Chapter 6 "Mr. Sinclair, are you deaf or insane? I've made it very clear that Ms. Cynthia Sinclair is dead!" Joseph let out a cold laugh. "What kind of trick is she playing now? She's even faking her death now?" The doctor ended the call directly, her chest heaving violently as she couldn't help but curse under her breath. "Hopeless fool." I floated beside her, nodding in agreement. I should've disappeared after death, but for some reason, my soul remained in this world. I felt no sorrow nor joy, only the calm detachment of a spectator. Well then, I would see how they would handle my death. After the call ended, Joseph and Thomas looked at each other. "She's dead? This is getting more ridiculous by the minute," Joseph sneered. Thomas felt somewhat guilty. "City General Hospital wouldn't cooperate with her lies." Sarah happened to return from outside, looking worried. "What's wrong?" Joseph said briefly, "The hospital says Cynthia is dead." Sarah's expression stiffened for a moment, but she quickly put on a shocked look. "How could that be? Even if Cynthia is really allergic to the cake, she only had one bite. Besides, I couldn't find her at the hospital. She probably went somewhere to have fun." Her acting was truly excellent. I couldn't help but applaud her. For once, Joseph didn't readily believe her lies and was frowning thoughtfully. "Cynthia is indeed allergic to mango and peanuts, but... it shouldn't be that severe." Thomas was silent for a while, then suddenly said, "Alright, I think we've been neglecting her lately. I didn't realize her allergies had gotten bad enough to require hospitalization." Joseph's gaze fell on the medicine box in the corner. He suddenly remembered that when he first brought me home and hadn't yet learned about my mango allergy, he had fed me a small bite. I had broken out in rashes all over and cried from discomfort for a long time. Thomas also remembered something. "Joseph, do you remember the first time Cynthia baked us peanut cookies..." Joseph immediately got the reference. I often made peanut cookies because they loved them, but I was actually allergic to peanuts. Every time I finished baking, my hands would be red and swollen for days. Both men fell silent. I watched them, unable to tell if what I felt was sorrow or anger. "I suddenly want some peanut cookies," Thomas said quietly. "Alright, alright." Joseph stood up. "Let's go check on our little troublemaker who ran away and got the hospital to lie for her." Their tone was affectionate, as if I were just a child throwing a tantrum and waiting for them to coax me back. "What?" This scene stung Sarah. She cried out and quickly tried to stop them. 1/3 +25 Bonus Joseph shrugged and smiled at Sarah, whose expression had suddenly frozen. "Be good and wait for us to come back. We'll bring you a present." "No, no, wait..." Sarah tried to stop them, but the two men had already stridden away. On the way to the hospital, Joseph looked at the car air freshener I had made by hand, his tone unconsciously softening. "Thomas, I remember Cynthia likes macarons. Should we pick some up on the way?" Thomas glanced at him with amusement. "Joe, the bakery and the hospital are in opposite directions." Despite his words, he still made the turn. Joseph's lips curved upward. "She never stays mad at us for long. Once she gets something she likes, she'll come home obediently." Unfortunately, I was dead, and dead people couldn't eat macarons. I floated in the back seat, listening to them discuss how to coax me with sweets, and how they'd need to properly educate me once I came home because getting the hospital to lie for me was too much. I began to eagerly anticipate the moment they saw my corpse. When they reached the hospital, they headed straight to the front desk. They learned that the emergency department had treated a young lady with a severe allergic reaction before and hurried toward the third-floor emergency wing. As the elevator doors were closing, a figure rushed in. It was Sarah. Both men were shocked. "Sarah? Didn't we tell you to wait at home?" Sarah was out of breath, clearly having run all the way there. She was panicking inside and couldn't wait calmly at home. At this moment, she said, "I'm worried about Cynthia too." Worried about me? I watched her nervous, darting eyes and understood. She was worried about leaving traces of herself at the crime scene. They tried to persuade her to go back, but the elevator dinged. They had reached the emergency department. With each brother carrying a box of macarons, they rushed out. The emergency department was noisy as they searched ward after ward. Even so, there was nothing. The more they searched, the more agitated they became. Sarah watched them getting closer and closer to the ward where I had died, desperately pulling at both men. "Let's go home! Cynthia really isn't here. She must've lied to you!" Joseph frowned at her. "She had an allergic reaction, and she has no money. If she's not in the hospital, where else could she go?" Sarah was so desperate that she said without thinking, "Maybe she found a bad boyfriend and eloped with him!" Thomas noticed how frantic Sarah was acting. It seemed unusual. As they stood there in deadlock, the door to the last ward suddenly opened. The doctor who had shown me kindness stood in the doorway, looking at them coldly. "You finally came." 2/3 Chapter 6 Joseph strode forward. "Did you call me? Where is she?" The doctor saw that Sarah was there too and smiled sarcastically. "Follow me." +25 Bonus She walked quickly toward the elevator and pressed the button for the basement floor. Joseph frowned. "Hey, you pressed the wrong button. There are no patient wards in the basement." Only the morgues would be in the basement. The doctor didn't bother explaining. When the doors opened, she walked out briskly. "Keep up." The deeper they went, the heavier their hearts became. Even Sarah began to tremble. The doctor finally stopped in front of a small morgue room. "She's in here." Joseph flew into a rage. "How dare you play games with us? Do you know that 40% of this hospital's shares belong to the Sinclair family?" Thomas gripped the macaron box tightly and simply pushed past them to open the door directly. My corpse lay quietly on the bed, eyes wide open in death. The box fell from Joseph's hands, and colorful macarons scattered across the floor. He whispered in disbelief, "Cynthia?"