Author: Momo Chan

The daughter I cherished like a treasure turned out to be a fraud. My real daughter, however, was thrown into a homeless camp by my husband. While that little snake, Chloe, paraded around in designer clothes, dripping in jewels, my daughter was dressed in rags, barely scraping by. Chloe was sent abroad for an Ivy League education, while my daughter remained illiterate. When my daughter finally escaped the wolves and returned home to seek her family, Lucas sent her away without telling me, shoving her out of our lives. Heartbroken, my daughter walked through the storm, only to be struck by a drunk truck driver. When I discovered the truth, I wanted to seek justice for her. But before I could, Chloe pushed me into the freezing waters of the Hudson River. In my last moments, I saw Lucas holding hands with Megan Stone, with Chloe clinging tightly to them. “Thank you for raising my daughter so well,” Lucas said with a smirk. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment Grace was born. This time, I would protect my precious daughter at all costs!

I struggled desperately in the ice-cold water of the Hudson. Until the moment I drowned, no one came to save me. I felt my soul leave my body. I was so unwilling to die, so full of hatred! Lucas, the man I loved deeply, had been cheating on me for years. The daughter I cherished like my own was actually Lucas and Megan Stone’s illegitimate child. Megan’s wild laughter echoed in my ears even in death. Before my eyes, I saw nothing but blood—just like the scene when my real daughter, Grace, died, her blood pooling around her lifeless body. If I could do it all over again, I would take revenge—for myself, and for Grace! Suddenly, I heard the cry of a newborn baby… I forced my heavy eyelids open. The blinding white ceiling, the smell of disinfectant. Was I in the hospital? I wasn’t supposed to be alive; I had drowned in the river, hadn’t I? I glanced around. The old-fashioned decor—it looked familiar. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen and couldn’t help but cry out. “Sweetheart, you’re awake! You scared me to death!” Mom? I focused my vision. It was my mother, but much younger than I remembered her. Wait… had I been reborn? Ignoring the pain, I bolted upright in bed. “Mom, where is my daughter?” In my past life, Lucas swapped my baby while I was weak and unconscious from childbirth. Not this time. Not again. My mother gently wiped the sweat from my forehead as I grabbed her arm, pleading. “Mom, where is my baby?” Unaware of my panic, she tried to soothe me. “Sweetie, don’t worry. The nurse took her for a checkup. She’ll be back soon.” “You should lie down and rest. You just had a baby; don’t overexert yourself.” I stared straight into my mother’s eyes. “Where’s Lucas?” She smiled. “Oh, you know him, he’s obsessed with Grace. The nurse only took her for a routine check, but he insisted on going with them.” What? My heart felt like it was in a vice, and I couldn’t breathe. No! I won’t let him get away with it this time. Ignoring the pain, I jumped out of bed, barefoot, and ran toward the door. My mother tried to stop me, but I sidestepped her and rushed to the door, only to collide with someone coming in. It was Lucas! He cradled the baby protectively, glaring at me with irritation. Seeing how he held Chloe so tenderly, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Even after being given a second chance, he had still won. Rage shot through me like wildfire. If my anger could take physical form, Lucas would have been reduced to ashes on the spot. “Melissa, the floor’s cold. Get back in bed,” Lucas said, faking concern. He thought he had fooled me, but I could still see the malice and impatience in his eyes. My mother caught up, pulling me back into bed. Once I was settled, Lucas laid Chloe beside me. “She’s hungry,” he said. On cue, Chloe started crying. I stared coldly at her. This was the child who had stolen Grace’s life, stolen all my love and resources, only to repay me by pushing me into the river. There wasn’t a creature in the world more vile than Chloe, this snake in the grass. Slowly, I reached out, my hand hovering over her neck. I wanted to strangle her right then and there. Lucas was lost in his own thoughts, smiling, unaware of what I was about to do. But my mother, who had been watching me closely, gasped. “Melissa, that’s not how you hold a baby. You need to support her neck.” “She’s crying because she’s hungry,” Lucas chimed in, smiling as he picked Chloe up, trying to place her in my arms. I turned away, lying down on the bed. “She can have formula. I’m tired. I need to rest.”

I closed my eyes, and all I could see was the blood covering the ground from the moment my daughter died. I won’t let any of these monsters get away with this. I’m playing the long game now. Lucas Anderson, the man my father handpicked, was nothing more than a glorified errand boy at my dad’s company. Maybe it was my family’s wealth that gave him the perfect cover—everyone thought he was the ideal husband. Everyone, including me, believed I had found the best man on earth. It wasn’t until the end that I learned the truth. Lucas called it “suffering in silence for a better future.” But that future was never with me—it was always with Megan Stone. Megan had even timed her pregnancy to align with mine, delivering early by C-section to swap our babies. Chloe, the little snake, was born small and frail, premature. I had spent my last life nursing her back to health, pouring every bit of my energy into her. She grew strong enough to push me into the freezing Hudson River. Lucas had been my father’s top choice, a man he believed could help carry the burden of the family business. He had chosen Lucas from among the scholarship recipients he had sponsored, thinking Lucas had the potential to succeed. Dad said Lucas was handsome, disciplined, and hardworking—a man with promise. Mom, however, insisted I should marry someone from an equally wealthy family. But I was blinded by Lucas’s charm, convinced he was the one for me. I even talked my mom into supporting our marriage. Looking back now, I was completely blind and foolish. I never saw the rotten core underneath Lucas’s polished exterior. As for when Lucas and Megan started their affair, I have no idea. But Megan’s due date was after mine, so he had to have been cheating on me while I was pregnant. Once I got pregnant, my focus shifted entirely to Grace. I slowly handed over control of the family business to Lucas, thinking he could handle it. This time around, Lucas won’t get a single cent from the Evans fortune. Once I recovered physically, I moved into the luxury Park Avenue Postpartum Retreat I had reserved. Back when we got married, we didn’t dig deep enough into Lucas’s past. We didn’t realize he had been pining after Megan all along. I contacted Uncle George, the head of security at Evans Family Enterprises, to dig into Lucas’s life thoroughly. The fact that he had managed to evade a professional background check told me he had planned this for years. Lucas claimed to have no family—his parents were dead, and he didn’t keep in touch with relatives. My parents and I had pitied him, bending over backward to make him feel like part of our family. I had even suppressed my privileged upbringing, afraid of hurting his fragile ego. Looking back now, I realize I was nothing but a fool. A man who could abandon his own daughter to a homeless camp deserves nothing less than to lose everything and end up alone. Business was busy, and most of the time it was just me and that little snake, Chloe. Watching her, this ungrateful, feral child, made me clench my fists just to stop myself from choking her. Meanwhile, my true daughter, Grace, was out there suffering, while this monster lay in the most luxurious postpartum retreat money could buy. Maybe it was the icy glare in my eyes, but Chloe started to cry. And then—two loud sounds. She had soiled herself. In my past life, I had pushed through my disgust, changing her diapers and cleaning her up time and time again. But not this time. This time, I didn’t care if she got a rash that covered her entire face. I had already refused to breastfeed her, and even though Lucas tried to hide it, I could see the resentment in his eyes. He was already planning his revenge, no doubt. Too bad for him—this time, I’m the one keeping score. Without a penny to his name, Lucas, the dependent son-in-law, couldn’t survive without me. No matter how angry he was, he had no choice but to swallow it. My parents, always so thoughtful, had sent high-end, imported baby formula. But I rejected it outright. I insisted on the cheaper kind. Even the staff at the retreat gave me strange looks. They wondered how someone as wealthy as me could be so stingy with a newborn. Some of them whispered that I must really favor boys over girls to act this way.

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The old lady next door lives alone, and she’s been mooching off my meals every day. One night, she suddenly fell ill. Out of kindness, I took her to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with late-stage colon cancer. Before I could even comfort her, her overly protective son accused me of poisoning her with my cooking. He went so far as to push me down a flight of stairs. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the moment when Mrs. Ruth Johnson had tagged me in the Nextdoor Community Group, asking me to bring her food. 0 “Sarah, are you there?” Early in the morning, Mrs. Ruth Johnson, my elderly neighbor, tagged me in the Nextdoor Community Group right on time. I stared at her message on my phone, a little dazed. Didn’t her son push me down the stairs? How can I still be seeing messages in the group? I quickly pinched my arm. Nope, I was still alive—and back to when Mrs. Johnson had just started living alone. “Sarah, I know you can see this. Can you open the door? I need to talk to you.” “You can just tell me in the group chat. I’m not really available right now.” I tried to make my reply sound as casual as possible. Mrs. Johnson posted again in the Nextdoor Community Group. “Sarah, you’re such a kind soul. My gas is out, and I don’t know how to refill the tank. Could you bring me a meal?” Her tone was so pitiful. In my past life, I was fooled by that frail and helpless act, which led me to take care of her—ultimately costing me my life! This time around, there’s no way I’m signing my own death sentence. “Gas? I don’t know how to refill it either. Why don’t you give your son a call to help you out?” I replied on purpose, but Mrs. Johnson responded like it was the most natural thing. “My son’s not around. Sarah, could you help me? You’ve always been there for me in the past.” “I’m just an old lady living on my own. If I starve to death, you being my neighbor—won’t your conscience hurt?” “Yeah, Sarah, we’re all neighbors here. What’s the harm in lending a hand?” Suddenly, someone else chimed in—it was Michael Adams, another neighbor on my floor. I smirked. “Lend a hand”? It’s never been easy for me. I’m swamped with work, so I make a simple packed lunch to bring to the office. Since Mrs. Johnson started mooching, she’s been picky about what she eats, demanding I get up at dawn to shop for her favorites at the farmer’s market. The time I wasted each day could have been enough to sit down for eight meals after work. My expenses went up fast, too. Last time around, I cooked for her for a whole month. In the end, she got cancer and blamed my cooking. I still don’t know what got into me last time. All it took was for her to ask, and I’d give in. Taking a deep breath, I replied to the nosy neighbor. “My gas is out too. Hey, Michael, you live closer to SoCalGas, don’t you? How about you help both Mrs. Johnson and me with the gas?” As soon as I sent the message, Michael backed out, “I’ve been working long hours at the construction site. No time to make it to the gas company.” “Sorry, gotta run—boss is calling.” Michael stopped responding after that. He’s always been the type to preach about kindness but never lifts a finger when it’s his turn to help. Mrs. Johnson, still with no dinner after all that back-and-forth, wasn’t ready to give up. She tagged me again. “Sarah, what are you busy with? Maybe I can wait until you’re done?” “I twisted my ankle. The doctor says I won’t be walking for at least a month or two.” “That long?” Mrs. Johnson sounded shocked. “Well then, I won’t trouble you. I can’t wait that long.” Mrs. Johnson stopped messaging in the Nextdoor Community Group. Finally, the tension left my body, and I started packing. It was time to cancel my lease and move out of this place. In my previous life, Mrs. Johnson’s son pushed me off a building at the hospital. I’ll never forget the terror of that fall, and I sure don’t want to experience it again. The best choice is to stay as far away from Mrs. Johnson as possible. 0

At 3 a.m., I was jolted awake by a notification from the group chat. It was a voice call initiated by none other than Steven Johnson, Mrs. Johnson’s son. When I didn’t answer, he started ranting in the group. “Sarah, are you even human? My mom’s out of gas and asked you for a meal, and you couldn’t be bothered?” “She’s an elderly woman! If she starves to death at home, can you live with that?” What a lunatic. How is it my responsibility if his mom eats or not? “She’s your mom, not mine. Besides, I’m not a restaurant. If I make her something and she gets sick, I’m not taking the blame!” “You’ve already made her food two or three times! You’re clearly trying to starve her to death on purpose!” Steven was completely unreasonable, and I lost it. “I sprained my ankle! I can barely make food for myself, let alone for your mom.” “If you care so much, why don’t you come over and cook for her yourself?” I muted the group chat immediately. This guy’s insane. Just because I didn’t cook for his mom, he comes ranting at me in the middle of the night? I’m not Mrs. Johnson’s daughter or her caretaker. Why should I be responsible for her? If I had known how this would play out, I would have refused her the first time she asked to mooch off my meals. Out of pity, I gave her a little extra when I cooked. She was a lonely, frail old lady who couldn’t even get a hot meal. I didn’t expect her to latch onto me like a leech. But my kindness wasn’t met with gratitude from either her or her son. Instead, they took it for granted, assuming it was my duty to help. The next morning, Mrs. Johnson started tagging me relentlessly in the Nextdoor Community Group again. I had the group muted and didn’t even see the messages. Besides, I’d already called the moving company and was ready to get out of there as soon as I sold my apartment. It was the smell of smoke that woke me up later. There was a crowd gathered at Mrs. Johnson’s door, and the firefighters looked annoyed. “Ma’am, even if you’re living alone, you’ve got to keep an eye on the stove.” “If the property manager hadn’t noticed the smoke, this whole building could’ve gone up.” “Seriously! We just had these walls repainted, and now they’ll need to be redone because of this mess. What a waste of money!” The property management staff complained. Mrs. Johnson didn’t dare make a peep, standing by the door, all meek and quiet. Michael had just come back from his night shift. After hearing what happened, he immediately spoke up for Mrs. Johnson. “Come on, folks. It wasn’t intentional. She’s an old lady living by herself. A little mistake is understandable. The important thing is no one got hurt.” Mrs. Johnson instantly put on a tearful face. “It’s okay, Michael. I don’t blame anyone. This is definitely my fault, but I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.” “I was starving all day yesterday and messaged Sarah this morning to help me make some porridge, but she didn’t respond. I was starting to worry something had happened to her. Now that I see her walking around, I feel so much better…” Her passive-aggressive tone made my blood boil. What annoyed me even more was that Michael, always the good guy, believed her without question and turned to scold me. “Sarah, what’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you reply to Mrs. Johnson’s messages? You’re perfectly fine, and she nearly burned the building down because of you.” I watched them play off each other, smiling coldly on the inside. But on the surface, I put on a guilty expression, ready to play along. “I’m really sorry. My ankle’s been hurting so much, and some jerk was yelling at me last night. I barely slept until this morning.” “If it weren’t for the smoke, I’d probably still be passed out right now.” Michael, always eager for gossip, leaned in, curious. “Who was yelling at you in the middle of the night? Is this person unhinged or something? Did you do something to set them off?” “Ugh!” I sighed heavily. “It was Mrs. Johnson’s son.” “He started yelling at me around 3 a.m. because I didn’t cook for his mom. He tagged me in the group chat just to curse me out.” As I said this, I glanced around at the other neighbors who had gathered to watch the drama unfold. I raised my voice a little to make sure they could hear. “Hey, neighbors, we’re all part of this community. Mrs. Johnson is an elderly woman living alone, so let’s help where we can.” “I’ve got a hurt ankle and can’t cook for her. Maybe someone else could make a meal and share it with Mrs. Johnson?” As soon as I finished speaking, the place fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Everyone had seen Steven’s outburst in the group chat the day before. Nobody wanted to deal with that kind of trouble. After what seemed like an eternity, someone muttered under their breath. “When my mom lived alone, she still cooked for herself. It’s not really fair to expect the neighbors to do it.” “Yeah, sure, elderly people need help sometimes, but she’s got a son. It’s not our job to take care of her.” With that, the crowd dispersed. 0

Michael noticed Mrs. Johnson’s face turning sour, so he tried to console her, playing the good guy again. “Mrs. Johnson, don’t let those selfish people bother you.” I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, no compassion at all.” “Michael, I know you cook at home often, and you’re right across the hall from Mrs. Johnson. How about you make her some meals over the next few days?” Michael’s expression instantly changed to one of pure panic. “My cooking’s terrible. I doubt Mrs. Johnson would even like it.” “But your dad’s a retired chef from a fancy hotel. Surely cooking for an elderly neighbor wouldn’t be too difficult?” Michael’s dad lived with him, and the two were known for their nightly meals and occasional drinks, the aromas wafting through the halls for everyone to enjoy. Michael’s face turned pale. “That’s not gonna work! We only cook stuff that goes well with a drink. Mrs. Johnson’s tastes are different. And anyway, what if something goes wrong and she gets sick? Who’s gonna be responsible?” See? He knew all along how risky it was, but it only mattered when it wasn’t his responsibility. Smiling, I played along. “Exactly, Michael. You know how dangerous it is to feed someone else. So why didn’t you warn me when I was cooking for Mrs. Johnson a few days ago?” “Luckily, nothing happened. Michael, you wouldn’t have let me take the blame on purpose, would you?” Sweat began dripping down Michael’s back as he stammered out a response. “I—I just didn’t think of it until now. Anyway, I’ve been working nights, so I should probably get some sleep.” Michael made a hasty exit. Mrs. Johnson shot me a glance from the doorway, her face a twisted mix of frustration and defeat. “Never mind. It was just a moment of carelessness on my part. I’ll make sure to be more careful in the kitchen from now on.” “As for what happened yesterday, my son definitely overreacted. Please don’t take it to heart, Sarah.” I thought for a moment that Mrs. Johnson had finally changed her ways. But it turns out, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Later that afternoon, community volunteers came by to drop off supplies—bags of flour, rice, and oil—to help Mrs. Johnson out. But she looked at the items with pure disdain. “I don’t eat this kind of oil. It’s all GMO. Not healthy at all.” “And what am I supposed to do with flour? I’m an old woman! Do you expect me to knead dough on my own?” The community workers exchanged awkward glances. Then Mrs. Johnson’s gaze shifted to the takeout bag in my hand. “Sarah, that takeout smells delicious. Why don’t you give me a bite?” “Mrs. Johnson, this takeout is all processed junk food. It’s not good for you at your age. You should really stick to cooking at home.” I quickly grabbed my takeout and closed the door, devouring it in record time. In my past life, I’d ordered takeout for Mrs. Johnson plenty of times. She was picky, only wanting the priciest meals. One time, when a heavy rainstorm delayed the delivery, she refused to eat the food and called to complain. “Sarah, what is this garbage you ordered? It’s cold and inedible!” “Take it back home with you when you get off work. I’m not touching it!” Of course, she never paid me for any of the takeout. Looking back, I can’t believe how I was such a pushover—working like a dog, too broke to order food for myself, yet still paying out of pocket to get her the best meals. After finishing my takeout, I reclined on the balcony, enjoying the breeze in my lounge chair. This relaxed life was heaven. Suddenly, the video doorbell buzzed, alerting me to someone at the door. It was Mrs. Johnson again, I assumed, back to cause more trouble. But when I checked the live feed, I saw a man standing there instead. Judging by his posture, he looked a lot like Michael’s dad. And right now, the two of them were holding hands, exchanging glances so intense you could almost see sparks flying between them. Well, well, well. Looks like there’s more to this story than I thought. 0

Mrs. Johnson was practically draped over John Adams, working her charm like she had perfected the art. “John, if it weren’t for you, I don’t know what would’ve happened. I really thought I was at the end of my rope,” she said, her voice trembling for effect. “I was so hungry that I collapsed just outside my door.” John, ever the gentleman, responded quickly. “Why didn’t you say anything? I’m a retired chef! Making a meal for you would’ve been no trouble at all.” Mrs. Johnson kept her tone soft, still pulling at his emotions. “How could I impose? Besides, your son mentioned that the meals you make at home are all too heavy, more suited for a glass of whiskey. I’m not sure I’d be able to handle it…” John bristled at the mention of his son. “Michael’s talking nonsense! We eat hearty, delicious food every day. Tell you what, why don’t I whip up a nice chicken pot pie for you?” Mrs. Johnson hesitated for effect. “Won’t Michael mind?” That set John off. “Mind? What business is it of his? I make the rules in my house!” Mrs. Johnson smiled sweetly. “You’re too kind, John. Anyone lucky enough to be a part of your family is truly blessed.” With that, she had him wrapped around her finger. John was practically glowing from her praise, and off he went to cook her a meal. I couldn’t help but laugh. Mrs. Johnson hadn’t lost her touch. In no time at all, she had found her next target—a free personal chef. I could only imagine Michael’s face when he came home to find that the pot pie meant for his dinner had been devoured by Mrs. Johnson. Satisfied with the little drama, I ordered another round of takeout and spent the rest of the afternoon lounging comfortably. As I settled down to watch a movie, my phone buzzed—there was a flurry of activity in the Nextdoor Community Group. “Mrs. Johnson, couldn’t you have discussed whatever it was in person? Did my dad really need to go over to your place in the middle of the night?” “What’s going on that you have to drag him into this mess?” Michael’s post read. Mrs. Johnson wasted no time replying. “I just wanted to thank your father for making me dinner. Michael, I think you’re overreacting.” “Overreacting? My dad has never once cooked for me in years. Then suddenly he’s making you pot pie? I’ve never even had his pot pie!” Michael fumed in the chat. Frustrated, John finally chimed in. “That’s enough! Mrs. Johnson needs help, and I’m more than happy to provide it. You’re a grown man—do you still expect me to cook your meals? Seriously, Michael, stop being selfish!” The chat had clearly caught everyone’s attention. Michael, in a fit of rage, continued. “Stop being selfish? I bust my butt working all day and come home to relax with a drink and a decent meal, but now my food is going to someone else? And let’s not forget—this woman had the nerve to cozy up to you, and now you’re at her place all the time!” He wasn’t holding back. I hadn’t expected him to air their dirty laundry so openly. The other neighbors jumped in, unable to resist. “This does seem a bit much.” “Yeah, getting free meals is one thing, but turning the chef into your personal servant is another.” “Careful, Mrs. Johnson, if you steal our building’s prized cook, Michael’s going to starve.” The comments kept rolling in, getting more and more out of hand. Mrs. Johnson remained silent, no doubt furious but unable to retaliate. I let the chaos play out in the group while I turned back to my movie. But the next morning, I woke to a different kind of chaos. Standing at my front door was Steven Johnson. And in his hand was a knife.

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Chris Harper and I had been married for five years, and in that time, he had dated at least ten girlfriends. So when Lily Parker showed up at his side, my friends all told me: “Chris is just having fun. Don’t take it seriously.” But I knew better. Chris was serious this time. More serious than anyone realized. “Hey, I heard it’s your wedding anniversary with Chris today.” “How about we make a bet? Let’s see who can keep Chris. Whoever loses will gracefully step aside.” That popped up in my text messages. It was a challenge from Lily Parker, Chris’s new girlfriend. I thought it was childish, so I didn’t respond. Instead, I smiled and returned to the Grand Ballroom at The Waldorf Astoria, where all eyes were on the star of the night. Chris noticed me immediately and smiled as he walked over, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t look well.” Our friends nearby cheered us on, saying how Chris and I were still as in love as ever, how our marriage had withstood the test of time. Some joked, urging Chris to treat me well and not regret anything later. Chris navigated the crowd effortlessly, like a fish in water. I stayed by his side, the perfect accessory, putting on the appropriate smile. Halfway through the night, the host grabbed the microphone and invited Chris to come up and say a few words. Chris nodded and turned to me. “I have a gift for you,” he said. I smiled back. “Great.” The next second, his phone rang. The ringtone was jarring. Chris paused, hesitant, but after a moment, he continued toward the stage, picked up the microphone, and finished his greetings to the crowd. His eyes then locked onto mine. “Today is our fifth wedding anniversary.” “You once mentioned liking an island.” “I bought it for you as an anniversary gift.” His assistant handed him a contract, but as soon as it was in his hands, the phone rang again. The ringtone cut through the atmosphere like a knife, and I saw a flash of panic in Chris’s eyes. I turned to look behind me, and my heart skipped a beat. Standing on the outskirts of the crowd was the girl from the profile picture—the one I’d seen in the text message. She stood there, holding her phone, silently mouthing, “Answer it.” Her eyes were bright, but there was a faint mist over them. She mouthed the words again, “Answer the call.” Against my better judgment, I turned back toward Chris. The contract slipped from Chris’s hands as he answered the call. The girl’s voice, strained with emotion, echoed through the ballroom. “Chris.” “I’m breaking up with you.” There was a pause, then she dropped the bomb. “And I’m getting rid of this baby.” “Chris,” she continued in a soft, broken voice. “I don’t want you anymore.” And then, she hung up. The whole room went silent. No one noticed the girl in the simple white dress turning to leave after delivering her message. But Chris did. Not only did he notice, but without hesitation, he threw down the microphone and rushed out of the ballroom. The girl’s earlier challenge echoed in my mind: How about we make a bet? Let’s see who can keep Chris. Suddenly panicked, I lost all sense of decorum. Lifting the hem of my dress, I ran after him. I grabbed his hand, pleading, “Don’t go.” “Chris.” “Please, don’t leave.” I had always been composed, always the graceful Mrs. Harper. I was the girl Chris picked out of all the others in the foster care home, the one he chose to be the wife of the Harper family. I was the one who stayed by his side, even though I knew that our relationship was based more on years of growing up together than on passion. Yet, despite it all, I had fallen hopelessly in love with him. “Chris.” Tears streamed down my face. My voice broke. “Please, don’t leave.”

I held onto Chris’s hand so tightly that I was shaking. Then, I saw the disappointment in his eyes as he turned to face me. “Sarah,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “She’s different from you. She has nothing without me.” “You have everything,” Chris said, gently prying my fingers off. “But she only has me.” He let go of my hand. I fell to the floor, my newly done nails scraping against the carpet, splitting open as blood welled up from the cuts. The pain left me speechless. Chris hesitated for a moment when he saw me on the ground, but then, he turned and walked away. I couldn’t stop him, and I became the joke of the evening. Everyone tried to comfort me. “Chris is just used to running wild. He’s always had his flings.” “If he was going to settle down, he would have done it already.” “Sarah, don’t be upset. You and Chris grew up together. You’ve got years of history. No one can replace that.” “That girl’s just trying to use the baby to climb her way up. You’ve seen girls like her before. Don’t let it bother you.” Everyone kept telling me not to take it seriously. That Chris was just playing around. They told me not to invest my emotions. Some even suggested that I should play the same game, act weak, and beat the other woman at her own game. Everyone had an excuse for Chris. No one wanted to admit that Chris had actually fallen for her. But I knew. Chris was more invested than he’d ever been. The party ended early, and when I got home, Chris still wasn’t back. The maid had already made ginger tea and left it on the dining table. Beside it was a bouquet of roses Chris had bought earlier. The vibrant red of the roses only made me feel more pathetic in the quiet night. I went to the bedroom and saw our wedding photo. For a moment, I felt dazed. I walked over to the nightstand, took down the photo, and began cutting it into pieces with a pair of scissors. Then I smashed everything in the carefully decorated room in a fit of rage. Finally, I collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I cried until midnight, when the room was pitch dark. The only light came from my phone, the screen piercing my eyes. I opened the message. It was from Lily. A picture of her and Chris holding hands. Then, a voice message. And some text. The voice message was their conversation. She asked him, “When you left your wife behind, do you think she’ll blame you? Am I being too selfish, forgetting my place?” Without hesitation, Chris responded, “No one is more important than you.” “As long as you’re okay.” “That’s all that matters.” Chris’s voice felt like a thousand needles piercing my body. My chest tightened in pain as I read Lily’s text. You lost. Chris doesn’t love you. Give up your place as Mrs. Harper. Don’t make this messier than it has to be. Chris didn’t come home that night. I didn’t care anymore. I’d cried myself dry. The years we spent growing up together were over, and I was the only one left clinging to the past. It was laughable. As I packed my bags to leave, my phone rang. Chris’s voice came through, hoarse. “Sarah, Lily’s young and immature. You’ve always been the understanding one, but last night, you really crossed the line.” “How could you embarrass me like that?” “I don’t want this to happen again.”

I used to love hearing Chris’s voice. My father was a gambler, and after he lost everything, he tried to force my mother to sell herself to pay off his debts. She refused, and one stormy night, she fled with me. My father chased us through the streets with a knife. In the end, she hid me in a trash bin at the alleyway’s edge, and I watched as my father hacked her to death that night. The downpour. The endless lightning. And my father’s eerie whistling, coaxing me out. Those moments haunted my nightmares for years. Every time there was a thunderstorm, Chris would hold me tight, gently patting my back, whispering, “Sarah, don’t be scared.” “I’m here.” For those years, Chris became my only emotional anchor. Naturally, he became the only light in my life. But last night, even with the storm raging outside and lightning flashing, Chris wasn’t the one comforting me anymore. He’d forgotten that I get scared, forgotten that I need someone too. He could wake up the next morning without any remorse, blaming me for making him look bad. If love is something that builds over time, then not loving is like flipping an hourglass. My hand trembled as I held my phone, staring at the now-clear sky, tears still spilling, my chest aching. But I had to maintain my dignity. I had to hold onto what little composure I had left. So I said to Chris: “The divorce papers are on the table.” “I’ll only take what’s rightfully mine. Nothing more.” Before he could respond, I hung up. I blocked his number and deleted his contact, breathing heavily as I realized that cutting ties with someone you’ve loved for so long was like weaning a child off milk. But that’s okay. I was willing to let time heal me. I was ready to move forward. I’d booked the next available flight. To Portland, Maine. The place I’d once dreamed of moving to with Chris, where I’d imagined us living a simple life. I had asked him once, naively, if we could ever just be a regular couple, living in a small town together until we grew old. Chris had laughed at my innocence but then turned serious. “I don’t want to be ordinary.” “Small-town life comes with no room for error, no risks to take.” “I want to be somebody.” “I want to make you somebody, someone everyone looks up to.” Back then, Chris seemed to glow like a hero—a real-life hero, at least to me. He achieved everything he set out to do. Even though he drifted through countless flings during our five years of marriage, no one dared to speak ill of me. He always protected me, never letting me get hurt by the women who came and went. We had an unspoken agreement. I would fulfill my role as Mrs. Harper, and he would always keep me in the most important spot in his life. That was enough. But I had forgotten something. Human nature is easily tempted. And when a new woman lights a fire in Chris, the flames will spread uncontrollably. My once-brave knight no longer fought for me but instead turned his sword toward me. I chose not to fight back. I chose to walk away, giving them what they wanted. And giving myself the freedom I needed.

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My older sister Crystal has a savior complex. She thought our housekeeper was pitiful and wanted me to become her daughter instead. I enthusiastically agreed and went with her that very day to handle the paperwork. Whoever she felt sorry for, she could go be their daughter herself. In this life, she took my place being sold to the countryside and becoming a plaything. “Our housekeeper Mrs. Johnson is so pitiful. Her daughter isn’t even by her side. Why don’t you change your surname and become her daughter?” my older sister Crystal said. I wasn’t surprised at all to hear this from her. Instead, I clapped my hands in agreement. “Sister, you’re such a good person!” That same day, I went with her to handle the relevant paperwork. However, the one who ended up changing surnames wasn’t me, but my sister Crystal. I had secretly swapped the documents, and she didn’t notice at all. After all, she was used to me obeying her every word. When we got home, she started ordering the servants around. “Oh, and starting today, set one less place at the table.” “You’re right, sister. Since you’re no longer part of our family, you really shouldn’t be eating at the same table as me,” I said nonchalantly as I sat down in the main seat and started eating. “Ruby, what nonsense are you talking about? You’re the one who’s supposed to become the housekeeper’s daughter,” Crystal said, glaring at me with a sour expression. “Oh? Sister, did you misunderstand something?” I asked calmly, not even bothering to look at her as I took out the agreement from my bag and tossed it to her. Crystal picked up the agreement and only had to glance at it for a few seconds before her eyes widened in shock. “Ruby, you little bitch! How dare you trick me!” “From now on, we’re changing the rules in this house. I eat at the table, while the housekeeper doesn’t. You can only eat my leftovers. Got it?” I said, looking down at her from my seat. “Ruby, have you gone mad? How dare you talk to me like this? Do you have a death wish? I’m your sister!” Crystal shouted angrily. I took out two identification booklets. “Look carefully. Your registration is no longer in the same booklet as mine. You’re just our housekeeper’s daughter now. If you keep talking back, I might just throw you out.” Crystal has always had a savior complex, feeling pity for everyone she saw. But every time she made a sacrifice, it was always at my expense. When we were little, she saw a beggar on the street and thought he looked lonely and pitiful. So she left me there to be the beggar’s daughter. If our parents hadn’t found me in time, I would have been sold off to some far-off place. In school, she felt sorry for the school bullies because they didn’t have parents around. She hung out with them every day and even brought them home. I was just a child then, and they used me as their punching bag. I nearly lost my life. As she grew older, it only got worse. She sympathized with our housekeeper who had only been with us for two months. “Mrs. Johnson is so pitiful. Her daughter isn’t even by her side. You should go be her daughter.” In my previous life, after I refused, she secretly changed my surname behind my back and forcibly sent me to be the housekeeper’s daughter. She told our parents I was just away on a study trip. In the end, she conspired with outsiders to steal all the money from our family. She even poisoned our parents, causing them both to die from the toxins. She even had me kidnapped and taken to the countryside, where she gave me to the housekeeper’s brother as a wife. I was locked in a cellar for three years, enduring inhuman torture every day. After multiple failed escape attempts, I chose to bite off my own tongue and end my life. When I woke up again, it was to Crystal saying: “Sister, why don’t you go be the housekeeper’s daughter?” This time, I clapped my hands in agreement and took the initiative. I absolutely wouldn’t let her have any opportunity to act against me. I pushed her towards the door. “Mom and Dad will be so proud of you. Don’t worry.” “Crystal, oh, I should call you Jenna Johnson now. If you’re not happy with this, why don’t you go find your housekeeper mom and have her take you back to the countryside?” I said with a cold smile. Crystal stomped her foot and walked away. “Ruby, just you wait. I’ll make you pay for this.” So Crystal went to our parents’ company to plead her case. My heart tightened. In my previous life, Crystal had caused our parents to fall gravely ill. Even with their dying breaths, they were still trying to persuade her to face reality. In this life, I was sure our parents would continue to indulge her. But the result was beyond my expectations. Crystal hadn’t even seen our parents before she was kicked out by the security at the front desk. “The CEO said he only has one daughter named Ruby. We’re not to let anyone else see them,” the guard said. I was overjoyed and rushed to find my parents. The moment I saw them, I couldn’t hold back my tears. “Mom, Dad, I’ve missed you so much.” The three of us embraced, and they said, “Ruby, don’t worry. In this life, we’ll definitely protect you properly.” I looked up at them. As I had guessed, my parents had also been reborn. It was a relief. I had been worrying about how to persuade my parents to see through Crystal’s true nature. Now it was settled – the three of us would get our revenge on Crystal together. She thought she had the biggest heart for others? Well, I’d let her be a good person all the way. She could go take care of Mrs. Johnson’s family in the countryside.

Over the next few days, I found fault with everything Mrs. Johnson did at home. I climbed up a ladder to the top of a cabinet, wiped it with my hand, and showed her the dust. “How do you do your job? You can’t even clean a cabinet properly. Maybe you should just pack your bags and get out.” Mrs. Johnson’s legs trembled in fear. Crystal came to support her. “Ruby, what’s wrong with you? Can’t you see how hard Mrs. Johnson’s life is? She’s already so unfortunate, why are you making things difficult for her?” “Oh, is that so? Then why don’t you clean it instead? It’s not strange for a daughter to help her mother, right?” I said indifferently. If I hadn’t lived through another life, I wouldn’t be so harsh on Mrs. Johnson. But now I knew she wasn’t a good person either. She took a high salary from our family, but not only did she slack off and not do her work properly, she also ordered others around. After she left her job in my previous life, she even slandered our family online. She even encouraged Crystal to sell me to their hometown to be her brother’s daughter-in-law. For someone like her, I wanted to tear her to pieces. “It’s okay, I don’t mind working harder. I have a big family to support at home,” Mrs. Johnson said, wiping away her tears. Crystal became even angrier. “Ruby, you’re going too far. We won’t put up with your attitude anymore.” She stepped forward, about to slap me, but I pushed her away first. Crystal was furious. She helped Mrs. Johnson up and said, “Mrs. Johnson, let’s go. We won’t stay here any longer!” “We just renewed Mrs. Johnson’s contract recently. If you leave now, you’ll have to pay a penalty fee,” I said gleefully. “You… Fine, I’ll pay the penalty fee if that’s what it takes,” Crystal said. With those words, I immediately had people pack up Mrs. Johnson’s belongings and throw them out. Why weren’t there any of Crystal’s belongings? Because everything she owned belonged to our family. She couldn’t take a single thing with her. She still clung to her designer bags, refusing to let go. “These are all mine. Why can’t I take them with me?” I went over with a dark expression. “Miss Johnson, have you forgotten? When you bought these things, your surname was Huang. But now, your surname is Johnson.” Seeing that I wouldn’t budge, Crystal tried to appeal to my emotions. “Sister, don’t you remember? I’m your older sister. I watched you grow up. How can you be so heartless to me? Even if my surname is Johnson now, I’m still your sister.” I shook off her hand. “Sister? You mean the sister who gave away my things for free to a bunch of good-for-nothings from childhood to adulthood?” “Or the sister who falsely accused me of stealing?” Once, there was a thief at school who stole many things. To protect her friend, Crystal publicly accused me of being the thief in front of everyone. She even hid her belongings in my schoolbag. I was isolated and insulted by everyone. It wasn’t until later that I found out the real thief was Crystal’s classmate. To protect her, Crystal had lied and said I was the thief. “How can you be so petty? That was so long ago. I just felt sorry for them. You should have some compassion too,” Crystal said, rolling her eyes disdainfully. “Yes, you have the biggest heart. No one’s heart is bigger than yours. So now, please leave,” I said, pointing to the open door. “You… Mom and Dad would never allow you to kick me out. Stop putting on an act,” Crystal said, crossing her arms confidently. The next moment, our parents walked in. “Your mother is that housekeeper outside. Don’t call the wrong person.” Crystal’s eyes widened. “Mom, Dad, how can you be like this too? Didn’t you always teach me to be kind to others?” “We taught you to be kind, but we never taught you to help bad people. Don’t try to pin this on us,” our father said sternly. “What good people or bad people? You’re just prejudiced against them. They’re more pitiful than anyone else. If you won’t help them, I will!” Crystal said angrily as she pushed past our mother and walked out. Crystal took Mrs. Johnson’s hand affectionately and said, “Mom, let’s go. From now on, I’ll be your real daughter.” Mrs. Johnson smiled at her, but for some reason, it sent chills down my spine. I sent a lawyer to claim compensation from Mrs. Johnson for breaching the contract. Crystal probably emptied out all her savings. She sent me a message: [Ruby, just you wait.]

Sure enough, a few days later, Mrs. Johnson posted a video online claiming that we had abused her, treated her as less than human, and humiliated her. When she worked as our housekeeper, she had earned quite a bit of money and gained many followers by bragging about working in a mansion. Now, all her followers began to speak up for her. “Just because you’re rich, you think you’re better than everyone else?” “What’s wrong with a housekeeper working honestly? Why look down on her?” In this life, Mrs. Johnson directly exposed photos of our family and our home address. Many angry people came to throw rotten eggs at our front door. “My dear sister, are you scared now? This is just the first step,” Crystal called me as soon as she saw the online comments. It was clear that she had been the one to suggest this idea to Mrs. Johnson. “Heh, sister, don’t end up outsmarting yourself,” I replied. After waiting for the comments to reach a certain number that evening, I began my counterattack. I registered a new account called “Exposing Housekeeper Johnson’s True Face”. It contained footage from security cameras, recording various scenes of Mrs. Johnson working at our house. She used instant meal kits instead of cooking properly, picked up food that had been licked by dogs and continued to use it, and touched food with her hands right after scratching her bottom. Every detail was enough to make one lose their appetite. The videos she posted online were nothing more than staged performances. And this was just the first step. The tone of the netizens’ comments clearly changed. “Oh my god, I wouldn’t even dare to buy such dirty food from a street vendor.” I then released another video showing how Mrs. Johnson, relying on Crystal’s favoritism, deliberately oppressed the other housekeepers. When we weren’t home, she acted like the mistress of the house, verbally abusing the other housekeepers, bossing them around, and taking credit for their work. “Pah, a lousy housekeeper dares to eat the same food as me? Know your place,” Mrs. Johnson said in the video. This thoroughly angered the netizens.

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After entering college, I ignored the school rules. Gradually, I found that no one in the dormitory remembered me anymore. I screamed loudly in front of them, but they couldn’t hear me; I danced wildly in front of them, but they couldn’t see me. I hurriedly flipped through the group photos we had taken together in our dorm, wanting to prove my existence to them, But I accidentally discovered that there were two people I didn’t recognize standing next to me in the photos… My name is Rachel Lane, and I’m a sophomore in college. With my poor grades, I got into this low-ranking university. After arriving, I felt bored every day. At first, I could obediently follow the school rules and attend classes seriously. Later, I found it meaningless, so I skipped classes every day to sleep and play games in the dorm. That’s how I made it to sophomore year. One day, I got down from my bed to go to the cafeteria for food and found my roommates were all downstairs. I asked if they had eaten, but strangely, no one answered me. I walked away awkwardly. When I came back, I realized I had forgotten my key. So I knocked on the door, hoping my roommate would open it for me. After a while, the door opened. It was Samantha, the head of our dorm. I thanked her. But she seemed not to see me and said to the other two in the dorm, “How strange, someone knocked but there’s no one here.” I thought they were playing a game with me, so I went along with it and said, “Yeah, because I’m a ghost!” Still, no one responded to me. I felt weird and said, “Have you had enough? I admit your acting is very good. Hey!” I raised my voice and shouted at them. Next, I made faces and jumped around in front of them, but they still ignored me. “I suddenly realized that I haven’t seen Rachel all day,” one of them said. “Maybe she’s sleeping up there again. She played games all night last night!” “But she can’t skip meals. I’ll go call her!” Samantha called out to my bed. I climbed up to my bed, thinking that if they couldn’t see me when I actively moved around in front of them, maybe they could see me if they actively came to find me. Samantha pulled open my bed curtain and saw me looking expectant. She couldn’t help but smile. “Get up, it’s time to eat!” Thank God, they could finally see me. I couldn’t help but hug Samantha, forgiving them for their earlier game. But gradually, I found that no one in the dormitory remembered me anymore. I screamed loudly in front of them, but they couldn’t hear me; I danced wildly in front of them, but they couldn’t see me. I confirmed that they weren’t acting, but really couldn’t see me. Only when they actively wanted to find me could they see me. But slowly, even when they wanted to find me, they could barely remember my name… I hurriedly flipped through the group photos we had taken together in our dorm, wanting to prove my existence to them. But I accidentally discovered that there were two people I didn’t recognize standing next to me in the photos…

I was startled. Who were they? Why were they in the group photo with us? I saw a note next to the photo: “303, a family of six!” So, our dorm originally had 6 people! I broke out in a cold sweat. Perhaps two people, like my recent situation, had gradually been forgotten by others, as if their existence had been erased. I walked out of the dorm room and found that my name on the nameplate at the door had faded, as if it was about to disappear. There was a blank space under the words on the nameplate, as if two other names had once been written there. I also noticed places I had never paid attention to before. Throughout the dormitory building, there were 6-person, 5-person, 4-person rooms, and even 1-person rooms. Some dorms seemed to have disappeared, such as rooms 203, 502, and 409, which couldn’t be found. But no one found this strange, including my previous self, as if it was all normal. It seems this phenomenon wasn’t just happening in one dorm, but was widespread! But why was I being forgotten? Why did my other two roommates and some dorms in the building disappear? Suddenly, I looked up and saw a large warning sign in the dorm corridor. It listed the school rules: 1. Always remember your student identity and obey school rules; 2. Each person enters school with 50 initial credits, violating one rule deducts 2 points, severe consequences when all points are lost; 3. After lights out in the dorm, please lie down immediately, close your eyes, and no matter what happens, don’t open them; 4. Wake up at 7 am every day to listen to the principal’s speech in the auditorium, no sleeping or talking during this time; 5. No being late or leaving early for class, no sleeping or talking in class; 6. You can earn 2 credits by doing volunteer cleaning activities for the school; 7. No asking for leave or leaving school, good students persist in attending class even when sick~ 8. If you have any problems, find the counselor, although he may not help you; 9. The higher the grade, the greater the challenges, please be prepared. I recalled the scene of the first day I entered this school when many students saw these 9 rules. But everyone ignored these rules. We’re all college students now, how can we be managed so strictly? Is there any justice? Later, some students did violate these rules, but everyone saw that they didn’t seem to suffer any serious consequences, so gradually everyone became careless, and I was one of them. These school rules posted in plain sight every day were gradually ignored by everyone, but now they seemed very eye-catching on the wall. Combined with my recent experiences and discoveries, perhaps the severe consequences written in the rules were gradually being forgotten, then having one’s existence erased. Previously, people didn’t see any consequences for those who violated the rules, purely because everyone forgot about these people, until they themselves were erased from existence. I opened the school’s official website, which showed that my current credit score was 10 points. So the lower the credits, the closer one is to being forgotten by everyone and finally being erased from existence? I took a photo of these rules, planning to study them carefully back in the dorm.

For the next two days, I studied the school rules while constantly verifying them. Sure enough, as long as I violated the rules, my credits would automatically decrease, as if there was 24-hour monitoring on you. But as long as I followed the rules well, credits wouldn’t be deducted, but they wouldn’t increase either. As my score decreased, besides finding that I was being forgotten by people, many things that could prove my existence gradually disappeared, including photos, nameplates, and even my chat records in other people’s phones. Not only that, but I always heard someone knocking on the dorm door and windows when I slept at night. Then it felt like something was touching my feet, and there was a child’s wail in the distance. I was shaking with fear, but I didn’t dare open my eyes or call out to wake my roommates. Because I knew they could no longer hear my voice. Even if I called for help in any way, they couldn’t see or hear me, and couldn’t save me. I could only remember the rules and keep my eyes tightly closed. I tried to call for help, but I couldn’t remember my parents’ phone numbers or even what they looked like. I called the police, but couldn’t get through. I sent a message to the counselor saying I wanted to ask for leave to leave school, but he wouldn’t approve it no matter what. I was nearly breaking down, but I told myself I had to stay calm. Since I couldn’t get out, I had to ensure I wouldn’t disappear first. Currently, I only had 8 credits left. From now on, I must obey all the rules to ensure I don’t lose any more points, and I must also increase my credits! I went to find the counselor, thankfully he could still see me. I applied for a campus cleaning volunteer activity. He smiled, his mouth corners stretching to his ears, showing all his teeth. I saw some red liquid on his teeth and couldn’t help but shudder. He said unclearly, “Rachel, it’s you again. Not bad, not bad. For so many years, only you have been doing this consistently…” He rambled on about many things I couldn’t understand, and finally let me take the cleaning tools to find Old Joe the gardener. I didn’t have time to think deeply about the strangeness in his words. I grabbed the cleaning tools and ran towards the large lawn at the back of the school. The grass was overgrown here, with only Old Joe cutting it with a sickle. I told him who I was, but he didn’t say a word, just handed me a note that read: Volunteer content: Clear all the weeds and clean up everything that shouldn’t be here. During the volunteer work, no matter what happens, you cannot run away, or points will be deducted! Also, volunteer activities add 2 credits per hour, no more. Looking at my precarious credit score, I had no choice but to brace myself and start working. The activity wasn’t complicated, just very tiring. I kept clearing weeds and picking up trash non-stop. Suddenly I felt like I stepped on something. I looked down and saw it was an arm. My scalp tingled. The further I went, the more human limbs and body parts I found. By now it was dark. To earn more credits, I had been working for 3 hours since class ended. Hungry and exhausted, I started retching at the sight before me. At this moment, Old Joe walked over. His eyes were hollow, looking like a corpse in the moonlight. Then he said to me, “These things that shouldn’t be here need to be cleaned up too. Do it quickly, lights out in your dorm soon.” I stared with wide eyes, trembling as I said, “Joe, what’s going on here? Why not call the police?” Joe replied strangely, “Haven’t you cleaned this before? Don’t ask too much!” Forget it, nothing in this school surprises me anymore. After all, if they can erase people from existence, which is so unscientific, what else wouldn’t they dare to do? I just want to survive well first, then figure out what to do after ensuring I won’t disappear. I held my breath, forcing down the nausea as I cleaned up those things that shouldn’t be there. Before lights out in the dorm, I closed my eyes, but couldn’t sleep. Accompanied by those usual sounds and sensations tempting me to open my eyes, I kept replaying all the bizarre things that happened today. Why did the counselor and Old Joe seem to know me from before, when I had never sought them out before?

For the next few days, even though I was exhausted physically and mentally, I forced myself to wake up on time, obey school rules, and do volunteer work after class. I did 4 hours of volunteer work every day. Finally, after 5 days, I successfully added 40 credits, currently at 48 credits. Just 2 more credits and I’d be back to the initial credit score. Since I only needed to do 1 hour of volunteer work today, I came a bit later. On the 6th day coming to this lawn, it was still the same – cleared the day before, restored to its original state today. I couldn’t help but wonder about the meaning of this cleaning activity. But it didn’t matter, as long as I could add credits. In the evening, I returned to the dorm at 9 pm. My credits were now back to the initial 50 points. I was ecstatic because Samantha could now see me normally and hear me speak. Everything of mine was restored to its original state. My name on the nameplate at the dorm door was also restored. Samantha’s name and mine were on the left and right of the nameplate. Suddenly I thought of something and asked Samantha confusedly, “Samantha, is our dorm a two-person room?” “Hasn’t it always been? We’re almost done with sophomore year and you’re still asking?” she replied. My head hurt for a moment, then I nodded in affirmation. Yes, it’s always been two people. I don’t know why I just asked that. Oh right, there’s something more important! I took out my phone and called the police, reporting the school’s address. But they said there was no such school and warned me not to interfere with their work. What!? Why can’t the school be found outside? I tried to secretly climb over the school wall to escape, but it was useless. The school wall seemed ten stories high, impossible to climb over. I walked to the school gate and through the gaps in the iron bars, I saw that the outside was a blur. The security guards at the gate were tall and strong. Some held chainsaws, some held axes, staring at me with a pair of bloodshot, protruding eyes. I didn’t dare to act rashly. I wanted to ask other students for help, but I found their eyes were all very hollow, completely ignoring me. At this point, I thought of my roommate and quickly ran back to the dorm. On the way back to the dorm, I frowned, thinking, I live alone, where did the roommate come from? I still returned to the dorm. There was only one bunk bed with a desk underneath. I was more certain that only I lived in the dorm.

I still obediently followed the school rules, maintaining my 50 initial points. Since I couldn’t escape, and people outside couldn’t save me, I might as well follow the school rules well and be able to leave when the holiday comes, right? But I remember I haven’t been out for a long, long time. The school seems to have never had a holiday. I just became a sophomore. I went to ask the counselor when we could have a holiday. He still stared at me with that weird look, but there was no choice, the rules said we could only seek help from the counselor. He said unclearly, “No holidays, you’ll degenerate at home, won’t be good students anymore…” I asked again, “Sir, can we only leave after graduation?” He laughed loudly, the sound almost piercing my eardrums. After laughing, he said, “No one can persist until graduation… you degenerates!” I didn’t understand. Does it mean no one can leave? In the end, can everyone only be gradually erased from existence in this school? I must investigate this school well and find a way out. At 7 am, I woke up on time and went to the auditorium as usual to attend the principal’s speech. The content of the principal’s speech was the same every day: “Students, obey the school rules! Students, be good students! Students, listen to classes carefully! Students, …” The principal kept repeating these words, waving his hands as he spoke with great emotion, but his eyes were very small, so small they seemed to have disappeared, and only a mouth was speaking on his entire face. When I noticed this, I instantly broke out in a cold sweat. But every student around me didn’t find it strange. They stared blankly at the principal with hollow eyes. At the end of the speech, the principal suddenly announced that the students present had been promoted to junior year. After that day, I often felt more and more like a walking corpse. Numbly obeying school rules, my mind was in a fog, always feeling like I had forgotten something. I suddenly realized that the longer I stayed in this school, the easier it was to lose consciousness, become numb, and finally forget who I was. This perfectly proved the last rule of the school: the higher the grade, the greater the challenges indeed became as we stayed in school longer, but this challenge seemed to let no one win. The school made those who didn’t obey the rules be forgotten by others, and made those who obeyed the rules forget themselves. It seems that obeying the rules can’t guarantee that I can leave either. Is it destined that coming to this school means we can’t leave and will eventually disappear?

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During the Christmas holidays, my niece cut up my new dress. She looked at me with innocent eyes and said, “Aunt Rachel, I just wanted to make clothes for my doll. You won’t be mad at me, will you?” I handed her a gift: “Good girl, you did well. This is your reward.” Later, she destroyed a dress worth $30,000 at the mall. I hadn’t been back to my parents’ house for two years, not for any other reason, but because I was afraid of my spoiled and domineering little niece. I still remember the last time, when my eight-year-old niece destroyed all my makeup. She used lipstick as a paintbrush, smearing foundation and face cream everywhere. Not only that, but she also grabbed my phone and snatched my collectible figurines from the cabinet. Unable to bear it any longer, I shouted at the child. To my surprise, at such a young age, she played the victim, saying I bullied her. When my brother and sister-in-law found out, they didn’t do anything about it, just saying, “Rachel, your niece is still young, don’t take it personally.” My mom also sided with her little granddaughter: “Instead of buying all that makeup, you should give your niece some pocket money.” That day, I was furious. I didn’t go home for two years out of anger. Before the holidays this year, my mom made several FaceTime calls, promising that she wouldn’t let my niece touch any of my things again. Most importantly, she said she hadn’t been feeling well these past two years and wanted me to keep her company. My heart softened, and I bought a ticket home, taking a two-day train ride to get there.

Having learned from past experience, I locked all my expensive items in a suitcase and kept my phone with me at all times. After my brother and sister-in-law came in with their child, they let her run wild. My niece, who was already ten years old, showed no manners at all. Her first words to my mom weren’t a greeting, but rather she stretched out her hand, looking like she was demanding payment. My mom still smiled and took out some money, praising her: “My little Lily has grown up and become more beautiful.” Lily made a face, stuck out her tongue, and ran away. Sitting nearby, I felt very uncomfortable and said a few words. “Mom, you’re spoiling her too much. Look at her arrogant attitude, it’s clearly a lack of manners!” My mom waved her hand dismissively: “Lily is still young, she’ll get better as she grows up.” “She’s already ten years old, how is that still young? Besides, this is a basic education issue. If you don’t manage it now, it’ll be even harder to manage later.” “We’re all family, why do we need so many rules?” Just then, my sister-in-law Karen came out of the bathroom and heard our conversation. She took a couple of tissues to wipe her hands, then crumpled them into a ball and threw it in front of me. “Rachel, you’re not still holding a grudge about Lily ruining your lipstick last time, are you?” I cleared my throat and said, “Karen, I’m not dwelling on what happened last time. It’s just that Lily is so big now, and she’s a girl. She should be taught manners.” Karen frowned, the lines on her recently treated eyebrows not fully faded, making her look somewhat comical. “What does being a girl have to do with it? You’re a girl too. The internet says those old-fashioned rules are not good. Don’t tell me you’ve become foolish from too much studying.” “Karen, that’s not what I meant. Lily’s behavior really needs to be restrained.” “Our Lily is a good student in her class. We don’t need you to tell us how to educate her.” With that, she grabbed a bag of chips and started eating, giving me a side-eye. I wasn’t annoyed. I took out my chat history with a friend and showed it to my mom: “Mom, my friend is actually Lily’s math teacher. She told me that every child in the class gets a ‘good student’ award.” My mom held back a laugh and patted my thigh: “Well, that proves our Lily is no worse than other kids.” Karen quickly agreed: “That’s right, Rachel, don’t make trouble out of nothing.” What a joke, speaking the truth is making trouble? I was about to say something when my mom patted my thigh again. Fine, there’s no point talking to them. Since that’s the case, I’ll keep quiet.

At the dinner table, my parents, brother and sister-in-law, and a few other relatives were all present. Lily was poking around her plate with her fork, and soon a plate of salad was covered in her saliva. She pouted and threw down her fork: “Hmph, I don’t like salad. I want to eat barbecue.” Karen gave her a piece of barbecue, smiling and coaxing: “Sweetie, try the beef your grandma grilled.” Lily took one bite and immediately spat it out, complaining: “Yuck, it tastes awful. It’s not as good as what you make, Mom.” You should know that my mom and I had been busy in the kitchen all morning, with no one coming to help. Karen sat in the living room eating chips and watching TV, doing nothing, claiming she couldn’t touch water because of her newly done nails. I smiled and moved the plate of barbecue to my side. “Since Lily doesn’t like it, Aunt Rachel will eat it.” Saying that, I distributed the barbecue to the elders. They all praised: “It’s really good.” “Even better than what you get in restaurants.” Karen’s face instantly darkened, and she kept quiet, eating her food. Not long after, Lily insisted on taking my brother’s phone to play games. My brother angrily scolded: “I told you not to play with my phone, why don’t you ever listen!” Karen pounded on my brother’s chest, yelling: “You play on your phone all day, who knows what kind of floozy you’re hooking up with!” “Karen, you’re asking for a beating…” “Come on then, hit me. If you have the guts, hit me to death.” My brother was about to hit her, and seeing the situation was getting out of hand, everyone rushed to mediate. As the two of them argued, hurling insults back and forth, Lily had disappeared. Maybe the little girl was hiding somewhere to play. Anyway, my makeup and phone were all locked up, she wouldn’t be able to find them. The two eventually backed down under the persuasion of the relatives to “talk it out,” and finally quieted down. In the afternoon, after the guests left, I wanted to go back to my room for a nap. When I opened the door, I felt like I was about to explode with anger!

Lily was holding scissors in her hand, and next to her was my new dress, which had been cut beyond recognition. It was originally hanging in the closet, and I was planning to wear it to a friend’s gathering tomorrow. Now it had been cut into a sieve by this little devil. I was so angry I could have ground my teeth to dust. This dress cost me nearly three hundred dollars, and now she had cut it into rags. I clenched my fists, my body shaking with anger. Just as I was about to burst out in a rage, I met Lily’s pair of innocent, bright eyes. She looked up and called me for the first time since coming in: “Aunt Rachel, I wanted to make clothes for my doll. You won’t be mad at me, will you?” As she spoke, she held up the doll she had clumsily stitched together. The fabric of my poor dress had suffered such a cruel fate. I wasn’t resigned, really not resigned. This child, though young, was very manipulative. If I shouted now that she had cut up my dress, not only would I not get compensation and an apology from my brother and sister-in-law, but my parents would also side with her. Seeing that I didn’t speak, Lily tugged at my pant leg, tears welling up in her eyes: “Aunt Rachel, are you angry?” “It’s just a dress, I’ll pay you back when I grow up.” “Aunt Rachel, Mom says you earn a lot of money at work. You wouldn’t make things difficult for a little kid like me, would you?” I smiled. This child was quite good at emotional blackmail. What kind of thoughts had her mother been instilling in her? Since family education couldn’t teach her, let society do it then. Sooner or later, she would pay the price she deserved. I shook my head, picked her up and put her on the bed, took the crooked doll she had sewn, and only praised: “Lily is so clever, this doll is very beautiful, a thousand times better than me.” Saying this, I took out a bill from my pocket. “Lily, your doll is so beautiful, Aunt Rachel wants to reward you with some pocket money.” “Thank you, Aunt Rachel!” Lily snatched the money and ran to the living room, abandoning the doll. “Mom, look!” Lily proudly handed the bill to Karen. Karen was delighted when she saw it. She stroked Lily’s head: “It’s all because Lily is so likable that your Aunt Rachel gave you so much pocket money.” I stood in place, smiling imperceptibly, clutching the doll tightly in my hand.

Two days later, Karen came home crying, followed by my dejected brother and a bewildered Lily. “Karen, what’s wrong? Didn’t you go out shopping?” my mom asked. “Mom, we can’t go on living like this,” Karen sobbed, barely able to catch her breath. “Lily cut up more than a dozen dresses at the mall, and they’re asking us to pay $30,000 in compensation.” As she spoke, she took out a sales receipt from her bag. The price of each dress was over a thousand dollars. I was so shocked I covered my mouth, though actually, my smile was reaching the sky. Serves them right. Let them face the consequences of not disciplining their daughter properly. My mom nearly fainted, at a loss for what to do. She grabbed my hand: “Rachel, what should we do now?” “Sigh,” I said helplessly, “It’s reasonable for the mall to ask for compensation when their clothes are damaged.” “How could you let the child cut up the clothes in the mall?” I frowned, adding a bit of fuel to the fire. My brother was already furious about this incident, and Karen was crying loudly beside him. Unable to contain his temper, he smashed a teacup: “All you know is how to cry! You didn’t watch the child properly, just chatting with others. Now look what’s happened, they want you to pay $30,000!” Karen, unwilling to back down, also smashed a teacup: “You have the nerve to blame me? As soon as we entered the mall, you disappeared. I called you ten times when the incident happened, and you were always on the phone. What exactly were you doing? You know very well!” “I was contacting clients for business. How else do you think we make money to support the family!” “Stop using work as an excuse to fool me. You were just hooking up with that floozy. Don’t think I don’t know.” The two were about to get physical again. I had to pull my mom away to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Lily, completely unaware that she had done anything wrong, grabbed some cookies from my room and started eating. In the end, I had to step in to resolve this war. Karen had been slapped, her hairstyle was a mess, and her newly done nails were all ruined. My brother was more severely injured, his face covered in bruises, with a black eye and a bleeding nose. I took the sales receipt and said, “Why don’t we ask the police to mediate?” My brother held his head in his hands, his face full of worry: “This is the price they gave after negotiation. The mediation document is right here.” According to my brother, when Lily was caught in the act by the mall staff, Karen immediately threw a tantrum, pulling out several strands of the saleswoman’s hair. After the mall manager called the police, Karen initially refused to admit it was Lily who did it. The police checked the surveillance footage, and the evidence was conclusive. The mall manager took a firm stance, demanding compensation at the original price. I asked Lily, “Why did you cut up their dresses?” Lily raised her little face defiantly and said, “The girls in my class said I have a talent for design. The dresses in the mall were too ugly, so I wanted to improve them.”

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In my past life, my sister insisted on going to the Peak District for an outdoor painting trip. Despite my concerns for her safety, I couldn’t change her mind, so I had no choice but to accompany her. Unexpectedly, we encountered two villagers who tried to force us back to their village. I fought to hold them off, allowing my sister to escape while I was knocked unconscious and taken away. I thought my sister, having managed to escape, would go to the police or tell our parents to come rescue me. But she didn’t. She was afraid of letting our parents know that my misfortune was because of her. So, while I endured humiliation in the depths of the forest, she continued to enjoy her once beautiful life, even receiving more love from our parents because of my disappearance. Years later, when I finally escaped and returned home, I found that my place had long since vanished. A life of illness caused me to die early in my childhood home. But then, I found myself reliving that day when she was about to set off on her painting trip.

“Artists cannot do without inspiration! Sitting at home will never lead to great works! You and Mum and Dad, with your business-minded ways, will never understand!” My sister, Lily Summers, clutched her easel in one hand and her train ticket in the other, defiantly shouting at me. “I’m not trying to stop you from going on your trip, I just think you shouldn’t go to such a remote place.” As I approached her, my previously resigned and indulgent expression suddenly darkened. Lily didn’t notice; she was still throwing a childish tantrum at me. “I’ve finally discovered a place no one has ever been to, and you want to stop me! You can’t stand the thought of me being better than you or becoming famous!” My heart trembled as I took in the scene before me: the youthful and shorter Lily, my own agile legs, and our somewhat old-fashioned home, all conveying one truth. I had returned to the very day my sister wanted to go on her outdoor trip! In my previous life, she had acted just as foolishly, insisting on visiting that desolate area. My pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and in the interest of her safety, I had to force her to agree to let me accompany her. Little did we know that we would soon encounter two locals. The greedy gazes of the two men shifted back and forth between Lily and me as they edged closer. I knew something was terribly wrong. I quickly handed my phone to Lily so she could call the police, while I relied on my limited martial arts skills to fend off the two men. But I was no match for the sturdy farmers, and in her panic, Lily couldn’t even make the call. I found myself pinned to the ground, desperately urging her to run. In that moment, Lily reacted quickly, clutching her easel, bag, and my phone before vanishing without a trace. At that time, I believed she had escaped, and we would both be safe. I fought desperately to stop the two men from pursuing her, only to be beaten unconscious. When I awoke, I found myself trapped in a dark, damp cellar. I couldn’t see anything, only hearing the scurrying of mice, the buzzing of insects, and the chilling laughter of men. I lost track of time in the cellar, but gradually, through the beatings, I learned to disguise and submit. Eventually, I discovered from those men that I had been imprisoned for four years. Four long years, with no one searching for me. I couldn’t understand why. Eventually, due to my extreme submission and my pregnancy, I was allowed to emerge from the cellar. Seven years later, seeing the sun again brought tears to my eyes, and I broke down sobbing. For I saw in the mirror a version of myself I had never known. My filthy, long hair, a swollen body barely covered in rags, emitting the same stench as those men while heavily pregnant. In the following days, under the strict watch of the villagers, I gave birth to child after child. Then, in a daily cycle of resignation, I finally found my chance to escape. I dropped my hoe, ignoring the sounds of my babbling children behind me, and sprinted through the fields taller than I was. Sharp stones cut into my feet, but I didn’t stop; thorny plants pierced my skin, yet I pressed on without slowing. At that moment, I selfishly thought I should have made this mad dash for freedom years ago. After successfully escaping, I encountered kind people in the town who provided food and drink and took me to the police, who then brought me to my parents’ new address. It was a grand detached house with a garden in a thriving city. The house was bright and sunny, with two housekeepers tending to their duties. My sister was barefoot on the lawn, arranging her paintings and occasionally flashing a cute smile at her wealthy boyfriend. But in an instant, that smile turned to panic when she saw me. She clearly hadn’t expected my return. Nor had our parents. After embracing me and weeping, they finally realized I was no longer the daughter they had once been proud of. By then, I was nearing middle age, had given birth to seven or eight children, and bore the weight of illness that made me appear older than my parents. Meanwhile, they had risen from the middle class to the upper class, and even Lily, who had little talent, had opened a small gallery and had a caring wealthy boyfriend. Everyone around me seemed to have a bright future and dignity—except for me. I pointed at Lily and revealed the truth to everyone, telling them how I had ended up in this situation, but years of harsh captivity had left me stammering and incoherent. No one believed me, or perhaps no one wanted to help. My parents continued to believe Lily’s story: that I had gone off travelling without being cautious and had been kidnapped. They thought I was now mentally unstable, which was why I was accusing her. A few days later, they decided to send me back to my childhood home. During holidays, they would only see me briefly, and I could only receive treatment for my illnesses at poorly equipped small hospitals. In the end, my parents tragically died in a car accident. I had no money for medical care. As my health deteriorated, Lily finally appeared before me. Lily, carrying the latest luxury handbag, had brought along the very family that had abducted me and the seven children I had given birth to. She urged me to go along with their ways, to love and be loved by them. Finally, she gleefully confessed, “Mum and Dad are proud of your business talent. They’ve only built their fortune using the resources you left behind. If they knew I was the reason you were captured, they would hate me forever. So, when I escaped, I knew I had to keep them from knowing the truth.” “But I never imagined you would be so clever as to return and expose my lies. Even though no one believes you, just thinking of my fiancé knowing I have a filthy sister like you makes me sick. According to the law, if Mum and Dad unexpectedly die, a portion of the inheritance would go to you! How dare you pollute my life so casually!” As she spoke, she forced my weak hand to sign a waiver of inheritance rights before driving away in her flashy car. I collapsed to the ground, wracked by pain and hatred, crying until my tears ran dry. Little did I expect that when I opened my eyes, I found myself back on the day Lily had insisted on going for her outdoor painting trip.

“I don’t care, I don’t care! I’m going! I have a feeling I’ll find a lot of artistic and life opportunities there!” Lily was still begging me. I snapped back to reality and asked with a semblance of a smile, “Really? Are you so sure?” Lily nodded, pulling out her phone to show me a strong male photographer’s profile, who had taken a stunning set of photos in the Peak District a few years back. He claimed the locals were very friendly, living a simple life far from modern society. Simple? I couldn’t help but snicker internally; it was likely just a façade of “simplicity” for strong men. Lily persisted, urging me to agree. “Just let me go! I have a feeling if I don’t go, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life!” I frowned at her words. “But I really can’t trust you to go alone.” Lily’s eyes sparkled with delight as she realized she had a chance. “You’re just worried you want to come with me…” I interrupted her, “Mum and Dad’s company has something going on today; I can’t go with you, but I can call a few of your friends from college. You’re all studying art; it would be safer for you to go together.” Over the years, I had seen through Lily’s jealousy; it was easy to push her toward despair. Sure enough, Lily’s expression changed, her voice rising, “I don’t want to! I didn’t go out with them during the last training, and their grades are better than mine; they must have laughed at me! I’ve finally found a place they haven’t been to; if I take them, I won’t stand a chance next time!” At that point, Lily’s determination was unwavering: “If you won’t go with me, I’ll go alone! The photographer said the locals are friendly, and if anything happens, I can ask for help. Just don’t tell my friends where I’m going! I won’t forgive you if you do!” With that, Lily ran out the door with her easel, pretending to be afraid I would stop her. I stared at the closed door, feeling defeated, and slumped to the floor, taking some time to collect myself.

I didn’t linger at home; instead, I put on my coat and took a taxi to my parents’ small business, which was still in its early stages. My father, not yet old and never one to show disappointment in me, smiled widely upon seeing me and invited me to sit in his office chair. “Just in time! Help me strategise; is this project worth pursuing?” My hands tightened, my fingertips digging into my skin. Sometimes, I had to admit a harsh truth: they didn’t love me as much as they loved Lily and her friends. Their affection stemmed from my talent for business and the connections I brought to the family company. If they truly loved me, I would at least have the freedom to have my own interests, like Lily, even without talent or excellent grades. “Penny for your thoughts?” Dad nudged me. “Have a look at this.” I glanced down at the tender document in my hands, nodding after a quick scan. “This is a blue-ocean project; I discussed it with a few of my university friends, and they say it has great potential. You mustn’t miss this one, Dad!” In my previous life, he had missed this opportunity, and years later, I returned to find him lamenting the loss. Mum, reviewing the accounts, looked up at me with satisfaction, and I smiled back. I had no intention of letting Lily get away with things, nor did I want them to be happy. I needed this company to pave the way for my future. Dad rushed out to instruct the team to get started, and I followed, giving them some useful direction. When I returned to my office, Mum came over with a smile and peeled a lychee for me. Just as she offered it to me, she suddenly asked, “Where’s Lily? Is she still lazing around painting at home?” I shrugged. “I took a nap, and when I woke up, I was the only one at home. I don’t know where she went.” Mum didn’t doubt my words, but her worry prompted her to reach for her phone to call Lily. However, Lily quickly hung up, refusing to answer. Perhaps she was afraid I would tell our parents, who were trying to bring her home. After a few more failed attempts to contact her, Mum sighed and sent a concerned text before shaking her head, saying, “I was going to ask her to come home early for dinner. Let her be; she probably won’t achieve anything, and it’ll be another outdoor painting trip to the mountains where she’ll just get eaten by mosquitoes.” I nodded in agreement with her assessment. Mum continued, “Later, I’m off to a spa with some friends, and your dad has a social engagement. Can you manage to eat something?” I didn’t care about the double standards; I just smiled at her. “Sounds good, Mum.”

Here’s the translation and localization of the provided passages into a natural and interesting British context: In my past life, my sister insisted on going to the Peak District for an outdoor painting trip. Despite my concerns for her safety, I couldn’t change her mind, so I had no choice but to accompany her. Unexpectedly, we encountered two villagers who tried to force us back to their village. I fought to hold them off, allowing my sister to escape while I was knocked unconscious and taken away. I thought my sister, having managed to escape, would go to the police or tell our parents to come rescue me. But she didn’t. She was afraid of letting our parents know that my misfortune was because of her. So, while I endured humiliation in the depths of the forest, she continued to enjoy her once beautiful life, even receiving more love from our parents because of my disappearance. Years later, when I finally escaped and returned home, I found that my place had long since vanished. A life of illness caused me to die early in my childhood home. But then, I found myself reliving that day when she was about to set off on her painting trip. “Artists cannot do without inspiration! Sitting at home will never lead to great works! You and Mum and Dad, with your business-minded ways, will never understand!” My sister, Lily Summers, clutched her easel in one hand and her train ticket in the other, defiantly shouting at me. “I’m not trying to stop you from going on your trip, I just think you shouldn’t go to such a remote place.” As I approached her, my previously resigned and indulgent expression suddenly darkened. Lily didn’t notice; she was still throwing a childish tantrum at me. “I’ve finally discovered a place no one has ever been to, and you want to stop me! You can’t stand the thought of me being better than you or becoming famous!” My heart trembled as I took in the scene before me: the youthful and shorter Lily, my own agile legs, and our somewhat old-fashioned home, all conveying one truth. I had returned to the very day my sister wanted to go on her outdoor trip! In my previous life, she had acted just as foolishly, insisting on visiting that desolate area. My pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and in the interest of her safety, I had to force her to agree to let me accompany her. Little did we know that we would soon encounter two locals. The greedy gazes of the two men shifted back and forth between Lily and me as they edged closer. I knew something was terribly wrong. I quickly handed my phone to Lily so she could call the police, while I relied on my limited martial arts skills to fend off the two men. But I was no match for the sturdy farmers, and in her panic, Lily couldn’t even make the call. I found myself pinned to the ground, desperately urging her to run. In that moment, Lily reacted quickly, clutching her easel, bag, and my phone before vanishing without a trace. At that time, I believed she had escaped, and we would both be safe. I fought desperately to stop the two men from pursuing her, only to be beaten unconscious. When I awoke, I found myself trapped in a dark, damp cellar. I couldn’t see anything, only hearing the scurrying of mice, the buzzing of insects, and the chilling laughter of men. I lost track of time in the cellar, but gradually, through the beatings, I learned to disguise and submit. Eventually, I discovered from those men that I had been imprisoned for four years. Four long years, with no one searching for me. I couldn’t understand why. Eventually, due to my extreme submission and my pregnancy, I was allowed to emerge from the cellar. Seven years later, seeing the sun again brought tears to my eyes, and I broke down sobbing. For I saw in the mirror a version of myself I had never known. My filthy, long hair, a swollen body barely covered in rags, emitting the same stench as those men while heavily pregnant. In the following days, under the strict watch of the villagers, I gave birth to child after child. Then, in a daily cycle of resignation, I finally found my chance to escape. I dropped my hoe, ignoring the sounds of my babbling children behind me, and sprinted through the fields taller than I was. Sharp stones cut into my feet, but I didn’t stop; thorny plants pierced my skin, yet I pressed on without slowing. At that moment, I selfishly thought I should have made this mad dash for freedom years ago. After successfully escaping, I encountered kind people in the town who provided food and drink and took me to the police, who then brought me to my parents’ new address. It was a grand detached house with a garden in a thriving city. The house was bright and sunny, with two housekeepers tending to their duties. My sister was barefoot on the lawn, arranging her paintings and occasionally flashing a cute smile at her wealthy boyfriend. But in an instant, that smile turned to panic when she saw me. She clearly hadn’t expected my return. Nor had our parents. After embracing me and weeping, they finally realized I was no longer the daughter they had once been proud of. By then, I was nearing middle age, had given birth to seven or eight children, and bore the weight of illness that made me appear older than my parents. Meanwhile, they had risen from the middle class to the upper class, and even Lily, who had little talent, had opened a small gallery and had a caring wealthy boyfriend. Everyone around me seemed to have a bright future and dignity—except for me. I pointed at Lily and revealed the truth to everyone, telling them how I had ended up in this situation, but years of harsh captivity had left me stammering and incoherent. No one believed me, or perhaps no one wanted to help. My parents continued to believe Lily’s story: that I had gone off travelling without being cautious and had been kidnapped. They thought I was now mentally unstable, which was why I was accusing her. A few days later, they decided to send me back to my childhood home. During holidays, they would only see me briefly, and I could only receive treatment for my illnesses at poorly equipped small hospitals. In the end, my parents tragically died in a car accident. I had no money for medical care. As my health deteriorated, Lily finally appeared before me. Lily, carrying the latest luxury handbag, had brought along the very family that had abducted me and the seven children I had given birth to. She urged me to go along with their ways, to love and be loved by them. Finally, she gleefully confessed, “Mum and Dad are proud of your business talent. They’ve only built their fortune using the resources you left behind. If they knew I was the reason you were captured, they would hate me forever. So, when I escaped, I knew I had to keep them from knowing the truth.” “But I never imagined you would be so clever as to return and expose my lies. Even though no one believes you, just thinking of my fiancé knowing I have a filthy sister like you makes me sick. According to the law, if Mum and Dad unexpectedly die, a portion of the inheritance would go to you! How dare you pollute my life so casually!” As she spoke, she forced my weak hand to sign a waiver of inheritance rights before driving away in her flashy car. I collapsed to the ground, wracked by pain and hatred, crying until my tears ran dry. Little did I expect that when I opened my eyes, I found myself back on the day Lily had insisted on going for her outdoor painting trip. “I don’t care, I don’t care! I’m going! I have a feeling I’ll find a lot of artistic and life opportunities there!” Lily was still begging me. I snapped back to reality and asked with a semblance of a smile, “Really? Are you so sure?” Lily nodded, pulling out her phone to show me a strong male photographer’s profile, who had taken a stunning set of photos in the Peak District a few years back. He claimed the locals were very friendly, living a simple life far from modern society. Simple? I couldn’t help but snicker internally; it was likely just a façade of “simplicity” for strong men. Lily persisted, urging me to agree. “Just let me go! I have a feeling if I don’t go, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life!” I frowned at her words. “But I really can’t trust you to go alone.” Lily’s eyes sparkled with delight as she realized she had a chance. “You’re just worried you want to come with me…” I interrupted her, “Mum and Dad’s company has something going on today; I can’t go with you, but I can call a few of your friends from college. You’re all studying art; it would be safer for you to go together.” Over the years, I had seen through Lily’s jealousy; it was easy to push her toward despair. Sure enough, Lily’s expression changed, her voice rising, “I don’t want to! I didn’t go out with them during the last training, and their grades are better than mine; they must have laughed at me! I’ve finally found a place they haven’t been to; if I take them, I won’t stand a chance next time!” At that point, Lily’s determination was unwavering: “If you won’t go with me, I’ll go alone! The photographer said the locals are friendly, and if anything happens, I can ask for help. Just don’t tell my friends where I’m going! I won’t forgive you if you do!” With that, Lily ran out the door with her easel, pretending to be afraid I would stop her. I stared at the closed door, feeling defeated, and slumped to the floor, taking some time to collect myself. I didn’t linger at home; instead, I put on my coat and took a taxi to my parents’ small business, which was still in its early stages. My father, not yet old and never one to show disappointment in me, smiled widely upon seeing me and invited me to sit in his office chair. “Just in time! Help me strategise; is this project worth pursuing?” My hands tightened, my fingertips digging into my skin. Sometimes, I had to admit a harsh truth: they didn’t love me as much as they loved Lily and her friends. Their affection stemmed from my talent for business and the connections I brought to the family company. If they truly loved me, I would at least have the freedom to have my own interests, like Lily, even without talent or excellent grades. “Penny for your thoughts?” Dad nudged me. “Have a look at this.” I glanced down at the tender document in my hands, nodding after a quick scan. “This is a blue-ocean project; I discussed it with a few of my university friends, and they say it has great potential. You mustn’t miss this one, Dad!” In my previous life, he had missed this opportunity, and years later, I returned to find him lamenting the loss. Mum, reviewing the accounts, looked up at me with satisfaction, and I smiled back. I had no intention of letting Lily get away with things, nor did I want them to be happy. I needed this company to pave the way for my future. Dad rushed out to instruct the team to get started, and I followed, giving them some useful direction. When I returned to my office, Mum came over with a smile and peeled a lychee for me. Just as she offered it to me, she suddenly asked, “Where’s Lily? Is she still lazing around painting at home?” I shrugged. “I took a nap, and when I woke up, I was the only one at home. I don’t know where she went.” Mum didn’t doubt my words, but her worry prompted her to reach for her phone to call Lily. However, Lily quickly hung up, refusing to answer. Perhaps she was afraid I would tell our parents, who were trying to bring her home. After a few more failed attempts to contact her, Mum sighed and sent a concerned text before shaking her head, saying, “I was going to ask her to come home early for dinner. Let her be; she probably won’t achieve anything, and it’ll be another outdoor painting trip to the mountains where she’ll just get eaten by mosquitoes.” I nodded in agreement with her assessment. Mum continued, “Later, I’m off to a spa with some friends, and your dad has a social engagement. Can you manage to eat something?” I didn’t care about the double standards; I just smiled at her. “Sounds good, Mum.” That night, I sat alone at home, unboxing a beautifully crafted cake I had bought, complete with a candle on top. I clasped my hands together, and after a few seconds, I blew out the candle. I didn’t wish for anything; I was simply grateful for this second chance at life. As I cut a slice of cake, the sweet flavour danced on my tongue. Just then, I heard wedding celebrations in the neighbourhood, and the sound of firecrackers seemed to cheer my new beginning. Having finished the cake, I checked the time and finally picked up my phone to call Lily, only to hear the message that her phone was switched off. I persisted, trying a few more times, while simultaneously dressing and calling my parents who were busy with their engagements, but to no avail; no one answered. Half an hour later, dressed and anxious, I stood on the street, waiting for Lily’s return. All the neighbours in the area witnessed my efforts.

Lily’s disappearance nearly drove Mum to the edge. At first, she thought Lily was just being wilful and would return in a couple of days. But after half a month, she could no longer deceive herself. I approached Mum, gently patting her shoulder in comfort. “Mum, don’t be too upset. Dad and I have already contacted the police; if there’s news, they’ll let us know.” Although I said this, with society as it was, finding a girl who voluntarily ran off to a remote place would be no easy task. Dad chimed in, “Exactly. Don’t worry too much; Lily usually takes off with some cash for a few days. She’ll probably be back before we know it. Don’t stress out, Summer; you’ve been working hard too. Don’t let her worry about her sister and the company.” Mum pushed me away, pointing a finger at me. “Tell me the truth. Did you two have a fight that day? If she hadn’t argued with you, why would she disappear for so long?” Disappointment washed over me. “Mum, how could you think that? If my sister and I had fought and she had run off in a panic, I would have told you! I love her just as much as you do!” Mum ignored my protests, her hands trembling as she did her nails. “If you loved her, you wouldn’t have let her disappear! Useless. You two don’t care about Lily! She’s only just in her third year at uni and hasn’t experienced the harshness of the world. What if a bad man tricks her?” I stood frozen, remembering how in my previous life, Lily mimicked my mother’s attitude when I had gone missing. Back then, Mum had said, “Summer’s too clever for anything to happen. Maybe she’s off with a boyfriend; your dad’s just worrying for nothing.” “To be honest, aren’t you more concerned about the company’s operations? Lily, don’t follow your dad’s worried face; you’ve both lost weight.” Heh. In the dead of night, I got up to get some water and noticed the study door was still ajar. I stood at a distance, quietly listening to their conversation. “Darling, I have to be honest with you. They’re both different to me. When I had Summer, I was forced by your mum, while with Lily, we were doing well, and I wanted to raise her like a delicate flower.”

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After my husband passed away, Mrs. Cole brought home a boy whose features eerily resembled David’s. She claimed it was David reincarnated, sent to make up for the loss. So, I gave everything I had to raise him, grooming him to become the heir of Cole Corporation. But the moment he took control of the company, the first thing he did was cruelly torture me to death. In my final moments, my supposedly dead husband, Erick Cole, appeared alongside his prized student, Mia Summers: “Thank you for raising our son and amassing billions for him. After you die, I’ll make sure our son sees you off!” I was so enraged I spat blood and died! But when I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Erick faked his death. “Mrs. Cole, Professor Cole was in a car accident… it’s hopeless. You need to come to the hospital immediately… Maybe… you’ll still have time to see him one last time… sob… sob…” Mia Summers’ voice was full of sorrow and desperation, followed by sobbing. Hearing her voice again triggered memories of my previous life, and in an instant, I felt an eerie calm. But I still feigned disbelief and choked out: “Erick, wait for me… I’ll be there soon!” Then, I deliberately made Mia uncomfortable: “Mia, tell the hospital to use the best medicine, whatever it takes to save him. Money is never an issue for Cole Corporation!” Mia Summers, always calm and composed, always looked down on me, the businesswoman soaked in greed, didn’t she? Well, this time, I’d show her the true power of money! In my previous life, Erick wasn’t in any car accident. Mia had lied, saying he was on the brink of death to lure me to the hospital. In my grief, I had a real car accident on the way. By the time I came out of surgery, the only thing waiting for me was Erick’s ashes. But in this life, I’ll make sure his fake death becomes real. The car accident they’d planned for me won’t go to waste — I’ll gift it to my wicked mother-in-law, Mrs. Cole. I quickly called my assistant, Aaron Turner, and told him to drive Mrs. Cole to the hospital in my signature car. Meanwhile, I went upstairs, opened the secret vault in the study, and retrieved something important. Then, I called for the four bodyguards my father had left for me, got into my bulletproof SUV, and quietly headed for the hospital.

Outside St. Mary’s Medical Center. Aaron’s anxious and apologetic voice came through the phone: “Mrs. Cole, I’m sorry, the car was in an accident on West Broadway!” “Aaron, are you hurt?” Even though I knew Erick’s plan was meant for me, and that the driver would be fine, I still asked out of concern. “I’m fine, Mrs. Cole, but Mrs. Cole has a fractured leg!” Ha! The same injury I had in my past life! It seemed Erick and Mia were terrified of me arriving at the hospital too quickly. But I wasn’t about to let things go according to their plan. I calmly ordered Aaron: “Call the police to investigate and gather evidence, then call an ambulance and take Mrs. Cole to the hospital.” After all, the old woman wasn’t going to die any time soon! After that, I informed Robert Knight, the chief lawyer for Cole Corporation: “Handle the car accident on West Broadway. Detain the driver, refuse any civil compensation, and file charges for attempted murder.” “Yes, Mrs. Cole.” With everything arranged, I swallowed my rage, stepped out of the car, and rushed to Erick’s room, crying and stumbling the entire way, putting on the perfect performance of a heartbroken wife. The bodyguards behind me exchanged confused glances.

Inside the hospital room. Erick was already covered with a white sheet. My sudden appearance drained the color from Mia Summers’ face. “Mrs… Mrs. Cole, why… how did you get here?” I ignored Mia and everyone else in the room. Covering my mouth, I collapsed onto the floor, but the quiet sobs I forced out soon turned into uncontrollable wailing. “Mrs. Cole, Professor Cole is gone… please, accept my condolences.” Mia, her face filled with fake sorrow, hesitantly tried to help me up. I subtly avoided her touch and threw myself onto Erick’s body, lovingly stroking his head again and again, my voice cracking with tears: “Erick, how could you be so heartless and leave me like this? Erick… wake up… wake up…” The moment I flung myself onto Erick, I swiftly used the golden needle I had hidden in my sleeve to pierce three key acupuncture points on his head. Cole Corporation was built on traditional medicine, but no one knew that I was the sole heir to my grandfather’s golden acupuncture technique. In my previous life, Erick had injected himself with a fake death drug that he and Mia secretly developed, fooling the doctors. They staged the car accident and tricked me into believing it, allowing Erick to fake his death! Erick and Mia lived abroad for 20 years. By the time I had raised their illegitimate son to take over Cole Corporation, I realized on my deathbed just how badly I had been deceived. But their fake death drug wasn’t stable. If the antidote wasn’t administered within two hours, Erick would actually die. Now, I sealed three key acupuncture points on Erick’s head, ensuring that his fake death time was shortened by at least thirty minutes—without leaving a trace. After finishing, I wasted no time. I distanced myself from the “corpse.” With a low, raspy voice, I turned to Mike Thompson, one of my bodyguards, and said: “Go get Mrs. Cole. She needs to see her son one last time.” “Mrs. Cole, but her leg…” “It doesn’t matter. This is more important.” Mia Summers’ eyes flickered with panic as she quickly interjected, her words dripping with concern: “Mrs. Cole, please, don’t tell her just yet! She just had a car accident, and her heart isn’t in good condition… If she finds out about Professor Cole’s death, it might be too much for her.” Oh? So Mia already knew about Mrs. Cole’s car accident! Seems like the old woman didn’t deserve any sympathy for what she’s been through. Seeing Mia’s nervousness, I smirked inwardly as her desperation became obvious. “Professor Cole was her only son. We don’t have the right to take away her chance to say goodbye.” I waved my hand weakly, pretending I was too heartbroken to argue further. Seeing this, Mike immediately left the room. “Mrs. Cole, how can you be so reckless? The dead are gone, but what if something happens to Mrs. Cole? Professor Cole would never forgive you from the afterlife!” “From the afterlife? Yes, Erick, if you’ve become a ghost, make sure you come haunt me… Wouldn’t that mean you couldn’t bear to leave me, Erick?” I lowered my head, my body trembling as I gave a heart-wrenching performance of undying love between the living and the dead. It was enough to leave Mia flustered. If Mia Summers could maintain her composed “calm as a breeze” persona in front of a supposedly dead Erick, then I could play the devoted, virtuous wife who’d die for her husband. This time, I was ready for the long game. I, Sophia Cole, wouldn’t stop until I destroyed everything they loved—until they were separated, and their family was in ruins!

“M-Mrs. Cole, we should start preparing for Professor Cole’s funeral and send him to the morgue.” Mia Summers was growing frantic! Looks like they had accomplices waiting for them in the morgue. No rush though. I’ve been given a second chance, and none of these evil people are going to escape me this time! “Mrs. Cole will be here soon!” The real show could only begin once all the players were present. “Erick… my son… wake up and see your mother. She’s here to see you!” And there she was—the main act! I turned to face Mrs. Cole. She was crying with gut-wrenching anguish, yet there wasn’t a single tear in her eyes. In my previous life, I must have been blind and foolish to believe that a mother who had just lost her only son could move on so quickly. I had convinced myself that it was Jacob, who looked so much like Erick, that helped her recover. That’s how I ended up treating that ungrateful snake like my own son! “Mom, Erick… he’s really gone!” As soon as I said those words, Mrs. Cole’s body visibly stiffened. Shock flashed across her eyes, and she shot a secretive glance at Mia. Mia, thinking she was being discreet, gave a tiny shake of her head. Mrs. Cole relaxed and resumed her loud wailing. Meanwhile, I casually removed the golden needle from Erick’s head. As soon as I did, Mrs. Cole’s face contorted with pain as she clutched her chest. “Ah… ah, my heart… it hurts so much…” “Mom! Mom, what’s happening? Don’t scare me!” I didn’t move a muscle, though I pretended to be worried. “She’s having a heart attack! Move out of the way!” Seeing that Mrs. Cole was genuinely in pain, Mia panicked. She pushed me aside, but I wasn’t bothered. I immediately called Dr. Richard Carter, Mrs. Cole’s heart specialist, and put him on speakerphone. “Dr. Carter, my mother-in-law is having a severe heart attack!” “Mrs. Cole, as I’ve told you before, your mother-in-law can’t delay her heart transplant surgery any longer, but we haven’t found a suitable donor yet.” Dr. Carter’s voice was filled with regret. “What if my husband’s heart is a match?” “What?” Dr. Carter sounded shocked. I continued, my voice breaking as tears welled up. “Dr. Carter… my husband… he was just in a car accident… He’s gone…” Over the phone, Dr. Carter’s tone shifted from sorrow to a faint glimmer of hope. “My deepest condolences, Mrs. Cole… The chances of a match between mother and son are quite high. I’ll bring my team over right away!” “No!” “I won’t allow it!” Both Mia and Mrs. Cole, who had just caught her breath, shouted in unison. Mrs. Cole’s voice was weak, but she still managed to point a trembling finger at me and scolded, “Sophia, my son just died, and you’re already thinking about taking his heart? How can you be so cruel?” Mia quickly chimed in. “Yes, Mrs. Cole, Erick hated pain! How could you be so heartless? We should cremate him right away and let him rest in peace!” I looked at them, my face a picture of sorrow, and said, “Mom, I don’t want this either. But we can’t bring Erick back. If he knew that his heart could keep you alive, I’m sure he’d agree.” “And if possible… Mom, I also want to donate Erick’s other organs to those in need. That way, Erick can live on through others.” “No…” Mrs. Cole was so enraged by my shocking suggestion that she fainted on the spot. The room fell silent. Just as quickly, Mia lost her composure and started screaming. “Help! Someone, help!” At that moment, Dr. Carter arrived with his medical team. Clutching at my last thread of hope, I turned to him, tears streaming down my face. “Dr. Carter, please! Save my mother-in-law. My husband… he’s already gone. Mrs. Cole is my only family now. I can’t lose her too!” “Mrs. Cole, don’t worry. I’ll do everything in my power.” “If the transplant is successful, your mother-in-law could live another twenty or thirty years.” That’s right. In my previous life, I found a suitable heart donor for her. She lived long after I was gone, thanks to that transplant. Remembering the cruelty Mrs. Cole, Erick, and Mia showed me in the past, my eyes filled with tears of rage. “Dr. Carter, please… my husband and mother-in-law are in your hands.” “I’ll have my lawyer and the hospital staff handle the donation paperwork immediately.” “Understood.” Dr. Carter swiftly divided his team into two groups. One group rushed Mrs. Cole into the operating room, while the other prepared to transport Erick’s “body.” As Erick’s wife, I had agreed to donate his organs. Regardless of whether his heart was a match for Mrs. Cole, it needed to be removed and preserved quickly. By this point, Mia was visibly panicking. She clung to Erick’s hospital bed, refusing to let go. “No! You can’t take Professor Cole’s heart!” “Stay away from him! No one’s taking him!” She kicked at the medical staff, wailing as though it was her husband who had just died. I had finally had enough. I slapped her across the face, hard. “How dare you! Mia Summers, this is my family matter, not yours to decide!” With a loud smack, her face turned to the side, red from the blow. I glared at her, my face cold, and ordered the bodyguards, “Take her away!” Mike Thompson followed my instructions, easily pulling Mia away from the bed. As I watched Erick’s “body” being wheeled away, Mia stood there, dumbfounded. Everything had spun completely out of her control. I quickly composed myself, my face turning emotionless as I stared at Mia. Let’s see just how much Mia Summers truly loves Erick. Sure enough, Mia squeezed her eyes shut and screamed, “Professor Cole isn’t dead! He’s not dead!” Ah… finally, the fake death charade couldn’t continue any longer.

After Mia’s repeated interference, even Dr. Carter grew impatient with her. Coldly, he asked, “Who is she?” “She’s just one of my husband’s students! Don’t listen to her nonsense, Dr. Carter.” I stepped in, placing myself between Dr. Carter and Mia. “No! I can prove it! I can prove Professor Cole isn’t dead!” Mia was completely hysterical at this point, her voice rising with desperation. With just a glance from me, Mia slipped free from Mike’s hold and frantically rummaged through her bag. From inside, she pulled out a small medical cooler. Shaking, she rushed over to Erick’s bed, holding up a syringe. I slapped her again, this time with more force. “Stop it!” “Mia Summers, you’re a doctor. How could you believe injecting someone after death would bring them back to life?” “Mrs. Cole, I swear, I can save Professor Cole! You have to believe me! He’s not really dead, he’s just in a fake death state…” “Mia, enough! I know you and my husband were close, but the dead are dead. There’s no such thing as fake death!” “It’s true! Mrs. Cole, there’s still time! If I inject this now, Professor Cole will wake up!” Mia’s crying had turned ugly. Looking at her tear-streaked face, a wave of disgust washed over me. I finally realized that Erick had been blind. Dr. Carter, maintaining his professionalism, walked over to Erick’s bed and checked his vitals once more. After a moment, he shook his head in regret. Meanwhile, the attending physician glanced at his watch and solemnly declared: “As of now, Professor Cole has been deceased for 1 hour, 18 minutes, and 26 seconds. There is no way he can be revived.” His statement immediately turned the room against Mia. Everyone’s gazes were filled with disdain. “Mrs. Cole is Erick’s wife. Do you think she wouldn’t want her husband to live?” “Who does this Mia Summers think she is? She’s acting more like a mistress than a student!” … “Mike, get this lunatic out of here. Don’t let her interfere with Dr. Carter’s work!” It hadn’t even been an hour and a half since Erick’s supposed death. I wasn’t about to give Mia the chance to actually save him. Now that I had been reborn, I was going to make sure Erick truly died this time. Mia was dragged out of the room, her desperate cries falling on deaf ears. Everyone thought she was a mistress who had lost her protector and had gone mad! But as I glanced at the syringe now in Dr. Carter’s hands, I couldn’t help but ask with a glimmer of hope in my eyes: “Dr. Carter, could this injection really bring my husband back to life? Should we try it?” Dr. Carter quickly shook his head in regret and said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cole. Erick is really gone. My condolences.” The hope in my eyes dimmed under his gaze. Still, I wasn’t ready to give up completely. “Dr. Carter, please… what if…?” “Mrs. Cole, you need to focus on the living. Your mother-in-law can’t wait any longer!” Finally, tears of despair flowed from my eyes. “There’s really no hope?” At that moment, the attending physician handed me a death certificate and said: “Mrs. Cole, please sign here.” I took the death certificate, frozen for a moment before covering my face and bursting into sobs. “Erick… how could you be so heartless…” Everyone in the room saw my deep sorrow and helplessness. They rushed to comfort me: “Mrs. Cole, please, you need to sign it. Your mother-in-law’s surgery is more important now!” “Mrs. Cole, you’ve been through so much…” “Yes! Giving up your husband’s heart for your mother-in-law… how difficult that must be!” “Bodyguards can’t provide the same comfort as having real family. Mrs. Cole, you’ve made the right decision to save her!” … After I signed the death certificate, Robert Knight, my lawyer, arrived. He took over the organ donation paperwork for Erick’s heart. I stood there, watching as Dr. Carter wheeled Erick’s “body” into the operating room.

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My foster brother suffered a brain injury, and I was the only one who could wake him up. But he died during the treatment. Afterward, my parents took me to court, screaming that I should pay for his life with mine. I calmly sat in the defendant’s seat. I had been waiting for this day for a long time. I was going to personally send them to hell. I’m the most capable brain repair specialist in the country. I’ve successfully revived coma patients, creating medical miracles, and even stood on the world’s most prestigious stages. Now, I’ve become the disgrace of the medical field, scorned by everyone online. Countless netizens are calling for me to be kicked out of the profession. And it’s all thanks to my biological parents. A month ago, my foster brother, James Miller, was in a car accident that caused a brain injury, putting him into a coma. Every doctor was at a loss. My estranged parents found me, using every method they could to force me to save him. But they never expected James to die during the treatment. In their grief, I became their target for revenge. They accused me of being a fraud, a killer. Not only did they cry out on every platform about how ungrateful, rebellious, and defiant I was, but they also took me to court, demanding I pay with my life. Today is the day of the trial. The moment I appeared, I was bombarded by microphones. “Dr. Harris, your parents claim that after you became successful, you never gave them a dime, and you even blocked their contact. Is that true?” “You’re known as the miracle doctor who can revive coma patients. Why did your foster brother die during treatment? Is there something you’re not telling us?” The questions from the reporters were getting more intense by the minute. My bodyguard and assistant, Megan King, was pale as snow. I held her cold hand, my gaze cutting through the crowd to meet the hateful eyes of my parents in the distance. I suddenly smiled. “Everything will be decided in court. I believe the wicked will go to hell!”

The trial began. I sat in the defendant’s seat, bored, listening to my parents on the plaintiff’s side lay out my supposed sins. Rebellious since childhood, always hanging out with a street gang, refusing to change. After becoming successful, I never cared for my parents and even publicly claimed to be an orphan. During the treatment of my foster brother, I abandoned the procedure before it was completed, causing his mind to become unstable, which led to his death. By the end, they were in such agony that my biological mother looked like she wanted to leap across the room and beat me. “Order! Lily Harris, do you admit to the charges brought against you by the plaintiffs?” the judge said, tapping the gavel. “What they said is true, but I don’t think I’m guilty,” I said, nodding calmly. The courtroom erupted. On every live stream, the screens were filled with angry comments. “She’s so arrogant. Just throw her in jail already!” “She made her money and thinks she’s above her parents. Heartless!” “Just sentence her now!” Amid the barrage of curses, I raised my hand and pointed to my head. “But every story has a reason. Why don’t we let the Cerebral Interface System access my memories? Let everyone see just how ‘horrible’ I really am.” “No!” Before the judge could respond, my parents jumped in, objecting to the use of my memories, saying it would be biased. “Oh? Well then, let’s use the memories of the deceased, my foster brother—James Miller, instead,” I said pleasantly, offering them a solution they couldn’t refuse. Seeing them look relieved, I smiled even more mockingly. It’s always more painful to be betrayed by the ones you care about most.

The Cerebral Interface began playing James Miller’s memories. It was winter, and seven-year-old James arrived at our house. I was six. I was sitting on a little stool, scrubbing thick sweaters by hand, my fingers red and swollen like carrots. James looked shocked and asked my parents tearfully, “Did you adopt me to make me work?” “Of course not!” My mother’s voice was the softest I had ever heard, a tone she had never used with me. “You’re a boy. You don’t have to do this kind of girly work. Just grow up well, that’s all.” My dad pulled a piece of butterscotch candy from his pocket and popped it into James’ mouth. “Your clothes and shoes, Lily can wash them. And if she doesn’t listen, just hit her like this.” He demonstrated by kicking me. I tried to twist my body to avoid it, but I still ended up falling into the wash basin. Water splashed onto my dad’s shoes, and of course, that led to another beating. James watched, eyes wide with excitement, even finding it amusing. He pressed a finger against the large lump on my head, curious. “How come you don’t cry when you get hit? Are you mute?” The sudden pain made me forget to be cautious, and I shoved his hand away. Naturally, I was punished again. “He’s your brother. It’s his first day here, and you’re already hitting him. What’s next, killing the whole family?” my dad shouted. “Will you ever dare do it again?” The result of this little episode was that I wasn’t allowed to eat dinner. That night, after everyone had gone to bed, I snuck into the bathroom, still wearing my damp clothes, and drank from the tap as if my life depended on it. I’d known from a young age that crying or complaining would only make them angrier. Talking back would get me hit harder. Because I wasn’t the child they wanted. I was just a girl. The old lady next door once told me that for girls like me, education was the only way out. When I turned six, they would have to send me to school. Otherwise, the authorities would come knocking, and they were terrified of government people showing up. “Just six more months,” I whispered to myself, hugging my arms for warmth.

The Cerebral Interface switched to when I was thirteen. I was in middle school. James came home with a basketball in his arms. When he saw I hadn’t finished cooking yet, he hurled the ball at me. He swung his fist and yelled, “Trying to starve me? If you don’t hurry up, I’ll beat you to death!” I ignored him. The ball hit me hard, making me stumble, but I straightened up and kept cooking. When I finished, I rushed to the ping-pong table in the alleyway. There were a few teenagers there, all dressed like punks, waiting for me. “What took you so long? Start writing!” A few backpacks were thrown at me. I quickly pulled out their homework and got to work. Suddenly, I felt a heavy blow to the back of my head. My forehead slammed into the table. “You think we sent you to school so you could hang out with these lowlifes? You’re a disgrace!” my mother snarled, pointing a sharp finger at my face. My dad kicked me to the ground without missing a beat. I tried to explain that I was only earning money for lunch. They didn’t care. They were just venting their anger after losing at cards. “You’re bold now, huh? Not staying home to work, running around outside. You’ll end up in jail, just like these thugs!” I was used to their abuse by then, but I didn’t want them to insult my only friends. Wiping away my tears, I raised my voice for the first time, “They’re not bad people! They’re my friends. Without them, I’d have starved by now!” They were troublemakers, sure, but they had good hearts. They knew I had no money, so they’d let me write their homework in exchange for a meal. Though, in truth, they never actually turned in the homework. “Starve? It’d be better if you did! You’d save us some food!” “You still talking back? I’ll kill you today!” After another round of punches and kicks, I was dragged back home like a rag doll. “Mute girl, aren’t you supposed to be good at school? Let’s see if you’ll still take tomorrow’s test now.” James stomped on my already injured hand with his shiny new sneakers, eyes full of malice. He was jealous of my good grades. It was his way of warning me.

The Cerebral Interface paused, showing the contrast between the pristine white sneakers and my scarred hand. The reporters in the gallery were now somber, their aggressive attitudes gone, replaced with looks of condemnation directed at my parents. The live stream went silent for a while before comments started flooding in. “Poor Lily.” “These parents aren’t just sexist—they’re insane! He’s just a foster child, but their daughter is their own flesh and blood!” My parents saw the comments but didn’t care. In fact, they shamelessly retorted, “A daughter is only raised for someone else’s family. In the end, you rely on a son!” “Everyone’s kids get hit sometimes. That doesn’t excuse her for abandoning her parents and pretending she’s an orphan!” The judge banged the gavel, calling for order in the court. Once the room quieted down, the Cerebral Interface continued. This time, it showed James at sixteen. I had just been accepted into a prestigious high school as the top student in the county. The school leadership came to our house to congratulate me and brought along some school supplies. Many others came by to celebrate. But just as the atmosphere was at its peak, James dragged me, with my eyes swollen from crying, in front of the school officials. “Do you accept blind students at your school?” he sneered. Everyone went silent. Someone asked, “What happened? Can she still be treated?” I wanted to cry for help, but my mother clamped her hand over my mouth. My father, looking sorrowful, sighed and explained to everyone, “What else could have happened? I told her not to hang out with those gang kids, but she wouldn’t listen. Now look at her! She came back like this. We can’t control her anymore.” “Even if her eyes get better, how can we send her to school? She’s unruly, and her grades were never that good. Who knows how she got those top marks this time? It’s so embarrassing!” After their little performance, the people who had come to congratulate me started leaving, shaking their heads in disappointment. Soon, it was just the four of us in the yard. “Smack!” My mother slapped me across the face. “Were you about to tell them it was your brother who hurt you? I should have killed you when you were born!” James stood by, laughing cruelly. “What’s the point of seeing a doctor? It’s better if you’re blind, then you’ll stop trying to run away.” As their footsteps faded, I curled up in the dark corner, my world plunged into darkness.

The Cerebral Interface rewound James’ memories, showing the reason I had gone blind. After middle school, I knew my biggest challenge was how to pay for high school. Through some friends, I started selling jasmine flower bracelets at a local flea market. I didn’t make much, but I calculated that if I worked all summer, I’d have enough for my tuition. One evening, I had just set up my stall when James showed up with a group of his friends. They stomped on the flowers I had carefully gathered, destroying them. Then, they took the money I had worked so hard to earn. I tried to reason with him, but he grabbed my wrist and slammed me against the wall. He looked at me with disdain. “This house belongs to me. Who do you think you are?” He started to walk away. I swallowed my pride and grabbed his leg, kneeling at his feet. “Please, James, that money is for my school fees. Without it, I can’t go to school!” He sneered. “A girl like you doesn’t need an education. All you need to do is learn how to work and have kids. Who cares about school?” Then he kicked me aside. I followed him into an alley, pleading for him to return at least part of the money. He grew irritated, picked up a handful of lime powder, and threw it into my eyes. I screamed in agony, writhing on the ground. Through the pain, I heard my parents calling out to James. They had bought some bread and were inviting him home to eat. I forced myself to my feet, stumbling toward their voices. “Mom! Dad! James threw lime into my eyes. Please help me!” My mother’s response was cold. “Stop making things up. Why would James do that to you?” My father added, “Who knows what kind of trouble you’ve been getting into again? A girl like you, always running around—you’re an embarrassment to the family!” Their voices faded, replaced by the sounds of them coaxing James to come home for dinner. I was left alone in the dark alley.

Some friends from the gang found me the next day. By then, I had been lying in the backyard for a full day and night, feverish and swollen. They panicked at the sight of me. “You’re burning up! Your eyes are swollen shut. We need to get you to a hospital!” But just as they lifted me, my parents and James appeared. “Put her down. Where do you think you’re taking her?” my father demanded. “To the hospital, of course! If we leave her here, she’ll die!” my friends shouted back. They knew exactly what kind of life I had at home. They were just kids themselves, unable to help me escape before. But now, with my life on the line, they couldn’t stand by. Determined, they started to carry me out. “If you take her, you’ll have to keep her. Don’t bother bringing her back!” my father yelled. My friends hesitated, realizing the weight of the responsibility. They couldn’t afford to take care of me. James grabbed me by the hair and dragged me back, dumping a bowl of dirty dog water over my face. “Know your place, mute girl. You’ll never escape!” The filthy water splashed into my burning eyes, jolting me back into consciousness. With all the strength I had left, I pushed James to the ground. Then, kneeling on the ground, I turned to my parents and knocked my head against the dirt three times. I groped my way out of the house. I had finally seen the truth. If I stayed here, I would die. If I left, there was at least a chance I might live. “James, are you hurt? Does anything feel broken? Do you need to go to the hospital?” my mother fussed over him. “We’ll break her legs and hand her over to you for good, don’t worry,” my father added. They didn’t care that I had left. Because, in their minds, I would never truly escape.

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After five years of marriage, I finally gave birth to a daughter. The entire family was overjoyed. My mother-in-law, Margaret Johnson, was especially eager to help take care of my daughter, allowing me to focus on my career without any worries. Just as I was about to hand my daughter over to her, I suddenly heard a small voice. “Mummy, please don’t give me to that old lady! She’ll sell me!” I was stunned when I heard that voice. I looked around; the TV was off, and there were no other devices playing anything. Was it just my imagination? “Emily, what are you thinking? Hurry up and give the baby to me,” Margaret urged impatiently. My daughter, Lily, had just turned three months old. Ever since her arrival, the whole family had doted on her, and I had stayed by her side every moment. But now, my workplace was pressing me to return, and though I didn’t want to part with Lily, my mother-in-law volunteered to take care of her, so I could concentrate on advancing my career. With Margaret’s kind expression in front of me, I thought I must have been imagining things. As I prepared to hand my daughter over again, that small voice rang out once more. “Mummy! Don’t give her to that old woman! She’ll sell me as a child bride!” I jolted, quickly pulling my daughter close and watching Margaret warily. I had clearly heard that voice! Moreover, it sounded like my daughter’s thoughts? Though I wasn’t sure what was happening, I couldn’t take any chances! “Emily, what do you mean by this?” Margaret’s tone turned icy. “I’m just trying to help you out!” “Pah! Old woman, your so-called help is clearly just a scheme to sell me off to make room for your other grandson!” That innocent voice sent a chill down my spine. I struggled to compose myself and replied calmly, “Mum, I’ve thought about it. Lily is still very young and needs her mother around. I’ll have another word with my boss about work.” Margaret’s face stiffened for a moment before she forced a smile and said, “Look, work can’t be delayed! I can take care of my granddaughter, so you can focus on your career!” “Thanks for your kindness, Mum, but I’d prefer to stay with Lily a bit longer.” With that, I ignored Margaret’s displeased expression and retreated to my room. Once I locked the door, I placed Lily in her crib and softly asked, “Baby, Lily, was that you talking to Mummy just now?” Lily babbled away, waving her tiny hands and feet. I waited for a moment, but I didn’t hear that voice again. Sitting beside the crib, I tried to calm my racing thoughts. The voice I’d heard earlier claimed that Margaret wanted to sell Lily to make space for her other grandson. Margaret only had one son—my husband, Andrew. If she had another grandson out there, it meant that my husband… was cheating?

I met Andrew during our university days. At first, I didn’t like him and clearly rejected his advances, but he didn’t give up, pursuing me for two whole years. Eventually, I was touched by his persistence, and we entered a relationship. A year after graduating, we got married. After marriage, I longed for children, but Andrew insisted we were both in our career prime and that having a child would impact our work, so our intimacy was scarce, and whenever it did happen, precautions were taken. Then, about a year ago, one evening we both got a bit too tipsy, forgot to take precautions, and I ended up pregnant. I was thrilled! At first, Andrew seemed a little hesitant, but soon he was just as excited, buying toys and baby clothes, saying he couldn’t wait to meet our little miracle. Now that I thought about it, was it possible Andrew hadn’t wanted children because he already had a son elsewhere? “Darling, I’m back!” As I pondered this, I heard the sound of the door opening, followed by a knock. “Honey, are you in there? Why is the door locked?” I walked over, opened the door, and smiled, “I must have locked it without realising! What brought you home so early today?” “I’m lucky today, no late meetings, so I rushed back to see my beautiful wife and our precious daughter.” Andrew wrapped me in a big hug before walking over to the crib to gently lift Lily into his arms. “Hey, little one! Did you miss Daddy?” I stayed close, unwilling to let my guard down for even a moment. Lily waved her hands and feet energetically. “Don’t touch me with your dirty hands, you scoundrel! You horrible father! Pah!” I gasped in shock. The voice of my daughter returned! “What are you pretending to be, a good husband and father? Your other son is six years old! You come home late every day, saying it’s work, but you’re actually out with your mistress and your illegitimate son! Pah! I can’t stand to look at you!” At that moment, Lily suddenly closed her eyes, her tiny fists clenched tightly, as if exerting effort. I was still reeling from the previous words when Andrew suddenly exclaimed, “Ugh! She just peed on me!” I snapped back to reality, noticing Andrew’s face twisted in disgust and hatred. No normal father would look like that, even if a three-month-old baby had an accident on him. I held back my anger and heartbreak, taking Lily from him, saying, “I forgot to change her nappy earlier.” Andrew rushed out to clean himself up. As I changed Lily, I heard her voice again. “Mummy, you’re so pitiful. You’ve been kept in the dark for years. Your own daughter could have been sold off and suffered, and now you’ll have to take care of that mistress’s son! Once he’s grown, those beasts will work together to destroy you both! They’re living it up on our corpses…” My hands trembled uncontrollably. The weight of those words was overwhelming. But I forced myself to digest it all. From what I gathered from Lily’s thoughts, it seemed Margaret had pretended to want to help me care for Lily but actually aimed to sell her off in secret. And Andrew, while playing the perfect husband and father, had a mistress and even a six-year-old son. Six years! That meant he must have been involved with that mistress for at least seven years… Back when we were still deeply in love during university! The thought of how sweetly Andrew treated me back then made me feel nauseous. If I had unknowingly handed Lily over to Margaret, she would have surely tricked me into believing she’d lost her, leaving me heartbroken. Then Andrew would bring home his son from the affair, and find some excuse for me to adopt him. Knowing my own character, I understood well that in my grief over losing Lily, I would be vulnerable. If Andrew spun a tragic tale about that boy’s past, I would likely take him in and treat him as my own. No wonder Andrew had insisted on not having children all these years; he only didn’t want to have a child with me because he already had one outside! No wonder! At first, he seemed uninterested in this pregnancy, but later he acted as if he was eagerly anticipating the arrival of our child! At that time, he must have already started plotting all of this with my mother-in-law! Lily was his biological daughter too; how could he let go of her!

Just then, Andrew returned, looking freshly cleaned up. He spoke sweet words to me but didn’t dare to hold Lily again. I couldn’t help but smirk inwardly. It suited me just fine since Lily wasn’t keen on being held by him anyway. “Emily, Mum just told me you’re not planning to go back to work?” Andrew asked, frowning. “Why? Didn’t you say you’d sorted things with your company?” I replied lightly, “I just feel that Lily is still too young, and I can’t bear to leave her. I’ll spend more time with her, and if work becomes too much, I’ll step back.” The truth was, I came from a wealthy family with two rental properties and several commercial units. After university, I could have easily taken over the family business, but I enjoyed the feeling of forging my own path, so I’d continued working. Now, however, protecting my precious daughter was my top priority, and I would give those two no chance to take advantage of me! Andrew looked alarmed. “That’s not acceptable!” His words made him seem a bit overzealous, and he softened his tone. “You know my salary isn’t high. We’ve talked about giving Lily the best life, haven’t we?” I couldn’t help but chuckle internally. So he knew his salary wasn’t enough—he had relied on my income to support the family all these years! “So what? My parents have been wanting me to help them with rent collection for ages,” I replied nonchalantly. Andrew wanted to say more, but I feigned impatience. “Enough! I really don’t want to go back to work. I just want to stay with Lily. Don’t push it. Besides, Mum is getting older, and I really don’t trust her to take care of Lily. What if she takes her out and ‘accidentally’ loses her?” I could see a flicker of guilt flash across Andrew’s face. “What do you mean? That’s impossible…” “I was just saying it off the cuff! Let’s drop this topic.” At that, Andrew didn’t dare to press the issue further. That night, Andrew lay in bed, quickly falling asleep. I, however, was restless, unable to find any peace. This house felt increasingly unsafe. I refused to hand Lily over to Margaret while I went back to work; they would surely become anxious and might do something reckless. I decided I would take Lily back to my parents’ house in the morning. Just then, I heard soft footsteps at the door. I have always had keen hearing, which allowed me to pick it up. A chill ran down my spine, and I quickly closed my eyes, gripping my phone tightly in one hand while holding Lily securely in the other. With a soft creak, the bedroom door slowly opened.

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