My Parents Neglected Me Until I Died Novel by yueji

Back at home, the four of them sat in the living room, glaring at each other before collectively shifting their frustration onto me.

“That ungrateful girl, even in death she won’t leave us in peace!”

“She wasn’t our own child; how could she ever truly be on our side? Even in death, she’s still trying to make trouble for us. It’s so disheartening!”

“Aunt, her nature is like this. Anyone who gets close to her ends up unhappy.”

At that moment, Jennifer, holding her phone, suddenly shrieked and jumped up from her chair in a panic.

“Dad, it’s bad. The internet is filled with people cursing us!”

My parents quickly pulled out their phones and checked the social media platforms. The top headlines were all about me.

“Dr. Judith is so unfortunate, how could she have such parents?”

“Fortunately, the hospital kept proof; otherwise, no amount of talking could clear this up!”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen someone taking advantage of their own daughter’s tragedy like this, they deserve to be burned in the crematorium!”

“I never believed their lies from the start. They didn’t report their daughter’s death to the police but instead caused a scene at the hospital, just to extort money!”

The outcome had actually been predictable.

The rapid shift in the hospital’s position had left my father scrambling to handle the public relations crisis.

“What should we do now? If this keeps up, the internet will definitely dig up our identities!”

Jennifer’s eyes darted and said, “The online focus is all on how we didn’t care for our sister enough. If we present evidence showing we weren’t as cold-blooded as they think, we should be able to resolve the crisis!”All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

My father, genuinely panicked, completely agreed with Jennifer’s idea.

Each of them created an account, posting images and messages.

My father: “Judy, I don’t know how I’ve managed these past six months. If you could come back to life, I’d trade everything I have to make it happen.”

The accompanying image was of his tear-streaked face, with the background showing the chandelier in our villa’s living room.

The chandelier cost hundreds of thousands, enough to cover my treatment expenses for half a year.

My father’s intention was to subtly flaunt his wealth, implying that his disturbance at the hospital wasn’t for money since he was well-off.

Jennifer posted a photo of me bandaging her wounds at the hospital.

She had once used this photo to sarcastically threaten me on social media, claiming that if I left a scar on her, my parents would never forgive me.

Now, she was using it to build a sympathetic image.

“Sis, last year when I accidentally cut myself with a brow razor, you were so heartbroken. How could I live without you?”

But just their posts weren’t enough to sway the online opinion.

The real game-changer was my mother.