couldn't bear to buy painkillers. I collapsed while working my fifth job and had that day's wages withheld entirely. Every penny went toward imported medicine to keep my father alive.

Until I worked as a temporary server at the Hilton Hotel's banquet hall and saw my father, who was supposed to be bedridden on oxygen.

He wore an expensive suit, champagne glass in hand, laughing and chatting with several business partners.

"David, you've been faking this heart condition for five years now. Scarlett's worn herself to the bone buying you medicine—hasn't the punishment gone on long enough?"

My father swirled his wine glass and sneered.

"If Scarlett hadn't opposed my remarriage back then, hadn't publicly humiliated Vivian at the wedding, I wouldn't have needed to fake bankruptcy and illness to make Vivian happy. That child is sensitive, has depression—I had to make her feel I was completely on her side."

The tray in my hands began to tremble.

"But it's almost over," my father took a sip of wine. "Shirley called yesterday saying Vivian's been having a wonderful time in Nice and has agreed to forgive Scarlett. Soon I'll make my 'recovery,' and then I'll restore Scarlett's status as the Pembroke family's young lady. It'll be what she gets for paying the price of her willfulness."

Someone hesitated, "But making all your friends refuse to lend her money, wasn't that too harsh? Last week she knelt at my company entrance for three hours trying to get money."

My father's expression darkened. "Did you lend it to her?"

"Of course not! Just as you said—I didn't help even when she fainted. But David, she's your own daughter!"

"Precisely because she's my own daughter, I need to teach her to be sensible." My father cut him off, his tone ice-cold. "Vivian and Shirley have no blood relation to me, so they naturally lack security. As my daughter, Scarlett should yield even more. These five years are the lesson she deserved."

He swept his gaze across the room, voice lowered but clear.

"Listen carefully, all of you. Until I bring Shirley and Vivian back, no one is to help Scarlett. Whether she's kneeling or begging, even if she dies in front of you, don't lift a finger. Anyone who makes my precious daughter Vivian unhappy will see their entire family made unhappy by me."

Someone laughed awkwardly, "Aren't you afraid Scarlett will learn the truth and leave you?"

My father looked as if he'd heard a joke.

"What are you talking about? We're father and daughter—blood ties can't be severed. Scarlett treasures me like her life. Even if I held a knife to her throat, she wouldn't leave."

The tray slipped from my hands.

The dull thud of stainless steel hitting carpet startled everyone in the private room. I turned and ran, only to collide with manager Sam at the hallway corner.

The expensive bottle of red wine in his hands shattered on impact.

Deep red wine splattered all over my uniform.

"Are you blind?!" Sam exploded in fury.

The private room door opened at that exact moment.

I froze in place, watching my father stride out quickly, but he walked right past us and swept a blonde girl who had just rushed out of the elevator into his arms.

"Daddy!" Vivian threw herself into his embrace, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Surprised? I came back early!"

My father stroked her hair, his gaze holding a tenderness I hadn't seen in five years.

"Why didn't you let me pick you up? Are you tired? Do you want to get a full spa treatment first?" He kissed her cheek. "Where's your mother? Why didn't she come back with you?"

"Mom said she wants to stay and play in France a bit longer. I missed you so I came back early!" She nuzzled against him like a kitten. "Daddy, did you miss me?"

My father laughed, "How could I not miss you? You're my precious treasure."

I knelt two steps away from them, wearing a server's cap and mask.

Memories pierced my mind like shattered glass.

On my tenth birthday, my father had stroked my hair the same way, calling me his little princess.

But now, the same tenderness, the same embrace, the same kisses—all given to someone else.

And I knelt two steps away from them, covered in wine stains, like a stray dog.

The rhinestones on Vivian's high heels sparkled painfully in my eyes.

One stone could buy half a month's worth of my father's imported medicine.

Sam's trembling voice interrupted, "Mr. Pembroke, my deepest apologies. Your wine was smashed by this idiot..."

My father finally turned his head. I didn't dare look up, didn't dare let them recognize me.

"Daddy," Vivian leaned against his shoulder, saying sweetly, "this server is really an eyesore."

My father patted her hand.

When he looked at me again, his eyes were cold as ice.