Quinn Harper, my stepdaughter, is indifferent by nature and believes in “taking life as it comes.” When she got into a Community College after the SAT, I worked part-time jobs on top of my nursing shifts to pay her tuition. She mocked me for being too concerned about pride and meddling in her business. After coasting through college, she struggled to find a job. I swallowed my pride and asked an old classmate to help her secure a position. She accused me of being too ambitious, saying I took someone else’s opportunity. When she made mistakes at work and offended the wealthy elites, I apologized to her superiors on her behalf. She scolded me for being embarrassing, saying I didn’t know how to “take life as it comes.” In the end, her seemingly effortless nature caught the eye of Hunter Caldwell, a wealthy heir. She married into his family, skyrocketing to the top. Meanwhile, I was inexplicably suspended from work. When I asked for her help, she said it was my punishment for being greedy and advised me to learn to let go. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day her college admission results came out. Content
“Don’t worry, Quinn. My job’s not too busy—I can pick up another side gig and cover your college tuition.” The words spilled out before I realized what I was saying. Memories came flooding back, and I suddenly understood—I’d been reborn. As expected, the next moment, Quinn’s indifferent voice reached my ears. “Why do you always care so much about pride? What’s wrong with just taking life as it comes?” That was how it had gone in my past life. Quinn wasn’t my biological daughter, but I’d raised her since she was little and treated her as my own. I thought her constant criticisms were just her being overly sensitive. So, I kept bending over backward for her. To give her a good start in life, I worked day and night as a nurse and picked up a side job paying $10 an hour after my shifts. I managed to scrape together enough to get her through that Community College. But instead of being grateful, she blamed me for her failures, saying I cared more about my reputation than her happiness, wasting four years of her youth. When she graduated, her lack of skills left her unemployable at any decent workplace. I had to swallow my pride and beg an old college friend to find her a job. Once she started working, she accused me of being manipulative and taking opportunities from others. When she made mistakes, I even apologized to her boss on her behalf. She said I was humiliating and obsessed with success, refusing to “take life as it comes.” Because of her, my reputation among colleagues and family was destroyed. Yet her laid-back, “go-with-the-flow” attitude managed to captivate Hunter Caldwell, who saw her as refreshingly different. She climbed her way into his wealthy world while I was inexplicably suspended and ostracized. When I asked for her help, she didn’t even look at me. All she said was, “I told you to take life as it comes. If you’re like this now, it’s because you couldn’t let go of your selfish ambitions. I can’t help you.” Remembering all this, I met Quinn’s indifferent gaze and asked, “Are you sure you want to live like this? Taking life as it comes?” Quinn’s eyes flickered briefly with unease before she quickly regained her composure. “Of course,” she replied matter-of-factly. Her confidence stemmed from always having everything handed to her. So I nodded, pretending to agree. “Alright then. You’re an adult now. I’m not obligated to take care of you anymore. Do whatever you want.” For the first time, Quinn’s aloof demeanor almost cracked. Feigning nonchalance, she muttered, “But if I don’t go to college, how will I get a job and take care of you in the future?” I let out a soft laugh.
So, she knew going to college was in her best interest after all. But what did that have to do with me? I ignored her muttering and went straight to my bedroom for a nap. Cooking or cleaning? Let it all “take life as it comes.” The next morning, as I was getting ready for work, Quinn Harper blocked my path. She held up her phone, showing me her Instagram Stories. Post after post from her classmates: “Finally graduated high school! Thanks, Mom!” “New phone from Dad—ready for college!” Her smug reminder brought back memories—I’d lived through this moment before. Right on cue, Quinn spoke. “I don’t need anything fancy. Just something that works.” “Something that works,” huh? In my past life, feeling guilty, I took a day off work to buy her a tablet. At the store, she picked up the most expensive Apple model and said with a casual tone, “Taking life as it comes means going with the first thing I see. This one will do.” Not wanting to embarrass her, I gritted my teeth and bought it. Later, when a colleague visited and saw the tablet, they remarked, “Wow, you really spoil your daughter.” Before I could respond, Quinn scoffed, “She just wanted to show off. I would’ve been fine with anything.” This time, I wasn’t playing along. I picked up her phone and examined it. “Looks like this works fine. Why get a new one?” I smiled. Quinn looked ready to argue but held back. I added, “Don’t worry so much about appearances. Taking life as it comes should be enough for you, right?” Her composure cracked, and she stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t come home that night. The next morning, she returned dressed head-to-toe in designer labels, carrying shopping bags with a brand-new laptop and phone. She made a show of setting them prominently on the table, then loudly started unboxing them. When I didn’t react, she finally broke the silence. “Pretty lucky, huh? I bought a lottery ticket and won $20,000.” “Taking life as it comes really pays off. Being stingy never gets you anywhere.” I mentally calculated. Her college tuition was $20,000 a year, and her living expenses would cost at least the same. That $20,000 wouldn’t even cover a semester if she kept up this lifestyle. But I kept my thoughts to myself and casually said, “$20,000 should cover your college expenses.” Quinn’s expression turned dismissive as she stood up, her gaze icy. “Don’t you get it? When you live life as it comes, the universe helps you. People like you, burdened with distractions, only hurt themselves. Just look at us.” I didn’t bother responding. Reasoning with someone like her was pointless. When the holidays ended, Quinn left for college, and I turned my focus back to my career. I majored in nursing in college. After graduating, I went straight into the field, working as a nurse. Among the colleagues who joined the hospital the same year as me, most either switched careers or moved on to other hospitals. Even the least successful of them had climbed to become charge nurses in secondary wards. Meanwhile, I was still stuck in the same place, treading water.
But every time I reached a promotion milestone, Quinn caused problems. When she was in elementary school, she claimed the cafeteria food made her sick. So, I meticulously prepared meals and delivered them daily. In middle school, she said she was overwhelmed by pressure. I adjusted every aspect of her life—her meals, her schedule, her room decor—so she’d always be in a good mood. By high school, during the time Marcus passed away, she declared she didn’t want to go to school anymore. She took a break from school, and I picked up my old textbooks to tutor her myself. I sacrificed nearly everything for her, including my career. And in my past life, all I got in return was, “You’re too distracted. It’s your fault things turned out this way.” Quinn, however, believed everything she gained was a reward for her “go-with-the-flow” approach. But this time, it wasn’t too late. With work being hectic, I used whatever free time I had over the next year to earn my nursing certification. Then I submitted my application to the Nursing Department to become a charge nurse. With my years of experience, my promotion was practically guaranteed. By my second year in this role, Quinn graduated college. Just like in the past, she majored in nursing. But unlike before, I didn’t immediately rush to find her a job. A week later, one evening, she finally broke her silence. Holding a glass of milk from the fridge, she knocked on my door. When I opened it, she stood there looking almost unchanged from four years ago—her face as emotionless as ever, though her eyes now held a hint of uncertainty. “I haven’t found a job yet,” she said. “Since you’re in nursing, what kind of position do you think I should look for?” Before I could reply, she added quickly, “I’m just worried about not being able to take care of you when you’re older. That’s all.” Her attempt at justification was laughable. In my past life, when Quinn returned after graduation, I was still a low-level nurse without the qualifications to speak up. To help her, I’d swallowed my pride and begged Violet Sawyer, a former college roommate who now worked as the director of the maternity ward. We’d never gotten along, but I humbled myself for Quinn. Violet eventually pulled some strings, and Quinn landed a job at Starlight Medical Center, a dream for most nursing graduates. But once she started working, she didn’t hold back from openly mocking me. She told coworkers I was manipulative, forcing her into a position she never wanted. She insisted she hated nursing, claiming I’d stolen someone else’s opportunity to satisfy my ambitions. She said she just wanted to “take life as it comes,” but I kept pushing her into things she didn’t want. Her words spread like wildfire, and colleagues started filing complaints against me. By the time I lost my job, it was too late to understand why. A kind coworker later revealed the truth—Quinn had been behind it all. Remembering this, I stared at the Quinn standing before me. The warmth in my voice disappeared. “If you don’t have the skills, don’t blame the lack of opportunities. Instead of complaining, maybe start by asking yourself if you’re qualified.” Quinn’s face darkened. “But you’ve been promoted already. Why can’t you just use your position to help me out?” I almost laughed out loud.
In my previous life, when I stepped in to help Quinn Harper, she accused me of being manipulative, stealing someone else’s opportunity, and not letting her “take life as it comes.” This time, I chose not to help her. But now, she had the audacity to ask me to “naturally” help her out. The hypocrisy was laughable. I shoved her out of the way and, with thinly veiled irritation, said, “If I help you, what happens to everyone else? Can’t you stop being so selfish? Isn’t taking life as it comes good enough for you?” Quinn’s face turned pale, her composure visibly shaken. I closed the door in her face, cutting her off completely. The days passed uneventfully after that. Apart from Quinn’s occasional attempts to linger around me, life felt peaceful again. Until one otherwise ordinary morning when I saw her at Maplewood General Hospital. History, it seemed, had a habit of repeating itself. Somehow, she had managed to reconnect with my old college roommate, Violet Sawyer. There she was, following closely behind Violet, basking in the attention of the nurses in Violet’s department. Quinn looked as calm and detached as ever, while Violet, all smiles, introduced her to the team. Something about the scene felt deeply unsettling. Violet and I had been college roommates, but we were never close. Violet struggled in her courses and often asked me for help. I obliged by marking key points in her textbooks. But behind my back, she mocked me for showing off my knowledge. She even made fun of the notes I’d prepared for her, claiming I was overbearing. Unluckily for her, I overheard one of her snide remarks. In my frustration, I threw her book back at her. From that moment, our polite acquaintance turned into mutual hostility. Years later, working in the same hospital, I avoided her as much as possible. But Violet always found ways to make my life harder—fiddling with my schedules or pinning mistakes made by trainees on me. To call her an enemy wouldn’t be an exaggeration. So why had she gone out of her way to help Quinn, knowing full well that she was my stepdaughter? The kindness seemed far too calculated. Lost in thought, I didn’t notice Quinn walking toward me until she was right in front of me. Her eyes scanned me up and down before she said with an air of nonchalance, “Even without your help, I’ll rise to the top. Surpassing you is only a matter of time.” I didn’t dignify her comment with a response. I was certain Violet had ulterior motives for helping her. And in a role like this, without real competence, Quinn would eventually face the consequences of her own shortcomings. But Quinn wasn’t ready to let me walk away. She sidestepped to block my path and said coolly, “The head nurse who got me in wants to meet you. Tomorrow at noon. Be there.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left. As I watched her retreating figure, I marveled at the sheer thickness of her skin. Despite my doubts, I decided to go to the meeting. As the saying goes, “Know your enemy and know yourself.” At 10 a.m. the next day, Quinn brought me to a café on the corner of Ashwood Heights. Violet arrived at 11:30, a full hour and a half late. For the entire time, Quinn sat there exuding a false sense of righteousness, as if she were a saint offering me a golden opportunity. When Violet finally showed up, she didn’t even glance at Quinn. Dropping her bag on the table, she said curtly, “You can leave now.” Quinn’s carefully maintained demeanor faltered for a moment, though she quickly forced herself to appear composed. She offered a polite goodbye to Violet before walking out.
I turned my gaze toward Violet, confused but unamused. “If you have something to say, get to the point. We’re not exactly on friendly terms.” Violet smirked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her dark brown eyes gleamed with smugness. “Don’t think I don’t know why you worked so hard to become charge nurse—it was all to get your precious little stepdaughter into this hospital.” Feigning surprise, she covered her mouth with her hand and added with mock sympathy, “Too bad. Your darling Quinn is working under me now. Here’s the deal—if you beg me, admit you’ll never be as good as I am, I’ll give her an easy schedule.” She paused, leaning forward slightly, her grin widening. “But if you don’t, I’ll make sure Quinn gets a taste of the hell you’ve been through these past few years.” Her words left me momentarily speechless. Before, everyone knew how much I doted on Quinn. I shielded her from the world, refusing suitors after Marcus passed, fearful that a new relationship might make her feel unloved. But that life had taught me a bitter lesson. Quinn Harper was nothing more than an ungrateful parasite. The kind of person who bites the hand that feeds her. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
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