Dallas Monroe, a billionaire, announced publicly that he intended to locate his 100 biological children, born from his years of sperm donations. My best friend Amber found out she was one of his children and wanted to claim her connection with him. Out of concern, I warned her that Monroe was critically ill, and the reunion might be a front for something else. She listened and didn’t pursue the reunion. But then Monroe passed away, and every recognized child inherited millions. Amber blamed me for ruining her chance at a fortune and stabbed me to death. When I opened my eyes again, it was the very day Amber had come to tell me about her father. I was jolted awake by someone shaking me. Blinking my eyes open, I saw Amber Reed leaning over my bed, face flushed with excitement. “Jess, can you believe it? I’m actually Dallas Monroe’s daughter!” I flinched, instinctively leaning back to avoid her too-close proximity. My fingers brushed my throat, and a faint memory clawed its way back—the suffocating feeling of Amber’s crazed attack when she plunged that knife into my neck. My breathing hitched. Exactly like before, Amber was gesturing wildly as she told me the story. Her dad, suffering from infertility, had turned to a donor program. She was born from a high-quality donor’s sperm. And just yesterday, Dallas Monroe had gone public with his donation history, stating he wanted to reconnect with the children who shared his genes. Every recognized child, she explained, would be entitled to inherit his estate. “My DNA matches his exactly! Jess, I’m his daughter! Do you think I should go and claim my inheritance?” Amber’s face lit up with anticipation. She’d always been more interested in wealth than reality, spending college aiming to bag a rich guy and settle into a comfortable life. But rich guys didn’t marry girls like her—they just had fun. So, in that past life, when she discovered she was Monroe’s daughter, she was dead set on pursuing her “heiress dream.” But back then, I found out that Monroe was terminally ill and that there were almost a hundred children in line. Out of concern for her, I advised her not to rush it. “I’ve heard that some wealthy people use DNA matches like these to cultivate ‘genetic donors’—you know, personal blood banks or even organ donors. It’s strange he’d be reaching out now, right when he’s this sick. You might want to hold off,” I said. Amber brushed it off, but after a few of the so-called “heirs” went mysteriously missing, she got scared and thanked me profusely for warning her. “You saved me, Jess! I could’ve been toast without you. You’re the best!” This girl, who once said I was her “best friend,” later became convinced I was the one standing in the way of her fortune. When she failed to win over Ryan Cooper, and then learned that all the recognized children got the inheritance after Monroe died, she blamed me for the life she thought she’d been cheated out of. On my birthday, she’d come at me with a knife, stabbing my throat over and over, cursing furiously: “If it weren’t for you! If you hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve been the billionaire’s heiress! Ryan wouldn’t have left me, and I wouldn’t be living this miserable life!” “Jessica Walker! This is all your fault! Die!” What she didn’t know was that, the same day she killed me, the police released a statement exposing Monroe’s scheme. The sperm donations had been real, but the reunions were fake. Every child who’d reconnected with him had been a lab rat for a new medical experiment. Yes, inheritance rights were promised, but Monroe’s “illness” and “death” were fabricated. He’d already hidden his assets and was planning his fake death and escape. The only thing left behind was millions in debt, not a single cent of inheritance. But Amber never got to hear that truth from me. She’d already killed me. Amber’s twisted, hate-filled face from that day flashed in my memory, overlapping with her current, eager expression. This time, I only smirked. “Congrats.” Some people just can’t be saved. I chose to let fate take its course.
Amber looked smug, like she’d already planned out her entire fairytale life as an heiress. “Tomorrow, I’m going to that DNA testing lab Monroe announced. When it’s confirmed that I’m his daughter, I’ll finally be moving out of this dump.” She gave our apartment a once-over, grimacing. “I’ll make Dad buy me a real house. I’m not staying cramped in this worn-out place. It’s dirty, the neighbors are trash, and it’s just gross.” I held back a laugh, thinking of how she had zero job prospects and no money when she’d practically begged me to live with her. She’d never once paid a dime in rent, and all she did was freeload. From washing dishes to taking out the trash, I’d had to nag her three times over to lift a finger. She called it “helping me out,” but she barely ever did anything. Honestly, letting her move out would be perfect. Whatever mess she got into wouldn’t be my problem. I nodded eagerly. “You’re right, this place is way below you. I doubt your billionaire dad would want you slumming it here either.” Amber looked even more pleased, grinning as though I’d just confirmed her every hope. “Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance to shine. Drive me to the testing center tomorrow,” she said, cocking an eyebrow. I raised mine right back, not missing a beat. “My car’s still in the shop. Why don’t you ask your boyfriend? Once he knows who you are, he’ll probably be thrilled to help.” That hit a nerve. Amber had recently snagged a boyfriend from a wealthy family and was constantly flaunting her designer handbags, but she knew he was just playing around. She shot me an irritated look before plastering on a self-satisfied smile. “Fine. I mean, he’s practically my match anyway. He can drive me. He should get to see the kind of place I’ll be living in soon,” she replied, sauntering off to her room. In my last life, that boyfriend dumped her after flaunting her around a bit, then married his family’s choice. When she tried to make a scene at his company, his fiancée publicly humiliated her, calling her a wannabe Cinderella. Back then, I’d actually tried to comfort her, not realizing she blamed me for talking her out of meeting Monroe. In her mind, it was my fault she’d missed out on her golden ticket. Not this time. I was keeping my hands clean. As soon as she shut her door, I sent a message to my boss, took the day off, and scheduled a moving company. By the time Amber left the next day, I had packed everything I owned. Once the lease ended, she could deal with the apartment however she wanted. Avoiding toxic people is the first rule of happiness. When you meet someone like that, don’t fight. Just walk away.
After spending the whole morning moving into my new place, my phone buzzed with Amber’s call. “Jess, they gave me this bottle of pills to take before the DNA match can be processed. Since you’re in medical school, can you check if there’s anything weird in these pills?” Amber’s bossy tone grated at me. She was always like this, expecting me to do favors for her family or friends, to cover their costs, to use my time for her benefit. I’d drop everything to help her, and she never showed the slightest gratitude. I replied, “That’s not exactly my field, Amber. Besides, since Legacy Medical produces the pills, you’d need to go through them for testing. That’d cost you thousands.” That got her attention. “Testing, really? Come on, Jess! You’re supposed to be my best friend, and you’re asking for money?” I stifled a laugh. She just wanted a scapegoat if something went wrong, someone to take the fall. And I wasn’t about to hand her that. She kept going. “You’re so heartless! Don’t you remember how I pulled you out of that fire all those years ago?” I’d had enough. “Amber, are you really the one who saved me?” Back in middle school, when a fire broke out, I’d woken up in the hospital with Amber at my side. She swore she’d saved my life, and I spent years doing everything she wanted, “repaying her” for saving me. It wasn’t until the last moments of my previous life that she admitted, “Why do you deserve a better life than me? I locked you in that classroom and watched the fire break out. Lucky you didn’t die. It was only because they put us in the same hospital room that I could make you think you owed me.” Amber went quiet on the phone. After a long pause, she stammered, “What’re you talking about, Jess? No one but me could’ve saved you. Just tell me if these pills are safe.” Her brazen denial made me laugh coldly. In my past life, she’d also snuck off to have the DNA test. When she got the meds, she’d asked me to double-check them. Back then, I’d paid out of pocket to get them analyzed by a top lab, only to discover they were unapproved for human testing. Amber and the others were basically lab rats. Legacy Medical was hyping its newest anti-aging “blood cleansing” drug, claiming it could remove toxins. Older clients would benefit from younger relatives’ blood transfusions, living longer, more vibrant lives. After hearing my warning, Amber hadn’t taken the pills and avoided the worst. But she never thanked me—instead, she thought the dead were “unfit heirs.” She was sure she’d be the one to survive and inherit. I said, “But if you test the pills, won’t Monroe know? He might revoke your inheritance.” There was a pause. “Wait… he’d do that?” I smiled, giving her one last nudge. “He’s your father, Amber. I’m sure he’d never harm you.”
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