After I Died in A Shipping Container

Trapped in a sweltering 40-degree sauna room, I overheard my older brothers talking outside.

My second-oldest brother, Sean Lambert, remarked, "This kid is too stubborn. We need to teach her a lesson."

My third-oldest brother, Jacob Lambert, replied, "The temperature has been adjusted. She won't die."

I was locked up alone for 72 hours. It was their way of punishing me because of my stepsister. Yet, they were the ones who used to love me the most.

My father was a business tycoon, my eldest brother, Axel Lambert, was skilled in finance, Sean was a legal expert, and Jacob was a medical prodigy. My mother passed away after fulfilling her mission, leaving these four men to look after me.

They once showered me with love like I was their precious gem, until I turned five. That's when my stepmother and her daughter came into the picture, and I was banished to the housekeeper's room. Their attention shifted entirely to my stepsister. Whenever she cried, my father would bring out the punishment box for me to draw lots.

72 hours passed, but no one came to open the door.

Before I blacked out, a few lines of small text popped up before my eyes: [The minor character is about to die. Once she dies, she can be reunited with her mother.]

In that case, I gave up hope and quietly closed my eyes.

Just when I thought I was finally free, the door was pulled open with a bang. A large hand effortlessly lifted me. My arm was gripped so tightly it hurt, but I did not even have the strength to struggle.

"Come out if you're not dead yet," Sean said coldly as he dragged me out.

My legs were weak, so I could not stand on my feet. I fell to the floor, hitting my forehead, which stung.

However, Sean only looked condescendingly at me. "Quit faking it. Get up and apologize to Cynthia."

He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the living room.

My head was spinning, and my throat was parched. I stumbled as he dragged me. And yet, he used to be the gentlest to me; even the smallest scrape would make him ache for me.

In the living room, my father held my stepsister, Cynthia, as though she was a precious treasure. Axel and Jacob sat on the couch nearby.

The moment I stepped in, all gazes locked onto me.

My father's eyes were like shards of ice. "Do you understand what you've done?"

Cynthia buried her face in my father's arms, sobbing softly, her body trembling as if she had been deeply wronged.

Axel's voice was icy. "Estelle Lambert, if you continue to rely on our affection to gain attention by hurting Cynthia, don't blame us for sending you away."

I stood there in a daze. My dress was still soaked with sweat, clinging damply to my body as I shivered. Their words stung my ears like needles. I had not done anything wrong.

It was not like this before. If I fell back then, my father would anxiously pick me up, blow on my knee, and say, "Alright, alright. Daddy's here, the pain will fly away."

Sean would magically pull sweet chocolates from his pocket to cheer me up.

Jacob would immediately take out his small first-aid kit, carefully disinfecting and bandaging my wound, his movements as light as a feather.

Even when Axel was busy, he would carry me to his desk, let me play with his pen, and then pat my head.

However, everything changed after our beautiful stepmother, on her deathbed, held our father's hand and tearfully entrusted Cynthia to him.