After my brother passed away, My pregnant sister-in-law developed an unsettling obsession: secretly filming couples on dates. She didn’t stop there—she blackmailed them for money and even spread the videos online. When one furious victim showed up at our house with a knife, demanding answers, She pointed to her pregnant belly and forced my mom to choose. And my mom? She decided that “two lives were more valuable than one.” “Your sister-in-law is carrying my grandchild. Be understanding, okay?” Then she shoved me out the door to face the knife-wielding man. I was stabbed to death. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the past. This time, I stole my mom’s line And shoved her out the door instead. Bang. Bang. The violent pounding on the door jolted me awake. I sat up in bed, wide-eyed, frantically feeling my stomach. No wounds. No blood. No pain. I was alive. I had been reborn! In my last life, after my brother passed away from an illness, my sister-in-law, Caroline, completely lost it. Pregnant and unbalanced, she developed a strange hobby. She loved spying on couples, secretly recording their intimate moments, and saving the videos to watch later. I was disgusted by her behavior, but I never imagined she’d take it further. She started blackmailing the people in the videos, demanding money. And when one couple refused to pay, she retaliated by sharing the footage online. Furious, the man in the video showed up at our house with a knife, demanding justice. My mom, ever the “family protector,” said something I’d never forget: “Your sister-in-law is carrying my grandson. Two lives are at stake. You’ll understand, won’t you?” Then she shoved me out the door. I was stabbed to death. Now, as the man outside screamed and pounded on the door, memories of my last life flooded back. “Get out here, you filthy woman! Come out NOW!” Caroline, just like before, clutched her belly and leaned against the wall, tears brimming in her eyes. She stared at my mom, shaking her head in silent fear. My mom immediately turned to look at me. I felt a chill run down my spine. Here we go again. But this time, I wasn’t going to wait for her to make the first move. As soon as she turned back toward Caroline, I stood up and cut her off, stealing the words she was about to say. “Caroline is carrying your precious grandson. Two lives are more important than one.” “Mom, I understand.” Ignoring her stunned expression, I walked to the storage room and grabbed a shovel. This time, she didn’t push me toward the door. She grabbed my arm instead. For a brief moment, hope flickered in my chest. Had my rebirth changed her heart? But then she turned to Caroline, her voice full of urgency. “Caroline, go hide in the bedroom! Hurry before you get scared.” And then, without missing a beat, she shoved me lightly toward the door. “Go on, sweetheart. Mom will never forget your sacrifice.” The pain I felt in that moment was worse than death. I turned back around, grabbed her wrist, and shoved the shovel into her hands. Then I threw the door open and pushed her out with all my strength. “You want the shovel? Here—it’s all yours. Let’s see how you handle this.” This time, we’re switching roles. Let’s make the game a little more interesting.
I slammed the door shut and locked it, pressing my ear against it to catch every sound from the other side. First, I heard my mom cursing. Then, the screams started. After a while, the man’s screams joined hers. My mom was fighting back. That’s when Caroline burst out of the bedroom, her face pale with fear. She pointed at me and shrieked, “Why are you still here? Why didn’t you go out there?” I smirked. “Why wouldn’t it be me?” I crossed my arms and sneered. “After all, my mom isn’t pregnant. Just one life. Seems like a fair trade, don’t you think?” Caroline’s eyes widened, and she shot back in a shrill voice, “You heartless monster! What if your mom dies out there? Go save her! Go now!” Oh, right. My mom owns three very expensive houses. If she dies, how would Caroline ever get her hands on them? I smiled coldly. “You’re right. You should have a chance to prove yourself.” Before she could react, I shoved her toward the door. But instead of going out to help, she spun on her heel and bolted back into the bedroom. “I’m pregnant with your mom’s grandson, and you expect me to go out there?” she screeched. See? The whip only stings when it cracks on your own back. Outside, the noise died down. All I could hear now was my mom’s faint cries for help. Peeking through the peephole, I saw her lying on the ground, covered in blood. But the man was gone. I sighed, taking a moment to compose myself before slowly opening the door. “Mom? Oh no, Mom! What happened to you?” I walked over, feigning panic. “Are you… are you dying?” She only had two or three shallow cuts, none of them life-threatening. Honestly, she got off easy. But as I stood over her, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. Why had I given her the shovel to defend herself? Wouldn’t it have been better if the curtain had closed on this little drama for good? Caroline suddenly charged out of the bedroom, her inner drama queen fully activated. She wailed hysterically, throwing herself to the ground next to my mom as though she might faint from grief. “Call 911!” my mom groaned, her face twisted in pain. I pulled out my phone—not to call for help, but to snap photos. “Hold on,” I said, snapping a few shots. “Gotta document this for evidence.” “You little brat!” my mom hissed through gritted teeth. “You ungrateful, heartless—” I stopped what I was doing and gave her a sidelong glance. “Really? You’re still complaining? It’s just a couple of scratches. Don’t be so dramatic.” “You…” Her face turned red, and she gasped for air before her eyes rolled back, and she passed out. In my last life, I was shoved out that door without warning. I was stabbed dozens of times and left to die, bleeding out as I clawed at the door for help. And what was my mom doing then? She was inside the house, making soup for Caroline. So forgive me if I wasn’t exactly moved by her fainting spell now.
I called the police first. Then, I called for an ambulance. The apartment complex was clogged with traffic, so the ambulance took its sweet time getting there. That suited me just fine. Let her suffer a little longer. Caroline, meanwhile, panicked completely. She hovered over my mom, pressing on her bleeding wounds, muttering, “It’s fine, it’s fine. You’ll be okay.” “Relax,” I said with an eye roll. “She’s not gonna die.” Caroline shot me a look of disbelief. “She’s your mother! How can you be so cruel?” I laughed. “You want her so bad? She’s all yours. Congratulations.” Then, I grabbed a bag of sunflower seeds, plopped down on the couch, and waited for the police and paramedics to arrive. My mom eventually made it to the hospital. She had lost a lot of blood but didn’t have any serious injuries. When the doctor asked about her medical history, I quickly spoke up. “She’s allergic to anesthesia,” I said with a straight face. “You’ll need to stitch her up without it.” Caroline glared at me, suspicious. I turned to her and smirked. “You should start thinking about what you’re going to tell the police.” Caroline puffed out her chest, smug as ever. “Why should I care? I’m pregnant. What can they possibly do to me?” I gave her a long, unimpressed look. “Sure, keep hiding behind that belly. We’ll see how long that lasts.” Moments later, the sound of my mom’s screams echoed through the hospital as they stitched her wounds. Pressed down onto the hospital bed, her face contorted in agony, her mouth wide open as she howled. I watched through the window, feeling nothing but satisfaction. The man who attacked her was quickly caught, and the police came to the hospital to take Caroline in for questioning. As soon as my mom was wheeled out of the emergency room, I delivered the news with a big smile. “They’re taking Caroline in to make a statement,” I said cheerfully. My mom’s face drained of color. “She… she can’t get a record! What about my grandson? What if he wants to work for the government someday?” I shrugged, my voice ice-cold. “Guess that’s not an option anymore.” Her panic was instant. She tried to jump out of bed, but her freshly stitched wounds tore open, sending blood gushing everywhere. “Ahhh!” she screamed, writhing in pain. She reached out to me, desperation etched on her face. “Help me! Emily, help me up!” I turned away. “I’ll go get the doctor.” I left the room, taking my time as I strolled down the hall. When I returned with the doctor, we found her collapsed by the door, her bloodied hands leaving streaks on the floor as she tried to crawl out. I couldn’t help but smirk and give her a thumbs-up. “Wow, Mom,” I said. “You really are something else.”
Because Caroline violated people’s privacy by secretly filming and distributing obscene videos, she was sentenced to 15 days of administrative detention and fined $5,00. When my mom heard about it, she threw a fit, insisting on leaving the hospital to check on Caroline. “It’s raining out there! What if she gets cold?” “The food in jail is awful and has no nutrition! How is she supposed to survive?” “This is all your fault, you ungrateful brat! Why did you push me out the door?” “My poor, sweet Caroline. She’s suffering because of you!” I turned around and tossed the takeout box I had been holding straight into the trash. She didn’t deserve it. My mom was bedridden, powerless to do anything herself, but Caroline’s “hobby” had become the talk of the town. In her twisted logic, she blamed me for everything—claiming that I had ruined her precious unborn grandson’s reputation before he even had a chance to be born. And to “restore” that reputation? She did something unthinkable. She used my name to write a fake confession and posted it all over social media. “Dear friends and family, I’m Emily Watts, and I’m here to confess my sins. It was me who secretly filmed those videos, not my sister-in-law. She only took the blame to protect me. I’ve let my mom down. I’ve let my family down. Most of all, I’ve let my unborn nephew down. Please don’t blame Caroline. Blame me.” She followed it up with ten similar posts, tagging every family member and friend she could think of. Then she forwarded it to group chats, ensuring maximum exposure. My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Call after call came in, all asking the same thing: “Is it true?” Furious, I stormed into her hospital room, fists clenched, demanding an explanation. Her response? Calm. Matter-of-fact. “Our family’s future depends on my grandson. As his aunt, this is the least you can do.” When Caroline was released from detention, my mom insisted on checking herself out of the hospital to take care of her. Honestly, Caroline should count herself lucky. Having a mother-in-law like mine is like winning the lottery—if the lottery rewarded you with blind devotion and endless enabling. The moment Caroline stepped through the door, she burst into tears, sobbing about the “horrors” of jail. My mom, of course, was right there with her, dabbing at her own tears like they were the stars of a tragic soap opera. “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” my mom cooed. “Your suffering is over now.” The sight of the two of them together made me want to throw up. Caroline, through her crocodile tears, began spinning a new story. “Mom, I don’t need the houses anymore. Just give them to Emily. If I keep them, she’ll keep causing trouble for me and the baby. Who knows what she’ll do next?” She sniffled dramatically. “I’m scared, Mom. What if she hurts us? What if she hurts the baby?” Her little act worked. My mom’s face twisted with rage. “She dares to touch my grandson? I’ll kill her first!” Hearing this, I decided to play along. I walked out of the kitchen, head lowered, pretending to be remorseful. “Mom, Caroline, I’m so sorry. I was wrong. I’ll never do anything to upset you again.” Caroline shot me a triumphant, venomous glare. But I wasn’t done yet. The drama died down for a while, but it didn’t take long for Caroline to go back to her old habits. This time, she secretly filmed someone having an affair and used the footage to blackmail them. The woman in the video paid her off to keep things quiet, but the man wasn’t as forgiving. One evening, on my way back from the store, someone grabbed me from behind, covering my mouth and nose. I was dragged into a dark alley. “Not bad,” the man sneered. “Didn’t realize you’d be this hot.” I struggled with all my strength, but he slapped me hard across the face. My head buzzed, my cheek stinging from the impact. “Stop fighting, you little bitch,” he growled. “Like spying on people, huh? Let me give you a show you’ll never forget.” Something inside me snapped. I stopped struggling and went limp. Then, slowly, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “Fine,” I whispered. “But don’t you think we should go somewhere more private?” My sudden compliance caught him off guard. He froze, his grip loosening ever so slightly. Taking advantage of his hesitation, I stood up, removed my coat, and smiled coldly. “Do you know why I secretly film people?” I asked, my voice calm, almost conversational. “Because I have a condition. It’s the only thing that makes me feel alive.” The man’s face twisted in disgust. Swearing under his breath, he yanked up his pants and stormed off. As soon as he disappeared, I pulled out a tissue, carefully wrapped the skin and hairs I’d scratched from his neck, and headed straight for the police station. The alley was too dark to identify him, but the DNA evidence would be enough to track him down. That night, a kind police officer drove me home. It was nearly midnight when we arrived. My mom opened the door, her face sour as she started to scold me. “You ungrateful brat! Took you long enough to—” Her words died in her throat the moment she saw the officer behind me. Fear flickered in her eyes, but she quickly replaced it with fake concern. “Oh, Emily! What happened to you? Why didn’t you call me? I was so worried!” But as soon as the officer left, her mask slipped. “You got assaulted buying groceries?” she sneered. “Honestly, you deserve it. Serves you right.” Caroline, sitting at the table, smirked at me. “Come on, Emily,” she said mockingly. “Join us for a midnight snack.” My mom shot her a look of exaggerated concern. “She doesn’t deserve to sit with us. Caroline, sweetheart, you eat. Don’t let my grandson go hungry.” I stood there in the living room, silently watching them, hatred burning in my eyes. Caroline wanted the houses. My mom wanted her grandson. Fine. If this is what they wanted most, then that’s exactly what I’d destroy.
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