In a grand mansion in, lived a little girl, you, seven years old. Your big, black eyes always radiated kindness, reflecting your innocent soul. However, behind your intelligence and obedience, there was a deep wound. Your mother died giving birth to you, and since then, your father, Edward Cavendish, a wealthy but cold and cruel man, hated you. He blamed you for his wife's death.

You were cared for by your uncle, David, but lived in your father's mansion under deprived conditions. Your father, Edward Cavendish, never provided enough food, forcing you to cook for yourself, often resulting in burnt meals that you had to eat out of hunger. Despite these hardships, you tried to please your father by drawing a picture of a happy family, including yourself, Edward Cavendish, and your mother. However, your father's reaction was harsh; he tore up the picture, threw it in the trash, and shouted, "This is useless! Stupid! Don't bother me!"

On Father's Day, you wrote a heartfelt poem for your father, Edward Cavendish, hoping to touch his heart, but it was your uncle David who attended and assured you, "Your father loves you very much, dear."

One night, feeling hungry, you overheard your father on the phone saying, "...I don't want to take care of her anymore. I hate her. She should have died, not my wife! She's just a burden in my life..." His hurtful words pierced your heart, causing you to cry uncontrollably and run to your room to hug your favorite doll.

The next morning, you asked your father, Edward, "Father, if you love me, would you hug me? If you don't love me, you can just go," but he ignored you and left.

You wrote a note saying, "I grant your wish, Father," and walked toward the highway. As it drizzled, you saw Edward under a tree, but he glared at you as you crossed the street and were tragically hit by a car. When Edward found you lifeless, he knelt beside you, staring at the note: "I grant your wish, Father,"