“Let me loosen your dress. Don’t embarrass us at the banquet.” My mother approached my waist with scissors. In my past life, she snipped the seam. I was exposed in front of the entire Sterling family. My sister draped her coat over me and stole the marriage contract. I was exiled to the countryside and froze to death in a shack — only to learn on my deathbed that my sister was my father’s secret love child, and my mother was her accomplice. This time, as the scissors came down, I lunged into her arms. The blade sank into her own palm. My sister rushed to help her, and I tugged loose her belt. “Does your hand hurt, Mom?” I wiped the blood from her fingers. “In my last life, I hurt a thousand times more than this.” …… After finally finding my biological parents, they arranged for me and my adopted sister to meet the heir of the Sterling Group. Before we left, my mother personally straightened my collar, but she secretly pulled a loose thread from my dress’s waistline. The moment we arrived at the Sterling manor, I leaned over to change my shoes, and the side of my dress burst open, exposing my slip. Mrs. Sterling sneered in disgust, “Blood-related or not, she’s so indecent she can’t even dress herself—what an embarrassment!” My sister, Maya, draped her designer coat over me right then, earning praise for her grace and sisterly love, which effortlessly secured her the marriage contract. Back home, I knelt and begged for justice. My father only snorted, “You couldn’t even keep your clothes together and humiliated the entire family; how dare you blame others?” My mother added with fake concern, “Since you returned, Maya has been crying every day out of guilt; you only lost a marriage, so stop acting like it’s the end of the world.” Later, Maya had a grand wedding while my reputation was ruined, and I was exiled to a derelict farm in the countryside where I eventually froze to death in a drafty shack. It was only before I died that I realized that thread had been intentionally snipped by my mother’s scissors. I have been reborn. My mother is smiling again, reaching out to straighten my collar: “The silk is slippery, honey; let me tighten this so you don’t look unrefined.” I snapped back to reality, seeing that same fake smile on her face. “The silk is slippery, honey; let me tighten this so you don’t look unrefined.” As she spoke, her fingers brushed toward my sleeve, revealing the tip of a tiny blade. In my past life, these small scissors snipped the seam of my waistline, leaving me exposed and humiliated in front of the Sterlings. In the freezing midwinter of my past, I had shivered in that shack. Maya had stepped on the back of my hand, mocking me: “Sister, I didn’t expect that just because I said I was afraid you’d outshine me, Mom would personally cut your future to pieces.” The cold wind of that shack seemed to still linger in my bones. I stared at my mother’s well-manicured hands, my heart hammering against my ribs. She continued to smile as she adjusted my collar, her fingers ready to strike my waistline with the scissors. Suddenly, my knees buckled, and I lunged forward. “Oh!” I let out a cry and crashed into my mother’s arms. Caught off guard by my sudden fall, her hand slipped. The scissors sliced through the air and stabbed directly into the back of her own hand. “Ouch!” My mother shrieked in pain, and the scissors hit the floor with a loud clang. I took the opportunity to wrap my arms around her waist, squeezing tightly from behind. Using my body as a shield, my right hand reached out to the side. Maya was standing nearby, waiting for the show to begin. She was wearing a limited-edition dress my mother had custom-made for her, cinched with an exquisite leather belt. Before she could react, my fingers hooked onto her belt buckle and gave it a sharp pull. The fastened buckle instantly came loose. I stood up quickly, feigning total panic. “Mom! Are you okay? It’s all my fault, I slipped!” I held her steady, looking deeply concerned. My mother clutched her bleeding hand, hissing in pain, and shot me a venomous look: “Clumsy girl! We’re going to the Sterlings, and you’re acting like a savage!” Maya stepped forward, pulling out a silk handkerchief to wrap my mother’s hand. She rolled her eyes at me with contempt before pretending to speak up for me: “Mom, Elena is just nervous, don’t blame her. She just got back from the countryside and hasn’t seen the world, so it’s natural for her legs to go weak.” My father, Arthur, stood at the door with his hands behind his back, glancing at the clock with a scowl: “Enough! Stop wasting time! We’re going to be late, and if you keep Mrs. Sterling waiting, can either of you handle the consequences?” Father didn’t even glance at me; his eyes only softened when they landed on Maya: “Maya looks elegant today, truly sophisticated. Once we’re at the manor, keep an eye on your sister so she doesn’t humiliate us.” Maya nodded obediently: “Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll take good care of her.” She straightened her back, puffing her chest out like a proud peacock. I lowered my head, a cold smile touching my lips.
My mother’s hand was still seeping blood, staining the handkerchief. Since time was running out, she didn’t have a chance to mess with my waistline and instead grabbed a jewelry box. “Maya, this was a gift from your grandmother; I’m giving it to you now for good luck.” She took out a sapphire pendant and personally fastened it around Maya’s neck. “This blue suits your skin tone; it’s beautiful but subtle for the Sterlings.” Maya touched the pendant, her eyes curving with delight: “Thank you, Mom, I’ll treasure it.” I stood to the side with empty hands and a plain, cheap belt. My mother finally noticed me and rummaged through a corner of the box, pulling out a handful of old hairpins with peeling gold paint: “Elena, wear these so you can’t say I’m biased. Your outfit is plain, so these will provide some contrast.” She shoved them into my hand, not caring if they even matched. Father watched and, instead of finding it unfair, nodded in approval: “Maya was raised in London; she has the class for that pendant. Elena spent her life in the dirt; wearing fine things would just look ridiculous on her.” I squeezed the cheap hairpins until they bit into my palm. The countryside? Why was I even there? It was because they threw me away to some distant relatives years ago to hide from their creditors. Now they only brought me back because the Sterlings insisted on the “biological” daughter to fulfill the old marriage pact. Even though Maya was the favorite, she was legally just an adopted orphan. They needed to use me as a stepping stone to get Maya into the Sterling family. In my past life, I never understood why my own parents were so heartless. Until the moment before I died, I heard the neighbors gossiping. “Mr. Blackwood is truly cruel, leaving his real daughter to die for the sake of an adopted one.” “Adopted? That’s his secret love child with his mistress!” “Mrs. Blackwood knew all along, but to keep her husband happy, she raised the bastard as an ‘adopted’ child and trampled her own daughter to pave the way.” So that was the truth. One was the precious child of a mistress. The other was the unwanted burden of a legal wife. My mother sacrificed her own child just to keep her husband’s favor. My father treated me like trash for the sake of his hidden affair. I gripped the hairpins until they bent and broke in my hand. I looked at the three of them—Maya holding my mother’s arm, my father looking on with fatherly love. They were a happy family, and I was the intruder. “Dad, Mom, it’s time to go.” Father gave me a look of pure annoyance: “What’s the rush? No manners at all. When we get to the manor, speak less and follow Maya’s lead. If you ruin this marriage, I’ll send you straight to a strict boarding school in the middle of nowhere!” I lowered my gaze and said nothing. A boarding school? I’ve already been to hell; that’s nothing.
The car drove toward the Sterling estate. Maya sat in the prime seat, constantly fidgeting with her sapphire pendant. The Sterling’s head housekeeper, Rachel, was also in the car, officially as an escort but actually to observe our character. Maya didn’t stop talking the entire way. “Rachel, I heard the Sterling gardens are the finest in the country.” “Rachel, I’ve learned a new piano piece; do you think the Mistress would enjoy a recital?” “Rachel, look at this pendant; my mother gave it to me specially.” Rachel grew pale, her brow furrowing as she pressed her hand against her temple, clearly in significant pain. I watched this and smiled inwardly. In my past life, Maya was just as noisy, but she got lucky because Mrs. Sterling happened to have a migraine that day. Maya had used a scent recipe she stole from my notes to relieve the headache and won the Mistress’s favor. This time, I wouldn’t give her the chance. I took a small, elegant box from my bag. Inside, nestled on a velvet cushion, was a slender glass vial with a rollerball tip. I had spent my three years of exile apprenticing with an old-world apothecary, mastering the art of therapeutic botanicals. This was my own signature blend. “You look pale, Rachel,” I said, uncapping the vial. A crisp, clarifying scent of peppermint, eucalyptus, and something deeply green filled the air. “I made this for tension headaches. Just a touch on your temples or wrists should help.” Maya immediately glared, her voice a low hiss. “Elena! What is that stuff? Are you seriously giving Rachel some homemade concoction? If you make her condition worse, can you even afford the doctor’s bill?” Rachel was already nauseous, and Maya’s screeching made her head feel like it was exploding. She shot Maya a look of pure annoyance, then ignored her completely. Turning to me, she gestured toward the vial. “May I?” I handed it to her. She held it under her nose for a moment, inhaling deeply. The crisp, clarifying scent of peppermint and eucalyptus, grounded by a hint of sandalwood, seemed to cut through the stuffy air in the car. “This is lovely,” Rachel admitted, a touch of surprise in her voice. She dabbed a small amount onto her wrists as I had suggested. I moved closer. “Forgive the intrusion, Rachel.” My fingers found the tense muscles at the base of her neck and behind her ears. “There’s a pressure point here.” Using a specialized technique, I applied firm, rhythmic pressure to the knots of tension. In moments, Rachel’s tightened brow relaxed, and she let out a long sigh of relief. The sallow, strained look on her face began to fade, replaced by a healthier flush of color. “That’s an excellent technique,” Rachel said, opening her eyes. Her gaze, now clear and sharp, was filled with a new kind of scrutiny and respect. “Miss Elena, where did you learn that? That’s not something just anyone can do.” I paused, letting my hands fall away. “Just some basic acupressure I picked up from a physician while I was away,” I replied calmly. “Nothing to make a fuss over.” Rachel smiled, a genuine, appreciative smile this time. “You’re far too modest. If that’s ‘basic,’ then most of the city’s top massage therapists should be ashamed of themselves.” Maya sat beside us, twisting her napkins in a silent rage. She didn’t expect me to have this skill and tried to cut in: “Rachel, she just got lucky—” Rachel shot her a cold look: “If you’re tired, Miss Maya, perhaps you should rest your voice. Mrs. Sterling likes peace and detests those who are too noisy.” Maya’s face stiffened as she shut her mouth. Rachel ignored her and whispered a tip to me: “Not only is the Mistress here, but the young master is home too. Master Julian is cold by nature and dislikes girls who are overdone or fake. Character is what matters most here.” I nodded slightly: “Thank you for the advice, Rachel.” The car slowed to a halt; we had arrived at the Sterling manor.
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