After being murdered by my husband and my best friend, my soul stood in line at the Registry of the Dead. “Rebirth and reincarnation. Which family do you choose?” The Grim Reaper flipped through his ledger, asking me with complete indifference. I looked up and pointed to the mirror of soul judgment, which showed the wretched couple. They were hugging each other, celebrating that they had finally gotten rid of me. I smiled. “Their family. I want to be the sweet fruit of their love.” The Grim Reaper froze for a moment, warning me, “Such heavy resentment. Be careful, it might ruin your luck in your next life.” “It’s fine,” I waved my hand carelessly. “In this life, I’m going back to be their little ‘blessing.’” The next second, I was enveloped in warm amniotic fluid, followed by a dizzying sensation of pressure. Accompanied by a loud, piercing cry. I, Vivian Sterling, was born into this world as Evelyn Carter, the daughter of my worst enemies. “Congratulations, Mr. Carter! It’s a healthy baby girl. Listen to those strong lungs!” The nurse wiped me clean and carefully carried me over to the woman in the hospital bed. Melanie Vance. My former best friend. Right now, her face was pale, but she practically glowed with a fake, saintly motherly light as she reached out her arms toward me. “My sweet baby, let Mommy hold you.” Her voice was so sweet it could make your teeth ache. Mommy? Are you even worthy of that word? The exact millisecond her fingertips brushed against my baby skin. Without any warning, I unleashed the most agonizing, hysterical scream of my life! “Waaahhh—!!!” My shriek was so sharp it shattered the warm, peaceful atmosphere of the delivery room. The nurses and the doctor all jumped in startle. Melanie was so terrified that her hands shook, almost dropping me on the floor. “What’s wrong? She was perfectly fine just a second ago.” The nurse quickly snatched me back. The moment I was out of Melanie’s arms, my crying instantly quieted down into soft whimpers. “Newborns just feel insecure sometimes,” the doctor explained casually, not thinking much of it. But Melanie’s face had already turned slightly pale. Once we returned to the Carter estate. As long as Melanie came within three steps of me, my internal alarm would go off. The moment she tried to hold me, I would instantly transform from a sweet, doll-like baby into a thrashing hedgehog. My tiny limbs flailed wildly, my sharp baby nails clawing mercilessly at any exposed skin on her face, neck, and arms. “Ouch!” Melanie gasped in pain. She looked down and saw three bright red scratches bleeding on her smooth arm. Taking advantage of the moment, I began to cry even louder, looking as if I were the one who had suffered some horrible abuse. “What is going on here!” Marcus Carter rushed in at the sound of the noise, only to witness this exact scene. Melanie had blood on her arm, while her daughter in her arms was screaming her lungs out, looking like she was being tortured. “I… I don’t know, she just suddenly started…” Melanie’s face was white. Marcus impatiently grabbed me from her arms. The moment I hit his chest, my crying stopped instantly. I let out two pathetic, innocent little hiccups. I buried my flush little face against his warm chest, found a comfortable spot, and fell fast asleep. The contrast between this angelic, quiet baby and the monster of a second ago was night and day. Marcus looked at the angel in his arms, then at the bloody scratches on his wife’s arm. His brows furrowed into a deep frown. From that day on, this became the daily routine in the Carter household. If Melanie held me, I scratched her and cried like the world was ending. If Marcus, Grandpa Arthur, Grandma Eleanor, or even the nanny held me, I was as sweet and quiet as a porcelain doll. Before I was even a month old, Melanie’s arms were covered in a patchwork of new and old scars. She had to wear thick layers of concealer just to hide the claw marks on her face. And the rumor that “the Carter family’s little heiress was born to hate her mother” began to spread quietly among the high society. That night, Melanie’s lip was scratched open by me once again. She finally snapped. “What do you want from me?!” She slammed the bedroom door, staring at me in my crib, screaming in a low, distorted, demonic voice. “Are you a devil?! Why do you only do this to me?!” I opened my large, clear, innocent eyes, staring at her in complete silence. Yes. I am the demon who came back to drag you to hell. Seeing that I wasn’t crying or making a sound, Melanie’s sanity crawled back slightly. She took a deep breath, trying to comfort herself: “You’re just a baby who doesn’t know anything… You don’t understand…” Her hand trembled as she reached toward me again, as if trying to prove something to herself. Right then, the door swung open. Marcus walked in carrying a warm glass of milk. What he saw was his wife’s twisted, angry face, and her hand reaching toward their daughter in a threatening gesture. “Melanie! What are you doing!” He bolted forward, shielding me tightly in his arms. The look he gave her was freezing cold, filled with utter disappointment. “I didn’t do anything! I just wanted to hold her!” Melanie pleaded in despair. Marcus held me close, gently patting my back. Then, without even looking at Melanie, he said coldly: “If you hate her so much, stay the hell away from her.” “From now on, Maria will take care of her.”
Ever since her maternal rights were practically stripped away, Melanie’s status in the household plummeted. She went from being the lady of the manor to an invisible, unwanted ghost who just happened to be a mother on paper. Marcus grew colder to her by the day, while Grandpa and Grandma ignored her existence entirely. Only during high-society family gatherings—where they needed to put on a show for the media—was she allowed to hold me, pretending we were a loving mother and daughter. Under everyone’s pampered love, I grew to be two years old. I began to speak some simple, broken words. Every single word was calculated with absolute precision. On Arthur’s 70th birthday gala, the Carter mansion was packed with elite guests and media. I wore a custom-made red designer dress, looking like a perfect little angel. Grandpa held me proudly in his arms, soaking in everyone’s compliments. Melanie stood to the side in an expensive gown, her heavy makeup masking her pale face, forcing a stiff smile. I knew what she was waiting for. She was waiting for a chance to display her motherly love in public to salvage her reputation. Sure enough, when it was time to cut the cake, she picked up a small plate with a slice of vanilla cake. She walked toward me with elegant, graceful steps, her voice dripping with sweetness: “Evelyn, my sweet baby. Come to Mommy, let Mommy feed you some cake.” She had betted on the fact that I wouldn’t dare make a scene in front of so many distinguished guests. Too bad for her, she guessed wrong. I had waited for this day for far too long. I immediately squirmed out of Grandpa’s arms, sliding down to the floor. I backed away frantically, looking at her as if she were a pile of toxic waste. My little face was filled with pure terror and resistance. “No… No…” I whimpered in a shaky baby voice. Melanie’s smile froze. The surrounding relatives and guests all turned their eyes over, eager for some drama. “Evelyn, be good. Mommy won’t hurt you…” She panicked, taking another step forward, trying to grab my hand. Now! I snapped my hand up, using every ounce of my toddler strength to point directly at her face—which was now slightly distorted with fear. Then, I channeled all the hatred and murderous rage from my past life, condensing it into the most vicious curse. Through the mouth of a two-year-old child, word by word, I screamed at the top of my lungs: “Bad—woman!” “Killer… Killer!” The entire ballroom fell into a dead, horrified silence. Everyone stared at me, then at Melanie, whose face had turned as white as a sheet. “Killer?” “What did she just say? Did I hear that right?” “Oh my god, is this child… possessed?” Whispers rushed through the crowd like a tidal wave. Grandpa and Grandma were the first to react. Grandma snatched me into her arms, frantically rubbing my back to comfort me. “Don’t be scared, Evelyn. Did you have a nightmare yesterday? Don’t say such silly things!” Meanwhile, all the color drained from Marcus’s face. Melanie completely lost her mind. “I didn’t! It wasn’t me!” she shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at me, her voice wild and hysterical. “It’s her! This little brat is lying! She’s not normal! She’s a demon!” A mother, calling her own two-year-old daughter a “brat” and a “demon” in front of the city’s entire high society. “Shut the hell up!” Marcus stormed over and slapped her hard across the face. “Are you insane?! How dare you say that to a two-year-old!” I buried my face in Grandpa’s shoulder. Watching the two murderers turn on each other brought a thrilling rush of pure ecstasy to my soul.
The disaster at the birthday gala was the final straw that broke Melanie. “Madwoman,” “bitter wife,” “the mother cursed by her own daughter.” These labels stuck to her like hot tar. She couldn’t even hold her head up in the Carter house anymore. Marcus avoided her like she was the plague. He seemed to actually believe the rumor that I was some vengeful spirit. Every day after work, he locked himself in his study. He’d rather stare at the wall than look at his “true love.” Completely isolated, Melanie’s mental state deteriorated rapidly. She didn’t dare approach me anymore, but every time she looked at me, her eyes were filled with venomous hatred. She started playing passive-aggressive mind games with me. She would purposely knock over my milk, make loud, jarring noises while I was sleeping, and even pinch my arms hard when no one was looking. I endured all of it in silence. Because I knew she was just throwing a desperate tantrum. And I was waiting for the perfect opportunity to send her straight to hell. That opportunity came in the form of a crystal music box hidden deep inside her jewelry vanity. It was the anniversary gift Marcus had given her right after she found out she was pregnant with me. I quietly slipped into her bedroom. I dragged a vanity stool over, climbed up onto the dressing table, and pulled out the sparkling crystal music box. Without a second of hesitation, I raised it high above my head and slammed it down onto the marble floor! *Smash!* With a loud shatter, the music box exploded into a million sharp glass shards. But that wasn’t enough. I closed my eyes, letting the memories of my brutal death in my past life flood my mind. Then, I picked up the sharpest piece of glass and sliced it hard across my own pale arm. “Ugh…” A sharp, burning pain flared up, and bright red blood instantly gushed out. The sheer pain made me dizzy, but I stood firm. I dripped a few drops of blood onto the dress of my favorite teddy bear, then held it tightly, running out of the room with my body covered in “evidence.” “Grandpa! Grandma!” My tearful, terrified screams echoed through the hallways, bringing everyone running in panic. They saw me standing there, my clothes messed up, my body shaking violently, clutching a blood-stained teddy bear. On my other arm, a deep, nasty gash was pouring blood. “Oh my god! Evelyn!” Grandma let out a horrified shriek, sprinting toward me first. I dove straight into Grandma’s arms, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe. Using my carefully practiced, broken vocabulary, I wove the perfect lie: “Mommy… bad…” “Mommy… don’t like… Evelyn…” I held up the blood-stained teddy bear, crying until I almost fainted: “Broke… broke toy… Toy is broken…” Finally, I held out my bleeding arm, whimpering softly: “Ow… hurts… bleeding…” Every single word felt like a physical blow to everyone’s heart. Melanie stood frozen at the doorway. She stared at the gash on my arm, then at her own empty hands. Her mind went completely blank. “No… it wasn’t me… I didn’t do it…” Her defense sounded pathetic and hollow in the face of all the blood. “You absolute monster!” Grandpa’s body shook with pure rage. He pointed a finger at her, his eyes practically spitting fire. “How dare you lay your filthy hands on Evelyn! The Carter family has no place for a sick, twisted woman like you!” Marcus was also completely terrified by the bloody scene. He looked at me, then at the frantic, screaming Melanie. The very last shred of affection he had for his wife was instantly replaced by terror and disgust. As they rushed me to the hospital, I rested my head on Grandpa’s shoulder. Over the shoulders of the panicked crowd, I looked back at Melanie, whose face was now dead and hollow. I silently mouthed two words to her. “Go. Die.” She understood. She stared at me, and finally let out a blood-curdling, non-human shriek of pure terror.
The wound on my arm required five stitches. I became the most precious, delicate treasure of the Carter family. Everywhere I went, people treated me like glass. Grandpa hired two private bodyguards to watch over me twenty-four hours a day. Their only job was to make sure Melanie never came within ten feet of me. Melanie, on the other hand, was placed under house arrest in her bedroom. I heard she went completely mad, smashing everything in her room, screaming that I was a demon, and that I had cut myself. But of course, nobody believed her. Who would believe the frantic ramblings of a child-abuser? But I knew this wasn’t enough. House arrest was just the beginning. I wanted her gone from this house, and from my life, permanently. One afternoon, I dismissed my bodyguards, telling them I wanted to play hide-and-seek by myself. Then, I quietly walked over to her bedroom door. It wasn’t locked. She was sitting on the carpet, staring at the shattered remains of the crystal music box, muttering to herself like a lunatic. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The moment she saw me, she flinched like a startled rabbit, scrambling back into the corner of the wall, her eyes filled with absolute terror. “What… what do you want?” I walked up to her, squatted down, and spoke in a cold, steady voice that did not belong to a child at all: “I’m here… to take back what’s mine.” Melanie’s pupils dilated instantly! I looked at her, slowly letting a familiar, chilling smile spread across my face—the exact smile of Vivian Sterling. “You stole my husband, you took my life… Now, I’m taking everything back, piece by piece.” “Aaahhh—!!!” The last thread of Melanie’s sanity snapped. She finally knew. She knew with absolute certainty that I wasn’t just a child. I was the vengeful ghost of Vivian Sterling, back from the grave! “Demon! I’ll kill you, you filthy demon!” She shrieked, lunging at me with savage, primal murderous intent. She grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the hallway, right toward the long, steep marble staircase of the second floor. I didn’t fight back. In fact, I helped her. I was calculating the time down to the exact second. I knew that in ten seconds, Grandpa would walk out of his study to head downstairs for his daily afternoon tea. “Die! You little monster!” Melanie was completely gone. She dragged me to the very edge of the stairs and raised her hand high to strike me! Now! I heard the faint click of the study door opening. The exact second Melanie’s hand swung toward me, I let out the loudest, most terrified scream of my life: “Mommy! Don’t push me—!!!” Then, I threw myself out of her grip. Without a shred of hesitation, I threw myself down the cold, hard marble stairs! The world spun violently! The agonizing pain of my bones smashing against the marble steps almost made me black out instantly. *Thud!* My body hit the first-floor floor like a broken ragdoll. My left arm was twisted at a horrific, unnatural angle. The pain hit me like a tsunami, but I forced myself to open my eyes. I looked up. Grandpa was standing at the top of the stairs, his face completely pale, his entire body shaking as he stared at this horrific scene. He saw Melanie’s hand still raised in the air. He heard my desperate cry of “Don’t push me.” And he saw me fall down the stairs. I looked into his eyes—which were filled with shock, fury, and immense pain. I reached out my uninjured right hand, trembling, pointing at the frozen woman at the top of the stairs. Tears and cold sweat mixed on my face. My voice was barely a whisper. “Grandpa… save me…” “Mommy… she… she wants to kill me…” The moment the words left my mouth, my head slumped to the side, and I “fainted.” Before losing consciousness, I heard Grandpa unleash a roar of pure, unadulterated rage that didn’t even sound human.
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