Author: Momo Chan

Three Days Before My Wedding I was supposed to marry my boyfriend in three days, but when I went to check on the wedding decorations, I froze in shock. On the huge poster, my boyfriend Marcus looked deeply in love, but the girl next to him was his first love. At that moment, Marcus was standing on the stage, drinking a toast with his ex-girlfriend. I asked him tearfully why he would do this to me, but he just looked annoyed. “What’s wrong with letting Chloe experience being a bride? Why are you so petty?” he snapped. “We’ve been dating for five years. If there was anything between us, would you still be in the picture?” I raised my hand to slap him, but he pushed me away, watching as I lost my footing on the stairs and fell to the ground. At that moment, my heart turned to ashes. This wedding was off. I hope you two deserve each other, bitch and dog, till death do you part! 0 “…Marcus?! You pushed me?!” My ankle was in excruciating pain as I looked up at Marcus and Chloe on the stairs, still in shock. Bang! A wine glass suddenly shattered beside me, glass shards and red wine splashing onto my body, instantly staining my pristine white dress. I instinctively shielded my face and closed my eyes, but the glass still cut my arm slightly. If I hadn’t covered myself, it would have been my face and neck that were cut. That was the wine glass Marcus had thrown to the ground. “You weren’t paying attention and fell on your own. Who are you blaming for pushing you?” Marcus’s mocking voice came from above, clearly angered. “If you hadn’t come here today to make a scene, would this have happened? Stop pretending, Olivia. Don’t tell me you sprained your ankle, what an old excuse!” I tentatively tried to move my ankle, but a sharp pain shot through it. I trembled, trying to suppress it as I looked up at my soon-to-be husband on the stairs, my heart turning to ashes. Marcus and I were supposed to get married in three days. I had left work early today to come see the “surprise” he had been keeping from me these past few days. I had even worn the white dress he had complimented before. Who knew that when I arrived at the venue, this is what would greet me. On the huge poster, Marcus looked deeply in love, but the girl next to him was his first love, Chloe. The moment I saw it, I felt ridiculous. Where did I fit into all this? As I looked down, I caught Marcus drinking a toast with Chloe. There was no one else around, and the love in his eyes didn’t seem fake. When I tearfully confronted him afterwards, this is what happened. It turns out there wasn’t a single truth in Marcus’s words. Saying it wasn’t ready was just an excuse for him to hold a ceremony with Chloe. I had even seen an engagement ring on Chloe’s hand that matched mine. It was utterly absurd. A couple’s ring turned into a trio’s ring – it was laughable. “Marcus, don’t be so fierce… you’re scaring me,” Chloe said from above, her eyes cold but her voice sweet as she clung to Marcus. Marcus seemed to enjoy it, patting her hand on his arm affectionately. “Chloe, she was trying to hurt you first. Don’t worry, she’s fine. She’s just pretending.” My heart suddenly ached dully. I didn’t know what all my years of devotion had meant. I wiped away my tears and limped away from the scene amid their mockery. “See, I told you she was fine,” I heard Marcus say smugly behind me, with Chloe agreeing. “She really was faking it… Unlike me, I would never lie to you, Marcus.” I frowned, stumbling home in a daze. When I sat on the couch to check my ankle, I saw it was swollen like a bun. It was probably because I didn’t treat it right away and then forced myself to walk so far. Looking at my ankle, my eyes welled up and tears started falling as I silently cried while icing it. The ice was edible ice from the freezer, so as it melted, water pooled on the floor. At least my ankle had started to go down a bit. I had just applied some ointment when the door opened. Marcus walked in with Chloe, frowning as soon as he saw the state of the room. “Olivia, what are you up to now?” 0

“…Me? What am I up to?” I looked at him coldly. Marcus immediately retorted self-righteously: “Making a mess of the house – isn’t that you acting up?” I followed his gaze downward and saw the wet puddles and footprints on the floor – Some of which were from the two of them walking in. Seeing that I didn’t respond, Marcus started going off again. “I see you’re fine after all. Chloe was so worried about your foot, she insisted I come check on you. But here you are, able to make a mess of the house?” “You’ve got so much energy, make sure you mop this up later. Don’t let it stain.” I took a deep breath, suppressing the pain in my chest. I couldn’t help but wonder how a person could change so completely in just a few years. Marcus didn’t used to be like this. We met in college and spent some sweet times together. Marcus really used to treat me well, otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed to marry him. I truly believed Marcus was someone I could spend my life with. He remembered every anniversary, every little thing about me. Sometimes I would forget when my period was due, but he kept track of it in his own calendar. I always knew Marcus had a first love named Chloe. He told me about her when we first started dating. He and Chloe were high school sweethearts, but they broke up when they went to different colleges and Chloe had plans to study abroad. When did our relationship start to sour? It started a year ago when Chloe came back. She only needed a look or a word to completely capture Marcus’s heart. Sometimes I cynically thought that the moment Marcus went to pick up Chloe at the airport, I had already lost in this relationship. I really didn’t want to deal with Marcus and Chloe, so I just got up and limped back to the bedroom, wanting some time alone to think. But Marcus brought Chloe right in after me and demanded: “Olivia, what’s with your attitude?! You haven’t said a word since I came in. Did the fall make you mute?” “Marcus, calm down. Oh… what’s this?” Chloe pretended to calm Marcus down while secretly surveying the room. Then her gaze landed on an emerald necklace on my dresser. “So pretty… Such a big emerald must be fake, right? Can I have it, Olivia?” She reached out to take it as she said this. I was utterly disgusted, not understanding how someone could be so shameless. I immediately snapped: “Put that down! Don’t you have any manners, touching other people’s things without permission?!” Chloe was startled by my outburst. Her face instantly crumpled in feigned hurt, as if she was about to cry. Seeing this, Marcus got even angrier. “Olivia, can’t you be less petty? That emerald is fake anyway. If you give it to her, what’s the big deal? I’ll buy you a real one another day.” He actually said it was fake, completely disregarding my feelings. I nearly laughed in disbelief. Without hesitation, I lashed out angrily, the fire I had been suppressing finally erupting: “…Fake? Marcus! You know full well that was left to me by my mother. Don’t push me too far! Buy me a real one? You couldn’t afford it even if you sold your whole company!” “What do you mean?! You think I can’t afford your cheap necklace?!” Marcus exploded in anger, reaching out to grab it. I instantly lunged forward and grabbed a pair of tweezers, slashing at him viciously. “Marcus!” “Olivia!” Marcus clutched his face in shock, staring at me. Beside him, Chloe looked at him in concern, repeatedly asking if he needed to see a doctor. He irritably wiped away the blood on his face. Seeing that I had no intention of putting down the tweezers, He realized I was on the verge of a breakdown and had no choice but to back down, storming out angrily with Chloe. I slowly sank to the floor, staring at the blood on the tweezers. My throat tightened and I burst into loud sobs. 0

Tears blurred my vision. The large movements I had made in my emotional state Left my foot throbbing painfully, swollen and aching. However, the physical pain paled in comparison to the ache in my heart. Even now, I found it hard to believe and couldn’t understand how the once gentle and caring Marcus had turned into this. Was this his true nature all along? Had I simply been blinded by his masterful acting all these years? I had loved him so much, yet his heart always leaned towards Chloe. When we first graduated from college, we were so broke we could barely make ends meet. At our poorest, a meal consisted of bread and canned soup. Only on birthdays could we splurge on a burger and fries. I remember he somehow managed to buy a cheap little cupcake that day. Though simple, it was full of his love. Marcus carefully put a candle on it for me. Though I was already very touched, he still looked upset, constantly apologizing: “I’m sorry, Olivia. It’s my fault you have to live like this. I’ll never forget your kindness! I promise I’ll give you a better life in the future!” Looking at his youthful face still carrying traces of his student days, my heart was filled with warmth. I smiled and nodded, Then blew out the candle, making a wish in my heart. What was that wish again? Oh right, I hoped Marcus would keep his promise and always be good to me. Life is unpredictable. Now that we’re better off, his heart has changed. That man who once had tears in his eyes, solemnly vowing to always treat me well, is gone forever. Thinking of this, I fiercely wiped away my tears and started packing my things despite the pain. As I packed, I realized how little I actually owned after all these years. Perhaps from the beginning, fate never intended for me to treat this place as my true home. One large suitcase was enough to hold all my belongings. I left behind all the gifts and mementos Marcus had given me over the years. They held no meaning for me anymore. I picked up my suitcase, took one last look at what was once our home, then turned and left without hesitation. Once outside, I took a taxi straight to the house my parents had left me. As I pushed open the door, the room was quiet. The setting sun outside cast A warm golden glow throughout the house. Dust motes floated in the air, and a thin layer of dust had settled on the furniture. Standing in the doorway, I had a fleeting vision of my mom coming out of the kitchen, smiling and telling me to wash up for dinner. But it was just my imagination. I closed the door and curled up on the floor, hugging myself. After a while, a muffled sob escaped. At that moment, I really missed them. The sun gradually set, its light moving across the floor until darkness fell. Just then, my phone suddenly rang. I raised my head groggily, Realizing the room was pitch black. It must be the middle of the night. I took out my phone and saw it was Marcus calling. “Olivia! Where the hell did you run off to in the middle of the night?! What’s with all the water on the floor? Didn’t I tell you to clean it up?” The quiet space was suddenly filled with his reproach and dissatisfaction. I stared into the darkness, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. This was truly laughable. He only got home at this hour, Didn’t notice anything missing from the house, didn’t notice that I had left injured. His first reaction was to call and demand why I hadn’t cleaned up! Seeing I wasn’t responding, he continued: “Olivia, a woman like you, trying to stab me with tweezers earlier – how could I possibly marry you?” “Marcus.” Hearing his cold words, I finally interrupted him, my voice weary. “Then don’t marry me. Let’s break up.” With that, I hung up before he could respond. Then I blocked Marcus’s number without hesitation.

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After I was kidnapped, my whole family was relieved because the kidnappers had mistaken me for my sister Bella, who was supposed to be the target. When the police rescued me, I was bleeding from almost every pore on my body. I didn’t cry or make a fuss. I developed emotional indifference syndrome. I had no emotions and could no longer feel sad about anything happening around me. I felt more at ease than I had on any previous day. But later, they all regretted it and begged me to return to my former self. When I returned home from the hospital, there was no one in the house. Even the furniture had been moved out. Unable to contact my family, I called the housekeeper and found out they had moved to a new place. I went to the address she gave me. The whole family was already sitting at the dining table, ready to eat. Seeing me return, everyone at the table looked a bit uncomfortable. “Why didn’t you tell me you were moving?” I asked. “Well, your sister has been having nightmares lately about being kidnapped,” Mom said casually, as if discussing the day’s menu. “I figured the old house might have some bad energy, so we changed locations. Your sister has a delicate constitution. It’s good you’re back – sit down and join us for dinner.” The table was full of Bella’s favorite dishes. My face was covered in thick bandages and I walked with a limp, but no one seemed to care. In the past, I would have been very upset by this. But now I felt nothing. My emotions were gone. Seeing me sit down calmly, Bella suddenly leaned over. “I’ve been so scared these past few days, I didn’t even dare to go out. That’s why I couldn’t visit you in the hospital. Mom and Dad were worried I might get kidnapped too, so they had to stay home with me. You don’t blame me, do you, Aria?” Before I could respond, Dad jumped in: “It’s not a big deal. You two are sisters – can’t you understand each other?” I didn’t know how to react. I was the one who had actually been kidnapped. Bella let out a hearty laugh. “Hehe, I was just afraid Aria might overthink things!” She picked up a shrimp and put it in my bowl. “Anyway, Aria has always been so independent and much braver than me. I really admire people with guts like that.” I silently put down my chopsticks. I’m allergic to shrimp. Not a single person at the table remembered.

My name is Aria, born on July 7th. My sister’s name is Bella. We are full-blooded sisters, believe it or not. A fortune teller said my fate was inauspicious and I shouldn’t be raised at home, so my parents sent me to live with my grandparents in the countryside. For many years, they hardly ever came to see me. It wasn’t until my grandparents passed away that they brought me back home. I returned with high hopes, but I quickly realized this home didn’t belong to me. The day I was kidnapped, Bella had insisted on taking a shortcut through a deserted alley. After walking a bit, she said she needed to find a restroom and told me to wait right there for her. The next thing I knew, I lost consciousness. I will never forget what happened during that time. … “Worthless trash,” the kidnappers growled as their fists rained down on me, venting their anger. They had mistaken me for Bella and kidnapped the wrong person. My family refused to pay the ransom for me, so the kidnappers couldn’t get a single cent. I was starved for three days and tortured for three days. My throat was so raw I couldn’t make a sound. When the police burst in, the kidnappers were about to strip off my clothes. Blood obscured my vision, but I still strained to look behind the officers. No one was there. Not a single family member had come. I wanted to cry but no tears would come. The doctor said I had post-traumatic stress disorder, specifically manifesting as a loss of emotions. Medically, it’s also called emotional indifference syndrome. The hospital room was empty. After the police officer in charge of the case left, no one else came to visit. 2 The people at the dinner table treated me like I was invisible. The three of them chatted and laughed, looking like the picture of a happy family. In the past, I would have tried hard to join their conversation, but today I did nothing. “I’m done eating,” I said, casually wiping my hands on a napkin. “Which room am I staying in?” Mom looked startled for a moment before responding. “The other rooms haven’t been set up yet.” “Aria, don’t blame Mom and Dad. They’ve been so busy lately they can barely keep up with everything,” Bella said, acting protective of our parents while subtly implying I was being unreasonable. She had done this many times before. I countered, “Did I say I blamed them?” I gently put down the hand towel and said flatly, “Then I’ll just pick an empty room. Enjoy your meal.” As I slowly walked upstairs, I could hear my parents’ conversation. “Where did she get this prickly attitude from? Bella, don’t take it to heart. Here, have some of the pigeon soup I made – you haven’t tried it yet!” Bella went along with it. “My sister’s probably just shaken up by what happened.” Mom disagreed. “What does she have to be shaken up about? She came back just fine, didn’t she?” … I closed the bedroom door, shutting out their chatter.

That evening, Noah came home. He’s not the Wilsons’ biological child – he was adopted by my parents. Bella and I call him our brother. I had always dreamed of having an older brother to stand in front of me and protect me. Noah did fit all my imaginations of a good big brother, except he protected Bella. Towards me, who suddenly appeared and took away some of Bella’s attention, he was full of hostility. From the moment he walked in, Noah didn’t spare me a single glance. The lack of welcome was written all over his face. How had I been so blind before? Even when he treated me this way, I always tried to get close to him, fussing over him and giving him gifts. I envied Bella and was jealous that she had the whole family’s love. But now that all those emotions had disappeared, their behavior seemed forced and uninteresting to me. I felt a bit hungry. Noticing I hadn’t greeted him, Noah gave me a couple extra glances. “Hey, I don’t want your stuff,” he said, pulling out an elegantly wrapped gift bag. I recognized it as the birthday present I had chosen for him. It was a jade pendant I had polished and carved myself. I had given him many gifts, and each one was publicly returned to me. He and Bella both seemed to enjoy the process of trampling on my dignity. “Noted,” I said, my attention completely elsewhere. The food was all laid out, but I had no appetite. The table was full of seafood. There wasn’t a single dish I could eat. Just looking at it made my wounds ache. Noah was taken aback. In the past, this girl would always beg him to keep her gifts. This time she agreed so readily – was she playing some new trick to get the family’s attention? “Brother, what did Aria give you?” Bella asked, her hand already unwrapping the gift before he could answer. “Oh, what a beautiful jade pendant! Aria must have put a lot of thought into it. Brother, you should keep it.” Noah pressed his lips together. Keep it? Wouldn’t that mean he was accepting this person? She was the reason Bella felt insecure and cried countless nights. “I’ll never accept anything from her. Take it back,” he said to me, his tone brooking no refusal. My stomach was hurting from hunger. Faced with a table full of seafood I couldn’t eat, I just wanted to go out and get something else. I had barely stood up when Noah, taking it as me being unwilling to face him, grabbed my wrist. “Take your stuff back.” Bella gave me a look that said she was enjoying the show. According to past patterns, I should be crying by now. “Just throw it away,” I said. “What?” Seeing that no one was moving, I took the jade pendant and tossed it in the trash. “I said, if you don’t want it, throw it away. I’m leaving now.” Everyone at the table fell silent. This version of me was too unfamiliar to them. I ignored them and directly left the table. Noah felt a bit unsettled, watching that annoying figure gradually disappear. It was as if something had quietly slipped out of control. Bella glanced at Noah, her hand gripping her chopsticks tightly.

I went out and ate to my heart’s content. When I got back home, Mom and Dad were sitting in the living room waiting for me. “Come here, I have something to say to you,” Dad said. I could probably guess what they wanted to talk about. Since I came back, the two of them had barely spoken to me. The few times they did, it was always about wanting me to go on blind dates for an arranged marriage. Money always circulates among a small group of people, and it’s common for wealthy families to form connections through marriage. They just didn’t want Bella to do these things. Besides, Noah and Bella had grown close over time and showed signs of mutual affection. My parents were unwilling to disrupt that, so they had put off the idea. However, my return solved this problem. The unfavored second daughter was the perfect tool. “Aria, the youngest son of the Cloud family has returned from abroad. You two are about the same age. Why don’t you meet up sometime, have dinner and chat?” Mom added, “After what happened to you, your father and I were so worried. We thought if you had a man by your side to protect you, we’d feel much more at ease.” I had always refused these kinds of arrangements. These rich kids grew up living decadent lifestyles and were involved in all sorts of unsavory business. Mom and Dad clearly didn’t care about my wellbeing at all, which had upset me for a long time. But now it didn’t matter. If meeting once could shut them up, that would be best. I nodded. “Okay, when should we meet?” They seemed surprised that I agreed so readily. The long lecture they had prepared had nowhere to go. Both of them paused awkwardly before Dad recovered first. “Tomorrow at noon, at the restaurant owned by Cloud Corporation. If he takes a liking to you that would be great, but it’s fine if he doesn’t. They’re not just any ordinary wealthy family.” I nodded. The atmosphere fell silent again. “Is there anything else?” I asked. “No… that’s all,” Mom said. I got up to go upstairs, my movements quick and decisive. Mom and Dad exchanged a glance, both seeing complex emotions in each other’s eyes. “This girl has been acting strange lately. I hope she’s not planning anything,” Dad said. “I’ll have the housekeeper keep an eye on her. We can’t let her cause trouble for the family,” Mom replied. “If only she was half as sensible as Bella.” “How could she compare to the daughter we raised ourselves…” I let out a soft laugh. Right, only Bella was “our daughter” in their eyes.

I met the blind date, Zack, one afternoon. He was leaning against the driver’s side window, lighting a cigarette but not smoking it. He didn’t like smoking, but felt compelled to maintain an image of vice. When the cigarette burned out, he messed up his hair and got out of the car. I happened to witness this whole scene. The impossibly handsome young man unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and slouched in his chair with an air of decadence. “Hello, are you Zack?” I went over to greet him. “Mm, and you’re… Aria?” He hesitated, as if wondering what kind of girl would have such an unusual name. “I heard you’ve turned down a lot of people before?” I asked. “Can’t say I’ve turned them down when I’ve never even met them,” he replied. He suddenly smiled. “I guess that makes you pretty special.” “What’s your take on this arranged marriage business?” he asked. “What can I say? My life is worthless, so my family calls all the shots.” The kidnapping incident hadn’t spread, but Zack surely knew about it. He gave me a meaningful look. “Miss Wilson, you and I are the same kind of people.” He raised his glass, wanting to toast with me. I pushed my glass away. “Not quite. I’d like to eat first.” Zack paused for a moment, then rested his chin on his hand with a slight smile. “Alright then, let’s eat first.” I sighed. I had hoped to encounter an idiot, but instead I met someone with more schemes than a beehive has holes. As soon as I finished eating and parted ways with Zack, I received a message from my parents. The Cloud family was very satisfied with me and hoped to proceed with the marriage soon. I had miscalculated. I had only intended to find some fool to cooperate with me so my parents would stop forcing me to go on blind dates. Who knew I’d end up meeting Zack and digging myself into a big hole.

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Everyone’s calling me a homewrecker because I stole my twin sister’s fiancé. But what they don’t know is that this was all an elaborate scheme orchestrated by my sister… all because she can’t have children. I’m getting divorced. My husband, or soon-to-be ex-husband, is named Lucas Parker. He’s a high-level executive at a publicly traded company – respectable job, respectable looks. The only thing not so respectable about him is his wife – me, Olivia Reed. Because I’m the “other woman”, the one who stole her own twin sister’s fiancé. Everyone who knows Lucas is aware of this fact. Ever since I married Lucas, I’ve often been the target of mockery and disdain. I’ve grown used to it. Even if Lucas and I didn’t have this messy entanglement, I was frequently the object of ridicule anyway. And it’s all thanks to my sister, Emily Reed. I’m not sure what kind of relationship she truly had with Lucas, or if there were real feelings involved. But they were officially boyfriend and girlfriend for seven years. If I had to guess why Emily pursued Lucas, I’d say it was probably just to spite me. Emily and I are identical twins. We look very much alike, but our personalities couldn’t be more different. According to our mom, Emily is the perfect lady – gentle, virtuous, and well-mannered. I, on the other hand, am the family disappointment, the black sheep. I have no comment on that assessment. Emily hates me, and I can’t say I’m particularly fond of her either. From a very young age, I was always a loner. I vaguely remember having many friends when I was little, but those friendships never lasted long. Whenever I made a new friend, it wouldn’t be long before they became Emily’s close friend instead. Eventually, I just stopped trying to make friends altogether. Back then, I’d often overhear people gossiping nearby: “Emily, you’re twins, but how come your sister looks so… unpleasant in comparison?” Every time, Emily would smile that fake smile of hers and explain, “Oh no, my sister is fine.” Then when I wasn’t looking, she’d flash a smug grin in my direction. As a teenager, I still had some of that youthful defiance in me. I really couldn’t stand her two-faced act. So I felt I had to get back at her somehow, and my attitude towards Emily grew increasingly hostile. The angrier I got, the more pleased she seemed. In the end, of course, I became the villain, while she was the poor little princess everyone sympathized with. I scoffed at this, trying not to let it bother me. I figured I could just keep my distance. But I never imagined Emily’s malice towards me ran so deep that she’d set me up even on my wedding day. In my youth, I had someone I liked too. But due to my insecurities and tendency to keep to myself, I could only bury those feelings deep in my heart. That guy looked so handsome in a white dress shirt. I remember secretly peeking at his profile in the library, hiding behind a book. He was different from the other boys in our class. His eyes were warm and gentle when he smiled. But now those same eyes look at me with nothing but venom, devoid of any emotion besides resentment. I’m sure you’ve guessed by now – he’s my current husband, Lucas Parker. Back then, I thought I had hidden my feelings well. I believed no one knew about my secret crush. But not long after, rumors about me having a crush on him spread all over campus. I panicked and tried to distance myself, thinking if I just avoided him, the gossip would eventually die down. But I never expected that the next time I paid attention to Lucas, he was already dating Emily. Emily even had the audacity to claim that all those rumors about me liking Lucas were false, because she was the one who truly liked him, not me. The implication was that Lucas had fallen for the wrong person, and that I wasn’t worthy of him at all. Although I didn’t believe her, everyone else seemed to. So I forced myself to believe it too. Later on, probably because of Emily, I started seeing Lucas more often. But the way he looked at me grew increasingly disgusted. There was even one time when he asked to meet me alone. Before I could ask why, he got straight to the point: “Even though you and Emily are twins, I only like Emily. Emily’s been too nice to say it to your face because you’re her sister. But I’m different. I’m telling you to give up on me for good.” I was completely stunned. What was this about? I’d been going out of my way to avoid them when they came over for dinner. What more did he want me to do? To be honest, hearing the person you like directly tell you they dislike you – even someone with skin as thick as mine was genuinely hurt for a long time. But in the end, I healed on my own. Because no one came to comfort me.

On my 23rd birthday, Emily was uncharacteristically enthusiastic about celebrating with me. Based on what I knew of her, I suspected she was up to no good. But after being ignored for so many years, suddenly receiving warmth from my parents and old friends – I found myself craving it. Because of that small desire, I walked right into a trap. You might not be able to imagine how cruel a woman can be when she sets her mind to it. Emily showed me exactly what that looks like. On my birthday, I was dressed like a princess in a designer gown. My parents were there, and even some of my old friends showed up. Because of Lucas and Emily’s relationship, I wasn’t surprised to see Lucas there as well. I sang “Happy Birthday” with everyone, feeling a bit awkward as I made my wish. That day, I secretly told myself that no matter how difficult the past had been, I was ready to make peace with it all. Because I still had my family. Since it was my party, I inevitably drank too much. The next time I woke up, it was to Emily’s piercing screams. I looked groggily at Emily, then at my dad and mom. Their expressions were all different – Emily’s eyes held disappointment, while my parents looked furious. Feeling scared, I asked them, “Mom, Dad, what’s wrong?” “Don’t call me Mom. I’m not your mother,” my mom said as she strode over and slapped me across the face. My head was spinning – I still couldn’t grasp what was happening. As I was slowly coming to my senses, I heard a derisive snort beside me. I turned to look – it was Lucas. Suddenly everything clicked, and I lifted the covers. The evidence of our intimacy was unmistakably displayed all over my body. It was over, I thought to myself. Lucas was very calm. He got up and got dressed, then looked down at me condescendingly. “Olivia Reed, I always knew you were devious. But I never imagined you’d stoop so low. Emily was kind enough to throw you a birthday party, and this is how you repay her? By getting drunk and crawling into my bed?” “I don’t remember anything,” I tried to defend myself. But Lucas’s scorn only deepened. “Olivia Reed, do you think we’re all idiots? Look around – this is my room, far away from yours. If you didn’t do this on purpose, how did you end up here?” At that, I looked up at Emily, and everything became clear. How ironic that just yesterday I was thinking about making peace with the past. I said nothing, just quietly got up and got dressed. Because I knew that anything I said would be useless. When I went out to the living room, it was full of people – everyone who had been at my birthday party. They all knew about my one-night stand with Lucas. Unsurprisingly, their faces were full of contempt and disdain. They didn’t even try to hide their mocking voices as they spoke: “How shameless, sleeping with your own sister’s boyfriend.” “I always knew she was no good, but I didn’t realize she was this awful.” “If you ask me, she’s just desperate. Aren’t there any other men out there? Even rabbits know not to eat close to home.” … For a moment, I thought about ending it all. But in the end, I still clung to life. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here now. As the memories faded, I recalled how Lucas had acted so nobly that day, saying he would marry me. It was laughable. Emily had said she found him “tainted” now, putting on an act of being hurt yet magnanimous as she told him to take responsibility for me. If I hadn’t caught her secret smirk directed at me, I might have really believed she had my best interests at heart.

Lucas and I have been married for five years, and there hasn’t been a single day without arguments. During these five years, Emily has become like the air in our home – everywhere and inescapable. I developed severe depression. I toss and turn at night, unable to sleep, losing clumps of hair. But no one knows about this. After marrying me, Lucas hardly ever comes home. He leaves me alone in this house to fend for myself. Because he has to keep Emily company – I heard she developed serious depression because of what happened between Lucas and me. Speaking of which, Lucas even got physical with me once over Emily’s depression. Because I often couldn’t sleep, I developed a habit of drinking heavily. One night when I came home late, the house was dark. Suddenly I felt something yanking at me, dragging me outside. In my drunken state, I managed to open my eyes and saw Lucas pulling me by my hair. “Lucas Parker, are you insane?” I yelled. “If it weren’t for you, Emily wouldn’t be depressed and suicidal. She’s in such bad shape at the hospital, and here you are partying at bars?” Lucas snarled through gritted teeth, sounding so self-righteous. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly inside. I kicked Lucas away and finally snapped. “If you were really so great, you wouldn’t have ended up in bed with me. You can act all high and mighty now, but you’re only fooling those idiots out there. Lucas Parker, don’t tell me you didn’t recognize me that night. I may have been drunk, but you certainly weren’t. Now you’re acting like some chaste martyr – who are you trying to impress?” Lucas froze. I had guessed correctly. After all these years of liking him, I finally realized he was nothing but a hypocrite in sheep’s clothing. Because of my bad reputation, he had the audacity to make me take all the blame just to protect his own dark desires. On what grounds? I had never wanted to escape this prison as badly as I did in that moment – to go somewhere far away from Emily. I don’t know if her depression is real or not. But my condition is no better than hers. It’s just that I’ve never shown anyone my medical reports. Otherwise, I suspect she would have driven me to suicide by now. Lucas looked a bit defeated. He stopped pulling at me and sat down on the couch, lost in thought. To be fair, he’s never actually abused me physically. I actually kicked him several times just now. Maybe because this fight got particularly ugly, Lucas seemed to tone things down after that. He started ignoring me instead of constantly berating me like before. I suspect it’s because I called him out that night and exposed what was really in his heart. He wasn’t as devoted to Emily as he claimed to be. Lucas and Emily had been together for years without being intimate – Emily told me this herself. She used to brag about how she could keep a man completely devoted without using her body. That man was Lucas Parker. In a way, I felt a bit sorry for Lucas. But I didn’t think he was pitiable. He chose to be willfully blind in the name of love. I couldn’t say anything about that – you can’t wake someone who’s pretending to be asleep. I’m not sure if Emily’s condition has improved. I’ve blocked my parents’ numbers – since they wanted to cut ties, let’s keep it that way. These days, I’ve been thinking about what I really want. I used to want Lucas – that’s been true ever since I first met him. But now I don’t want him anymore. The price I’ve paid for this has been too high. But I never considered divorce. Maybe I hadn’t completely given up hope yet. Sometimes I wonder, if I got divorced, where would I go? In this vast world, I have nowhere to call home. I blocked Emily’s number too, but I know she and Lucas are still in contact. Later, I started frequenting bars, but I only drank – no flirting. The bartender at one place was quite nice. He not only mixed great drinks, but also helped me out of some sticky situations a few times. He was tall, handsome, and seemed very reliable. Maybe because people saw him looking out for me, rumors started spreading in that bar that I was his mistress. The stories got wilder and wilder. He never explained, and I couldn’t be bothered to say anything. After all, I barely knew any of them. But you always have to pay the price for your actions. Some people will come after you even if you don’t provoke them – like Emily. The day I ran into her and Lucas, I had gone to the bar as usual and ordered a bottle. Emily walked in on Lucas’s arm, appearing right in front of me. Lucas’s eyes were dark and unreadable. I glanced at him once, then ignored them. Nothing good ever came from those two being together. But Emily wasn’t about to let it go. She was clearly here to humiliate me. She sat down next to me and said, “Sister, why are you ignoring me? Lucas and I – I mean, my brother-in-law and I – just happened to be passing by when we saw you drinking here.” “What, you want a drink too?” I asked Emily. “Oh no, I can’t drink. The doctor says it’s not good for my health right now.” “Then hurry home and rest. You’re so delicate – if you get sick again, you’ll find some way to blame me, and I won’t be able to defend myself.” While I was talking to Emily, Lucas hadn’t come over. But I didn’t care. I was already over Lucas. The bar owner muttered to the bartender: “So that pretty regular isn’t your girlfriend after all.” That comment seemed to spark something in Emily. She turned to the bartender and said, “My sister is already married. That man over there… is my brother-in-law.” I felt incredibly awkward. I had barely interacted with the bartender, but now he was being dragged into this mess. Looking at him, I felt a bit guilty. But he didn’t seem to mind. He just smiled and asked Emily, “Is that so? But what does that have to do with me? Just like how no one cares why a sister-in-law would be hanging on her brother-in-law’s arm in a place like this.” “That’s because you don’t know why I ended up like this. If your boyfriend was stolen by your own sister, you wouldn’t be saying that about me.” Emily’s voice got louder. The people around us immediately changed the way they looked at me. Some who had tried to hit on me before now had contempt in their eyes. But that bartender seemed naturally unsympathetic towards women. He glanced at Lucas and said, “You two actually look well-matched. From what I can see, I don’t think your boyfriend was stolen. You seem more like you’re here to show off. If your boyfriend was really stolen, you should know how hurtful it is to be the other woman. But you’re still interfering in their marriage. I don’t think you’re as innocent as you claim.” “You…” Emily bit her lip, looking a bit hurt. She turned back to give Lucas a pitiful look. Lucas was about to step in, but he was clearly annoyed too. The relationship between him, me, and Emily was supposed to be a private matter. But Emily had just aired it all out in front of so many people. Lucas had always cared about saving face – how could he not be upset? But the bartender wasn’t done. He smiled and continued, “Your acting skills really aren’t very good. People who work in bars long enough have seen it all. You’re living too fake a life.” With that, he turned and went into the back room behind the bar. Emily had probably never been shut down like that before. Her eyes were brimming with tears. She turned, wanting to seek comfort from Lucas. This time, Lucas actually stepped away from her a bit. He looked at me. I met his gaze, took a sip of my drink, and said nothing. Emily tried to say something else, but Lucas came over to me first. He grabbed my wrist and said, “You’ve had too much to drink. Let’s go home.” I didn’t protest. I left with him. The whole way home, Emily sat in the driver’s seat, chattering away about something. Lucas would occasionally respond, but not much. I don’t know why he was acting so strangely today, but I couldn’t be bothered to think about it. I leaned back in the rear seat and slowly drifted off to sleep. To be honest, this was the most at ease I’d felt in a long time. At the bar, I kept wondering if that bartender would end up pointing fingers at me like everyone else. I have to admit, Emily is very skilled. After all these years, I’ve grown so afraid of her taking things from me. Lucas dropped Emily off at home first, but he didn’t stay. I could tell Emily was extremely unhappy about this, but Lucas didn’t give in. It was quite novel. I didn’t particularly want to watch this scene, but as we were about to drive off, Emily woke me up. She had that look on her face like she was about to cry, trying to get Lucas to stay. I unbuckled my seatbelt and said to the lovebirds, “You two carry on. I’ll take a cab home.” I was about to get out of the car when Lucas locked the doors. He said to Emily, “She’s drunk. I need to take her home first. We’ll talk tomorrow.” And so we drove away, leaving Emily with a resentful look in her eyes. I didn’t say anything, and neither did Lucas.

We arrived home quickly. I went straight to take a shower. When I came out, I saw Lucas sitting on the living room couch, already cleaned up. He doesn’t usually come back here. I’ve been the only one sleeping here. I was surprised he stayed today. I glanced at him but had no desire to talk. I was heading to the bedroom when he followed me in. I was about to ask what he was doing when he pushed me onto the bed. “Lucas Parker, have you lost your mind?” I snapped. “Olivia Reed, you’re a married woman. What’s going on between you and that bartender?” Lucas accused me first. I felt like I understood him less and less. He was all touchy-feely with Emily, and now he was trying to make it look like I was the one having an affair? I struggled hard, but Lucas wouldn’t let me go. He kept pressing against me, slamming into me over and over. This was the second time I’d been with Lucas, while I was fully conscious but completely unwilling. The strange thing was, Lucas was also fully conscious this time. I wonder what Emily would think if she knew. Afterwards, Lucas actually held me and cleaned me up a bit. I thought he must be possessed or something. How else could he suddenly be so gentle with me? Shouldn’t he hate me to death? After that night, Lucas started coming back to our house frequently. He didn’t treat me like before anymore. I don’t know what happened between him and Emily, but he stopped mentioning her to me. After being neglected for so many years, Lucas’s sudden kindness made me start to fall for him again. I even began to feel something called hope. I never went back to that bar after that day. Lucas came home every day after work. We ate together, slept together, watched movies, kissed, made love – it was passionate and intense, like we couldn’t get enough of each other. I was completely addicted. If only I hadn’t gotten pregnant. If only I hadn’t overheard Lucas talking to his parents later. Then I wouldn’t have felt so desperate. I got pregnant a year and a half after marrying Lucas. When I got the test results, I cried. Lucas stood next to me, a flash of complexity in his eyes. I didn’t pay attention to it. I thought that with this baby, we would surely have our own little family in the future. Lucas’s parents’ attitude towards me gradually improved too. But I could tell that every time, they were more concerned about my belly than me. Pregnancy made me very sleepy. Eventually, his parents simply moved into our little home. At the time, I was still daydreaming about how wonderful our big family life would be in the future. Looking back now, I was truly foolish. When I was about five months pregnant, Lucas treasured me dearly. That should have been my happiest time. If I hadn’t discovered the truth, I really would have believed that love could grow over time. One stuffy night, I carefully got out of bed and slowly went downstairs for some water. I was feeling lazy, so I didn’t turn on the lights. Standing at the corner of the staircase, I saw several people sitting in the living room, planning something. It was just like that time before I married Lucas. My parents, Lucas’s parents, Lucas, and Emily were all huddled together, whispering about something that sent chills down my spine. It turned out Emily couldn’t have children anymore. For all this time, the reason she hadn’t come to bother me was that she had made a deal with Lucas and the others. They wanted me to get pregnant and have the baby, then divorce me. That way, they could all be one big happy family again. Because Emily couldn’t have children, she didn’t mind Lucas being with me for a while. But she had one condition – the child I gave birth to would be raised by her. She wanted both the baby and Lucas. Shockingly, Lucas had agreed to this absurd proposal. How foolish of me to think Lucas had had a change of heart. I thought he had finally realized I wasn’t as bad as Emily made me out to be, and that Emily wasn’t as pure and innocent as she seemed. They must want me dead, right? That was my first reaction. Then I collapsed to the floor, making a loud noise. Everyone turned to look at me, their expressions varied. My mom seemed like she wanted to scold me, but I couldn’t hear anything clearly. My consciousness was fading, and I felt a sticky liquid flowing between my legs. In a daze, I think I saw Lucas rush towards me, his face anxious as he picked me up and carried me out. This child must be so important to him, I thought as I lost consciousness.

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His serpentine tail coiled around me, and in a low, deliberate tone, he whispered in my ear, “You locked me up for so long, sis. Guess it’s your turn now…” As a top-tier biologist at the prestigious Genesis Institute, I never imagined that my failed experiment would lead to this moment—being vengefully kidnapped by the very snake-man I raised myself. When I woke up, everything was pitch black. Something cold and smooth was wrapped tightly around my body. I tried moving my arms to break free, but whatever it was constricted even more. Before I could fully process what was happening, a deep, lazy voice murmured near my ear. “I thought someone with your stamina would pass out for at least another two or three days. Didn’t expect you to wake up so soon.” The lights flickered on, and a familiar face came into view. There he was—Eli Hayes. His sculpted upper body was bare, and his massive, crimson-tinted tail shimmered ominously under the light. That very tail was coiled tightly around me, pinning me from the neck down. Even though I didn’t fully understand what had led to this, one thing was crystal clear: I had been kidnapped by Eli. “Eli, I suggest you let me go right now,” I said, glancing at the tail trapping me, my tone flat and unyielding. His gaze darkened. He grabbed my chin with surprising force, tilting my face toward his. “You’re still using that commanding tone, huh? Do you really think you’re still in your lab?” Pain shot through my jaw as his grip tightened. I sucked in a sharp breath. “Ahh… You… let go!” But Eli didn’t budge. His pale, strikingly handsome face moved closer, his voice soft yet dripping with mockery. “Who would’ve thought? The great Dr. Lane feels pain. I always thought your heart was made of steel… and your body too.”

His tail was wrapped around me so tightly that its coldness seeped into my skin, chilling me to the core. Being kidnapped by the very experiment I had raised from scratch stirred a whirlwind of emotions in my chest. I let out a sigh. “Eli, what do you want? What will it take for you to let me go?” Eli stared at me blankly, his face devoid of emotion. “Let you go? Wow, that’s a dreamer’s answer if I’ve ever heard one.” He paused, then suddenly smirked, his lips curling into a sly grin. “Actually, I could let you go… if you agree to one condition.” “What condition?” He leaned in, brushing his lips against the corner of mine. His cool breath tickled my neck, and the atmosphere grew unbearably tense. “Give me a child. If you do that, I’ll let you walk free.”

“…” The moment those words left his mouth, I felt my blood freeze. After three years of working with Eli, I knew one thing for sure: he never made empty promises. If he said he wanted something, he would stop at nothing to make it happen. But this? This was insane. “You’ve lost your damn mind!” I snapped, anger and disbelief coursing through me. “Have I?” he said, his voice smooth and composed. “I’m just trying to help you finish your experiment.” He chuckled, his tone laced with sarcasm. “After all, you spent three long years raising me as your test subject. Wasn’t your goal to create a new generation by perfecting the snake-man genome?” “…” I tried to pull back, but his tail only tightened further, rendering me completely immobile. “What… what are you even saying?” “I’m saying—if those female snakes could do it, why can’t you?” His smile turned wicked, his eyes devoid of any warmth. “Besides, compared to those random snake mothers, I find you far more… interesting.” “For science, sis, don’t you think it’s worth sacrificing yourself… just a little?” “You’re insane! I’m human, you’re… you’re an animal! We’re biologically incompatible!” “Who said we’re incompatible?” Eli’s expression darkened as his tail constricted even further. His cold, smooth body pressed closer, and his voice dropped to an icy whisper. “Don’t forget—I’ve spent years in your lab. Did you really think I was just sitting around, clueless? That I didn’t learn anything?” I froze. His words sent a chill down my spine, and memories of the past three years flooded back—a thousand tiny moments I had dismissed as harmless suddenly taking on a sinister edge. Eli seemed to relish the fear flickering across my face. His tail finally unraveled, and he shoved me onto the bed. “Let me give you some advice,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “You might want to rethink throwing around words like ‘animal.’ After all, even animals have feelings. “Sometimes, animals feel more than humans… people like you, for example.” He shot me one last icy glance before slamming the door behind him as he left.

By the year 2070, an unprecedented AU virus swept across the globe. Strangely enough, this virus posed no threat to humans. Instead, it wreaked havoc on every other species, decimating ecosystems and driving countless endangered species to extinction. In just three years, biodiversity plummeted to catastrophic levels. To combat this crisis, scientists began experimenting with splicing human DNA into animals, hoping to create a fusion of human and animal genes that could pass down resistance to the virus. But despite a decade of effort, no viable solution was found. Scientists failed to develop a virus inhibitor, and wildlife continued to disappear at an alarming rate. With no other options on the table, the gene-splicing program was humanity’s last hope. As a biologist specializing in oviparous animals, I was assigned to the egg-laying species division of the project. Over the course of two years, I fertilized and nurtured thousands of eggs—bird eggs, turtle eggs, snake eggs. Every single attempt ended in failure. After tens of thousands of trials, I finally succeeded. From the egg of a blood python, I hatched a new life form. The creature that emerged was a baby snake-boy, with the head and upper body of a human infant and a long, vibrant, crimson-patterned snake tail. To say I wasn’t disappointed would be a lie. What I had aimed for was a purebred snake capable of mating naturally with female snakes, not some hybrid mutant with potential human intelligence. Still, as long as he was functional—capable of reproduction and survival—it didn’t matter. His purity could wait.

The snake-boy survived the critical five-week mark—the point where nearly every other genetically modified animal had failed. That milestone confirmed it: he was my first successful experiment. “I’m Dr. Lane,” I said to him softly. “I’m your caretaker and researcher. If you’d like, you can call me sister.” I reached out to stroke Eli’s tiny head, my fingers gliding gently over his smooth, red-scaled tail. A surge of pride and affection welled up in my chest. Eli blinked up at me with wide, dark red eyes. His long lashes fluttered, and his small lips pursed in confusion. He didn’t understand a word I was saying, but his innocent expression melted my heart. “…Sis… ter,” he mumbled hesitantly, his little mouth struggling to form the word. I couldn’t resist running my fingers through his soft, jet-black hair. He smelled faintly sweet, and his small, delicate features were so perfect that, for a moment, I forgot he was just a lab experiment. Suddenly, his tiny, cool hands grabbed one of my fingers. Eli clung to my hand tightly, then nuzzled my arm with his smooth cheek. “…Sister…” he whispered again, his wide, glistening eyes brimming with innocence. I froze for a second, startled by the unexpected gesture. Then, before I could react, he leaned in and kissed my cheek with a soft, wet smack. I was speechless. Eli giggled and threw himself into my arms, waving his little hands as if asking for a hug. I opened my arms, letting him snuggle into my chest. He rubbed his soft black hair against my chin, squirming and rolling around in my embrace. And then, he kissed me again. This little snake turned out to be surprisingly clingy. But, well… he was warm, soft, and so adorably sweet that I couldn’t bring myself to mind.

Eli was the crown jewel of my research. I spared no effort in caring for him, personally overseeing every aspect of his daily life. From the moment he hatched out of his white snake egg to the day he opened his eyes and babbled his first words, I was always by his side. When Eli was seven months old, I had just finished feeding him from a bottle and was about to leave the room. But before I could pull my hand away, he reached out and grabbed my wrist, holding on tightly. His dark red eyes glistened as he stared up at me, his lips quivering in a pout. I tried to free my hand, but he clung even harder. For a seven-month-old, his strength was astonishing—on par with a grown man. I couldn’t help but marvel at his physical capabilities. If he was this strong now, how powerful would he become as an adult? But then I reminded myself that it didn’t matter. No matter how strong he got, the lab was fortified with state-of-the-art security systems. Even if he grew three heads and six arms, there was no way he’d ever escape. I softened my voice, trying to coax him. “Eli, be a good boy and let go. I need to go back to the lab.” Eli just pouted harder, refusing to let go of my wrist. I ruffled his hair gently. “If you let me go, I can work on making more siblings for you. Wouldn’t you like some brothers and sisters to play with?” His red eyes blinked up at me, unblinking, unmoving. I frowned, pretending to scold him. “Eli, if you don’t let go, I’m going to get angry.” Hearing that, he glanced up at me nervously, his thick lashes quivering. His lips pressed into a tight line, and he lowered his head. I thought my tone had scared him, so I reached out to comfort him. But before I could say anything, Eli suddenly shot me a sullen look, his cheeks puffing out indignantly. With a small, exasperated huff, he turned his back to me and refused to meet my gaze. …What? Did he just throw a tantrum? At seven months old? I didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. Shaking my head, I grabbed the empty bottle and left the room. I had too many experiments to conduct to waste time soothing a sulking child. After all, Eli was just a test subject. There was no point in getting emotionally attached.

After Eli, I successfully nurtured a red-crowned crane. Unlike Eli, this time the result was exactly what I had hoped for—a purebred crane with no genetic abnormalities. I spent an entire afternoon immersed in the joy of the crane’s birth, running countless tests on its physical data, completely captivated. So engrossed was I that I didn’t notice my phone buzzing repeatedly on the desk. By the time I finished documenting the crane’s data, it was already 10 p.m., and I realized with dismay that I had missed Eli’s feeding time by a full two hours. Guilt-stricken, I quickly prepared his formula and rushed to his room, only to find the little snake-boy lying listlessly on his bed. His long lashes drooped, and he looked utterly drained, likely from hunger. Hearing my footsteps at the door, he lazily glanced up at me before turning his head away in a huff, clearly upset. I scooped him up and held him close, gently tilting his head to feed him, but he stubbornly refused the bottle. His little mouth stayed firmly shut, his expression filled with defiance. I sighed, knowing full well that he couldn’t understand my words, but I muttered anyway, “What will it take for you to forgive me?” To my shock, Eli suddenly opened his mouth and replied, “I won’t… forgive you…” The bottle slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. I stared at him, utterly stunned. He was only seven months old. Not only could he understand me, but he had also started speaking in full sentences? Even a normal human child wouldn’t be able to say anything coherent at this age—at most, they’d babble “mama” or “dada.” Trying to stay calm, I picked up the bottle, wiped it off, and asked cautiously, “What… what did you just say?” Eli crossed his arms and shot me an icy glare. “I said I won’t forgive you.”

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I have a superpower. After killing someone, I can obtain their memories from the past three years. Before the SAT, I killed my boyfriend, the top student, and successfully got into college. When did I first discover this ability? When I was nine, my parents divorced. I was given to my mom. I liked my mom, but I actually preferred my dad more. I often snuck out to see my dad and play with him. But one day, when I went to find my dad, I caught him kissing a lady. My parents had always been discreet around me, so this was the first time I’d seen a man and woman kissing. The lady’s lips were bright red, red like they could devour someone. I felt very angry. Even at my young age, I understood that dad had done something wrong, which was why they divorced. Dad was the bad guy. I angrily ran to my dad’s car and threw a bunch of marbles inside. I wanted them to hurt dad’s butt and make the lady trip. But the marbles got stuck in the brake pads, causing the brakes to fail. The lady was knocked unconscious, and my dad died on the spot. The police checked the security footage and found that I had put marbles in the car. But a nine-year-old child doesn’t understand anything and isn’t criminally responsible. Plus, I had lost my father and was crying hysterically, completely distraught. No one blamed me; everyone thought I was pitiful. But as I cried, my mind was suddenly filled with new memories. In these memories, I saw the lady’s face. It turned out that dad had been doing bad things for a long time. I saw mom and dad arguing, saw dad secretly taking money from home. I saw the lady and dad’s intimacy, saw them disgustingly entangled together. I threw up. Mom and the police thought I was crying too hard and my body couldn’t take it. Only I knew that I felt sick. At my young age, I had seen two intertwined beasts.

Unexpectedly, my sadness dissipated quickly. What lingered was disgust. At the same time, I realized something unique about myself. As a child, I didn’t dare say it; as I grew up, I didn’t want to say it. As I slowly grew older, I realized what this ability truly meant. In middle school, I was in the same class as Emma, the neighbor’s daughter, and we were very close. We went to and from school together, inseparable to the point where we even went to the bathroom together. The teacher jokingly called us conjoined twins. Emma’s personality wasn’t great, but she was very pretty, much prettier than me. I would sometimes hear people say, “That’s the princess and her little sidekick.” I didn’t mind much, but Emma always seemed pleased. I thought this was one of the reasons she was so close to me. People are most unwilling to be outdone by those close to them. Emma liked feeling superior to me, which in a way also showed that she truly considered me a close friend. I was very good to Emma, so good that she became somewhat dependent on me. Emma’s grades were always better than mine, except for English. So I always helped Emma with her English homework, writing it neatly for her. For regular quizzes, as the English class representative, I would help the teacher grade papers in the office. During these times, I would secretly correct a few of Emma’s answers and add some points to her score. Until the teacher discovered this. The English teacher didn’t blame me for changing the grades but instead scolded Emma. The English teacher had always disliked pretty girls who loved to dress up, and with Emma’s poor English grades, the teacher disliked her even more. “All day long, your mind isn’t on studying, but on these sneaky tricks!” “Girls like you will never amount to anything in the future.” Emma’s eyes immediately turned red. She pushed her desk away with a bang and ran out of the classroom. The English teacher initially snorted dismissively, but seeing that Emma didn’t return for a while, she became worried about something happening. She continued teaching for a bit, but still couldn’t help asking me to go check on Emma. I knew where Emma was. She was in the storage room next to the tea room on the third floor. Whenever Emma encountered something upsetting, she would curl up there. I gently opened the door of the storage room, squeezed in, and crouched next to Emma. Emma didn’t look at me, and I didn’t look at Emma either. I understood her; she didn’t want me to see her in such a disheveled state right now. After sitting for a while, Emma spoke. “I don’t like Ms. Thompson.” Ms. Thompson was our English teacher’s name. “I don’t like Ms. Thompson either.” I said, sharing her resentment. Hearing my childish response, she couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Let’s go back.” “Okay.” Emma and I grew closer and closer. But sometimes we have to admit that when it comes to studying, there’s a difference in natural talent. I tried hard too, but I just didn’t have a knack for academics. Emma and I spent almost the same amount of time studying together every day. But Emma’s grades kept improving, steadily rising in all subjects, and even her English was about to surpass mine. Sometimes she would offer to tutor me, but I couldn’t understand at all. Mom would often compare me to Emma, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. I only had Mom left. Seeing my grades not improving, I started to get anxious. A vague, dark thought appeared in my mind. What if I killed Emma? If I killed Emma, then I would have her memories from these three years of middle school. There are many things you shouldn’t think about; once the thought appears in your head, it never goes away. I had an idea. Just last year, the school had installed new air conditioners with very good cooling effects. Many seniors joked that the school only installed air conditioning after they graduated. Emma was quite short and always sat in the first or second row. I, on the other hand, sat in the fifth or sixth row. As summer approached, the school gradually turned on the air conditioning. I would often complain about how hot it was, and then during breaks, I’d walk to Emma’s desk. While chatting with Emma, I would casually turn the air conditioning to 16 degrees Celsius (61°F) on high fan speed. I’d leave when the bell rang for class; sometimes Emma would remember to adjust it back, sometimes she wouldn’t. So Emma often sat through entire classes in the cold air. A few days ago, I had gone shopping with Emma. I told her my mom asked me to stock up on some cold medicine and asked if she needed any. “Why buy cold medicine in the middle of summer?” she asked. “My mom said I’m always in air conditioning at home and school, and then I’m all sweaty outside. The big temperature difference makes it easy to catch a cold, so she told me to buy some medicine just in case.” Emma hesitated, thought it made sense, and bought the same medicine as me. Seeing Emma blowing her nose and complaining of a headache, I knew my chance had come. After school in the afternoon, Emma and I walked home together as usual. “Let’s sit on the grass by the river embankment for a while,” I suggested. We often relaxed and chatted there after school, so it wasn’t unusual. I pulled Emma along, deliberately choosing a spot visible to the nearby convenience store’s security cameras. I told Emma to open her backpack. Emma opened it and saw two bottles of alcohol inside, seemingly high-proof ones. She took the bottles out of her bag. “Ta-da! A surprise for you!” I exclaimed. “We’re about to become high school students. Don’t you want to try it?” I turned slightly, using my hair to cover my mouth. I understood Emma. She was a girl with a rebellious streak deep down. Emma’s parents had always been quite strict with her. She just never had the opportunity to do anything out of line, but she had always yearned for it. Emma held the bottles in her hands, then passed one to me. I turned around, pretending to suddenly have second thoughts and look a bit scared. I waved my hand. “Maybe we shouldn’t? Emma, won’t your aunt and uncle be angry?” Hearing this, Emma became even more determined. “It’s fine, let’s just try it!” she insisted. I put on a hesitant expression until Emma firmly pushed one of the bottles into my hand. We talked about many things. We discussed recent exams, the future, our disliked English teacher, and the evening sunset. She apologized to me. She said sometimes she couldn’t help but treat me like a sidekick. She said I was her best friend, for life. I said yes, that’s right. Seeing that it was about time, I patted Emma’s shoulder and said we should head home. I hadn’t drunk much alcohol, just pretending to sip a few times when I brought the bottle to my lips. Emma, on the other hand, seemed quite drunk, stumbling as she tried to stand up. I had found out beforehand that Emma’s mom had to work overtime recently, and her dad was on the night shift. Emma would be alone at home. I looked at Emma. “Emma, bye-bye.” “See you tomorrow.” “Oh, right,” I said, smiling at her. “You have a bit of a cold today. Remember to take the cold medicine when you get home.” Emma nodded with a smile. In the glow of the setting sun, her eyes seemed to hold a gentle flame. I calmly returned home, ate dinner with Mom as usual, and finished my homework as always. Then I peacefully fell asleep. The next morning, I woke up with a splitting headache. I found some new memories in my mind. I knew I had succeeded.

Emma was dead. When Emma’s mom returned home that night, she found Emma collapsed in the living room. It was too late by the time they got to the hospital. After investigation, the police concluded it was poisoning caused by taking cephalosporin antibiotics and alcohol at the same time. At an age when the internet wasn’t widespread, we middle school students weren’t aware of this common knowledge. Except for me, who possessed my father’s three years of memories. That’s right. The cold medicine Emma and I bought that day included cephalosporin antibiotics. Everything went too smoothly, even beyond my expectations. I had considered many possibilities. Emma might not have taken the medicine as I suggested. Emma might have taken medicine, but not the cephalosporin. Emma might have felt unwell and successfully called for help in time. Her aunt might have come home early and stopped Emma. And so on. Could it be said that even fate was on my side, for things to go so smoothly? As Emma’s best friend, and the last person to see her alive, I was called to the police station to give a statement. I was a minor, so a parent had to accompany me. Looking at the police officer, I appeared very scared. Mom comforted me. “It’s okay, the police officer just wants to ask you a few questions.” “That’s right, little girl, don’t be afraid. Uncle just wants to ask you a few questions,” the officer reassured me as well. They didn’t really think a little girl like me could do anything. “According to the deceased’s mother, the deceased didn’t usually drink alcohol, but you two were drinking outside that day,” he said. “Why was that?” I looked a bit scared and glanced at Mom. Mom encouragingly patted me, indicating it was okay and I should just speak honestly. “Emma said she wanted to drink that day, to feel excited. She suddenly took out two bottles of alcohol from her bag,” I said. “I originally didn’t want to drink, and I even tried to persuade Emma not to, but who knew…” As I spoke, tears started streaming down my face uncontrollably. The police officer nodded. The security footage indeed showed Emma forcefully pushing the alcohol into my hands. The officer asked a few more trivial questions, then let me leave. This case was ultimately classified as a rebellious teenager’s occasional defiance, combined with a lack of common knowledge, costing her own life. Emma’s death was even used as a cautionary tale within the school. I sorted out the thoughts in my mind, feeling like I had discovered a new world. It turned out Emma’s brain contained so much knowledge. My grades improved dramatically, making Mom very happy. I was happy too. On the day of the high school entrance exam, I performed normally and was admitted to the best high school in the city as I had hoped. Mom sold our house and bought a new one near the high school. My new bedroom was very big, with a large window. I even had my own study room. During the summer vacation, Mom enrolled me in a high school preparatory class. So when high school started, I wouldn’t fall behind right away. But I knew this wasn’t a long-term solution. I didn’t have a talent for studying; I wasn’t smart. Even with Emma’s solid knowledge foundation, I would fall behind later. Last time, luck played too big a role. This time, I needed to re-plan my high school life.

I set my sights on Liam. He was the top student in our grade and also my classmate. Liam was as dazzling as his name suggested. With his handsome, clean-cut looks and academic halo, There was never a shortage of girls who liked him. While I was so ordinary. We seemed destined to never cross paths. Through observation and online searches, I discovered Liam’s most frequently used chat app. It was a very niche app. The app used anonymous chatting and didn’t have message notifications. I combed through almost all of Liam’s posts for analysis. He was a sunny, lively boy from a well-off family. He had low blood sugar and often carried sweets with him. He seemed to really enjoy reading classical literature and mystery novels. I changed my profile picture on that app to a beautiful jasmine flower. Jasmine was Liam’s favorite flower. I didn’t directly add Liam as a friend, which would have alerted him. Instead, I cultivated my account. I started regularly sharing daily posts, shaping myself into someone with interests similar to his. After some time, my account had a few scattered followers and no longer looked like a bot. “What do you think Makoto was thinking when she killed Yukio?” I posted one day. It was an out-of-context line referencing the plot of “The Goddess” by Akiyoshi Rikako. Liam hadn’t mentioned reading this book in any of his posts. But I had seen him reading it in the classroom. After sending the message, there was no response. I waited patiently. A day later, I received Liam’s reply. “Protection and fear, I guess.” “Hello, how did you know I was reading this?” “Fear? Do you think Makoto was afraid of Yukio?” I ignored his second question. “I think Makoto was afraid of past memories.” Realizing I had no intention of revealing my identity, Liam didn’t pursue it further. We continued chatting about our interests. At first, it was just one or two exchanges a day, and I would quickly withdraw after getting a response. As time went on, Liam found that I was a book enthusiast with interests extremely similar to his. Our chat times gradually lengthened, moving from books to movies. Until one day, Liam asked me: “You’re really interesting. I’d like to know how old you are? Which city are you in?” I didn’t respond anymore. For several days, I didn’t reply to any of Liam’s messages. He sent many messages, apologizing for his intrusive questions. About a week later, I finally responded to his message. “If you want to know me, come to the rooftop of the school building tonight.” I was such an ordinary girl that if I didn’t use some special methods, I could never get close to Liam. He was surprised to see me. I asked him what was there to be surprised about. He sheepishly scratched his head. “Your knowledge is broader than mine, and you have your own insights.” “I always thought you’d be older than me.” I smiled ambiguously. In a sense, I was indeed older than him. Liam wanted to interact with me at school too, but I refused. I said there were too many people around him, and I didn’t like being in the spotlight. So we agreed to meet on this rooftop every Friday evening. Week after week, season after season. Liam and I grew closer, though no one knew we knew each other. On a winter evening in our second year of high school, Liam confessed to me. I put on Emma’s smile that boys found most appealing. His eyes were bright as he cupped my face, wanting to kiss me. I didn’t refuse. Liam and I started a secret relationship. There were two reasons for not going public. First, I didn’t want others to know I was involved with Liam, which would make it easier for me to act later. Second, isn’t there an exciting, forbidden thrill to meeting in secret? Just like in middle school, my grades kept getting worse, steadily declining. Although Liam often tutored me on weekends, it didn’t seem to help much. I don’t know if it was because I was naturally slow-witted, Or if my mind had become completely dependent on others’ knowledge. By senior year, I had become the bottom student in the class. The teacher had even called my mother in to discuss my declining grades. Not yet. It wasn’t time to act. Every year in early summer, around May or June, there would be a big fireworks show in the suburbs of our city. High school kids all loved watching fireworks. That would be my best opportunity to act. Our school had both day students and boarding students. My friend Jessica, who I often hung out with at school, was a boarding student. I frequently visited Jessica’s dorm room and got along well with her roommates too. Our school strictly prohibited the use of unauthorized electrical appliances in the dorms. “Why is that?” I curiously asked Jessica. “It trips the circuit breaker. A girl secretly used a curling iron in the dorm before and it caused a power outage for nearly an hour before the electricity came back on,” Jessica explained. Jessica made an exasperated expression, seeming to express dissatisfaction with the school’s power supply. I nodded thoughtfully. One hour. That’s enough, a long time. When is a classroom most chaotic during school? When there’s a power outage. And when there are fireworks outside. So what if the power went out while fireworks were going off? Everyone would rush to the windows, watching the fireworks outside and exclaiming in wonder. Youth is so boring, everyone knows that. I continued to meet and be intimate with Liam as usual, going to the library together on weekends to study. I would secretly glance up at him from below. Watching him pretend not to notice, but his ears turning red. He had a nice jawline, and his Adam’s apple was sexy too. If I stared too intensely, he might even swallow nervously. At times like that, I couldn’t help but laugh, trying not to make a sound. “Winter break is almost here,” Liam said softly, leaning close to me on the subway ride home. “Yeah.” “Then we won’t see each other for a long time.” I saw Liam looking a bit dejected. I patted his head. “We might still see each other.” My grandfather passed away last year, and grandmother soon after. This New Year, it would just be me and Mom. “We can meet before New Year’s Eve.” His eyes sparkled brightly as he stared at me without blinking. “Let’s go to the lantern festival together. Don’t they have one every year?” I smiled and said to him. “It’s a promise.” “Mm, it’s a promise.” After the final exams ended, everyone started packing up their things to go home. I told my friends to go ahead and walked to the drama club’s prop room. This was the burial place I had prepared for Liam. The room’s window faced the central square. The small room was filled with equipment and props, lots of costumes for performances, and a mannequin with yellow hair. As soon as I opened the door, the mannequin startled me. I silently turned the mannequin around to avoid being scared by that face again. After observing for a bit, I left the room. On the day of the lantern festival, I put on my new red cotton jacket. Mom said this color made me look fair-skinned. I looked in the mirror and indeed, it did make me look quite fair. After waiting at the street corner for a while, I saw Liam arrive, running late. He was breathing heavily from running. “Sorry, my mom held me up for a bit, so I’m late.” He looked down at me and grabbed my hand. Liam’s hand was very large, and quite warm, probably from just running over. I was stunned for a moment, then held his hand back. The lantern festival was very crowded. He protected me, not even letting my hair get messed up. The warm yellow lights shone on his face, making his smile look so radiant. I gently rubbed the calluses on his hand from writing, and felt his walking pace falter for a moment. “Do you want this?” Liam pointed at a pair of rabbit lanterns at a stall across the way. “They’re cute, but I don’t need them.” I shook my head honestly. But Liam still pulled me over there. “Take me home with you, look how cute I am~” Liam picked up a rabbit and spoke in a high-pitched voice, imitating it. I laughed, and we actually bought that pair of lanterns. Liam and I each held one as we walked through the lantern festival. Just like every other couple here. “You look beautiful today.” Liam didn’t look at me, but his face was a bit red. “Really? Mom said red makes me look fair-skinned.” “It’s not the clothes that are beautiful, it’s you.” “I like you.” We had walked to a less crowded area. Liam stopped and looked at me seriously. He seemed to be waiting for my response. “Mm, I like you too.” I put on what I thought was Emma’s most beautiful smile and looked at him. On the way home from the lantern festival, I fell into a drainage ditch. I claimed I had broken a bone. So when school started again, I walked into the classroom with a leg in a cast. Friends asked with concern, and I just said I had accidentally fallen into a ditch. I often hobbled along the hallway on two crutches, moving extremely slowly. Sometimes to get water, sometimes to use the bathroom. After a while, all the students on our floor knew me as the girl with the broken leg who walked very slowly. About two months later, I had the cast removed, but I still walked very slowly. When people saw me, their first impression was — that girl with the broken leg. That was exactly the impression I wanted. The fireworks show was approaching. My plan was about to be implemented. I went to the girls’ dorm and turned a hair dryer on full blast, loosely plugging it into a power strip. I placed a brick on top that was just about to fall, along with a vibrating alarm clock set for a specific time.

4 3 2 1 The moment the fireworks show began, the teaching building connected to the dorms lost power. I moved at the fastest speed of my life, put on gloves, and grabbed the fruit knife I had bought in advance from the school store, which almost every student and teacher had. I quickly ran to the drama club’s prop room on the second floor. The door wasn’t closed. Liam had his back to me, watching the fireworks outside the window. I stabbed the knife into the back of his head, then ran away as fast as I could. The fireworks were too loud, and the powerless classroom was too dark. I ran at top speed, feeling like my heart was about to burst out of my chest. I quickly tore off and discarded the disposable gloves on my hands, then picked up the crutches I had left by the back door of the classroom earlier, silently walking into the classroom. Squeezing into the crowd watching the fireworks, I deliberately tripped and fell, causing several classmates to turn and look at me. “It was stuffy in the classroom, so I thought I’d go out for a walk, but I fell before even getting out the door,” I explained. The classmates standing nearby chuckled lightly, and two girls came over to help me up. Jessica was standing in front, and when she saw me, she pulled me to the very front. “Look! Isn’t it beautiful?” she exclaimed. It really was beautiful. The fireworks bloomed in clusters in the sky, dazzling and brilliant. “Yes, it’s really beautiful.” After watching for just a few more minutes, our homeroom teacher rushed over. We were all hurried back to our seats to be quiet. Only Liam was missing from the classroom. “Where’s Liam? Where did he go?” My heart started pounding rapidly. It’s okay, the power was out, the security cameras couldn’t have recorded anything. And with my broken leg, I couldn’t have quickly killed someone and run back. Many people thought I had been in the classroom the whole time; I had an alibi. The knife I used was the most common one in the school, many people had the same kind. I moved very quickly, and it was dark outside, no one could have seen… While I was still going over everything in my mind, “Teacher, I’m here,” I saw Liam walk in from the doorway. 5 My brain short-circuited, going completely blank. Why didn’t he die? Why didn’t Liam die? Yes, I was too nervous and overlooked the most important point. After stabbing, I didn’t gain any new memories in my mind. So why didn’t Liam die? Was it because I didn’t stab hard enough, not causing a fatal wound? But there wasn’t even a small injury on his head, let alone any bleeding. Then who did I stab? I felt Liam’s gaze on me and instinctively avoided it. I kept replaying the scene that had just happened in my mind, along with the countless rehearsals before. Where exactly did things go wrong? What step wasn’t right? After school, I returned home in a daze. I opened my phone to see messages from Liam. “Why didn’t you come today?” “I waited for you for a long time.” I suddenly realized something. I abruptly stood up and rushed out of the house, ignoring Mom’s calls behind me. I arrived at school and walked into that prop room. Sure enough. That fruit knife was stuck right in the head of the mannequin I had turned around earlier because it scared me. I felt like laughing a bit from anger. I had meticulously planned for so long, only to end up with such an absurd outcome. It was hard for me to accept. I returned home somewhat dejectedly, seeing Mom waiting for me at the door. I just said I forgot to grab something and went back to get it, brushing it off. Thinking about the upcoming SAT and having to start planning how to kill someone again tomorrow, I felt physically and mentally exhausted. I didn’t even have the energy to reply to Liam’s messages. “Why aren’t you responding? Did I do something wrong?” I received another message from Liam. I decided to just give up entirely. “Stop bothering me,” I sent this message, then turned over to sleep. Unexpectedly, the next morning, Liam’s memories flooded into my mind. Liam was dead. He had fallen into the river near my home and drowned.

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My twin sister and I couldn’t be more different—two extremes of morality. She was born with a heart of gold, kind and selfless, but diagnosed with an intellectual disability. I, on the other hand, was born with a violent streak, tested positive for a “warrior gene,” and ended up in prison for assault. It wasn’t until I found out that my sister had been relentlessly bullied by her classmates that my world cracked open. They live-streamed her suffering on the dark web, letting viewers vote on how to torture her next. When the bullies promised that their next “show” would involve forcing her into gender reassignment surgery, I laughed. Live-streamed bullying? They have no idea I’m about to get out. Bullying is what I do best, too. When I walked out of prison, the other inmates breathed a collective sigh of relief. The weather outside was brutal—howling wind, thick snow falling in sheets. Not exactly a welcoming sight. But the person waiting for me wasn’t my sister, as we’d planned. Instead, it was my mother, her hair now completely white. She looked like she’d aged decades overnight. Her once lively, easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced by swollen, bloodshot eyes. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t take me home. Instead, she drove me straight to the hospital. Through the glass window of the ICU, I saw my sister lying on the bed, tubes sticking out of her fragile body. My fist slammed against the glass, my breath fogging up the surface as I tried to steady myself. “What the hell happened?” I growled. My mother’s trembling hands held up her phone. Through the chaotic noise of screams and laughter, I saw a video playing on the screen—a video of my sister. Her face was so swollen it looked like a balloon. That’s when I learned the truth. The sister who had always pretended to be happy and carefree had been tormented by her classmates for months. Not only did they bully her, but they also recorded it and streamed it on a dark web channel called Room 9 to make money off her pain. In the video, a girl with brown hair smirked as she drew a humiliating cartoon turtle on my sister’s face with a marker, complete with exaggerated features and crude anatomy. My sister’s face, once bright and innocent like a deer’s, was now swollen beyond recognition. Her tear-filled eyes were reduced to tiny slits, and wherever the marker dragged across her skin, it left deep, sunken lines on her inflamed face. The camera shook violently, showing my sister kneeling on the floor, stripped of her dignity, a dog leash around her neck. She couldn’t move. The laughter in the background was deafening. Three girls and one guy took turns humiliating her, each one laughing louder than the last. The brown-haired girl yanked my sister’s hair and haphazardly shaved it off. Then, she forced my sister to face the camera. “Say cheese for the big brothers watching!” she taunted. My sister’s weak, hoarse voice trembled as she managed to whisper, “You said there were stray kittens that needed help… You lied to me.” The brown-haired girl burst into laughter, exchanging amused glances with her friends as if to say, Can you believe this idiot? She covered her mouth with fake modesty, giggled, then tilted her head in mock flirtation. “Do I look like a little kitten? Meow~” she cooed, before erupting into more laughter. Behind her, the guy was already impatient. “Quit wasting time,” he snapped. “Let’s get started!” My sister was shoved to the ground, forced into a degrading pose with her legs, making the peace sign with her fingers. The louder the bullies laughed, the more gifts and donations flooded the livestream’s chat. The brown-haired girl, having had her fill of fun, adjusted her hair and leaned close to the camera, licking her lips seductively. “So, big brothers, what do you want to see next? We can do anything.” The chat lit up with suggestions. “Have you guys done the eel trick yet? Let’s relive the classics.” “+10086.” “I’ll send a gift for that. Everyone else, keep it coming.”

The brown-haired girl wore a mock expression of regret. “Too bad we don’t have the ‘props’ for that right now. Guess we’ll save it for the next stream.” The chat lit up with another suggestion: “How about golf balls? Three of them! I can see a golf set in the corner of the room!” The brown-haired girl turned to look, clapping her hands in delight. “Brilliant!” My sister’s hoarse voice cried out, begging for mercy, but her pleas only fueled their excitement. They pinned her down like a fish flopping on a cutting board, completely at their mercy. The anguished screams echoed through the phone’s speaker. My mother couldn’t bear to watch anymore, but I kept my eyes glued to the screen, memorizing every face. One of the bullies, a chubby girl, pulled a frozen popsicle from the fridge, a nasty smirk playing on her lips. “Let me help cool her down,” she sneered. “Maybe it’ll stop her from acting so desperate.” The next second, my sister’s head snapped back, her entire body convulsing in pain. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head before she passed out, leaving the bloody golf ball to roll onto the floor. The brown-haired girl bent down, picked up the bloodstained ball, and grabbed my sister’s swollen face, squeezing it viciously. “Weren’t you supposed to be kind? Weren’t you supposed to be pretty? Even that guy, Sean, liked you.” “Don’t think I don’t see through your act. Look at you—you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” She tried to shove the bloody ball into my sister’s mouth, but even unconscious, my sister’s jaw stayed clenched tight. The bullies pried her mouth open, pulling at her lips like cracking open an egg, until her teeth shattered. Blood and shards of enamel spilled from her mouth, choking her. The brown-haired girl recoiled in disgust, slapping my sister’s face. “Gross!” she exclaimed. Then they all started laughing again, as if this were the funniest thing they’d ever seen. I clenched my fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. The fury I’d been holding back began to boil over, clouding my vision. “Your sister lost several teeth,” my mother sobbed. “Her lower body was torn apart. They…” Tears spilled from her eyes as she choked on her words. “They stapled her…” Her voice broke. “They stapled her together with a stapler. The doctors said she’d need at least five reconstructive surgeries just to restore basic function.” “And that’s not all. They found thumbtacks in her stomach. And… and pieces of a cat.” “Your sister loved cats more than anything.” My mom collapsed to the floor, burying her face in her hands. “What did I do to deserve this?” she wailed. “Did you report it to the police?” I asked coldly, my voice cutting through the room like a knife. My mother’s sobs only grew louder. “We wanted to,” she cried. “But they threatened us. They said they had worse videos. If we went to the police, they’d make it so your sister could never show her face again.”

What the school and the bullies’ parents did next completely destroyed the last shred of my self-control. My parents, desperate for justice, went to the school first. The school, however, pretended like nothing had happened. The principal claimed, “Unless I see it with my own eyes, videos can be faked. For all we know, someone could’ve Photoshopped this. I could whip up ten more just like it.” It was all because the brown-haired girl’s father was one of the school’s major donors. That scumbag didn’t just refuse to hold his daughter accountable—he had the audacity to insult my parents. “Maybe you should get your daughter checked out,” he sneered. “Is her condition getting worse? Or maybe you two need to get checked—you’re dumb enough to believe everything a slow kid says. Unlike you, I’m busy and don’t have time for this nonsense.” Before my parents left, he couldn’t resist one more jab. “Don’t forget, we only admitted your daughter because we wanted to support people with disabilities. Maybe you should show a little gratitude instead of complaining.” Even my sister’s homeroom teacher defended the bullies, claiming that my sister had a “two-faced personality,” pretending to be sweet while secretly bullying others. The victim was painted as a villain, spat on and slandered. My dad couldn’t take it anymore. He went to the company owned by one of the bullies’ parents to demand justice. The result? The security guards dragged him to a spot with no cameras and beat him so badly he broke his leg. He’s still recovering at home. The bullies? Untouched. Unbothered. My family? Completely torn apart. I’d never heard of justice working like this. After much hesitation, my mother played me an audio recording. It was from the day my dad confronted the bullies. Their voices were filled with arrogance, dripping with mockery. “Oh, so you’re saying we bullied her? Fine. Then yeah, we did. We bullied her. What are you gonna do about it?” “When’s she getting out of the hospital? Next time, we’ll do the gender reassignment surgery for free. Hahaha!” The laughter was like knives stabbing into my mother’s chest. When she looked at me, her eyes were filled with despair. But I just smiled. “Bullying?” I said, my voice steady, calm. “In prison, bullying is what I do best.”

My name is Tiana Blake. My twin sister, Tara, and I may share the same face, but we’re polar opposites when it comes to morality. When we were kids, Tara and I once came across a sick puppy on the street. Tara cried, heartbroken over the poor thing’s suffering. I thought about it for a moment, then grabbed the puppy by the neck and snapped it. In my mind, the fastest way to end suffering is death. Tara, however, screamed and cried uncontrollably. Every holiday, when we visited relatives and the family butchered pigs, Tara would cry so hard she’d pass out. Meanwhile, I was the one pinning the pigs down, my strength unmatched by anyone else. Watching the blade sink in, white turning red as steaming blood sprayed across my face, brought me an addictive sense of satisfaction. As we got older, my parents eventually realized something was off with Tara. She was slow to react to things, so they took her for an evaluation. The doctors diagnosed her with a mild intellectual disability. Devastated, my parents told me it was my responsibility to look out for her. I took that mission to heart. But life has a way of piling on. One New Year’s, some bratty kid called Tara a “retard” and threw firecrackers at us. I pinned the kid down, lit an entire handful of firecrackers, and shoved them into his mouth. By the time the firecrackers went off, the kid’s baby teeth were blown to bits. His parents wailed and demanded $100,000 in compensation. My dad made me kneel in front of a statue of the Virgin Mary and pray for forgiveness. “Tiana,” he said, his face full of worry. “Do you understand how much pain you caused his parents? Don’t you care about their feelings?” I thought about it carefully, wondering how to stop them from feeling pain. Finally, I came to a conclusion. “Then we should just kill his parents too. That way, they won’t feel anything anymore.” The look on my parents’ faces shifted to pure horror. They took me to get evaluated as well. The results? They found the so-called “warrior gene” in my DNA. In short, I was born to be a criminal. A high IQ combined with a tendency toward extreme violence. Born with freakish strength and a knack for manipulation, my mind naturally gravitated toward solving problems in the most ruthless ways possible. The doctors were right. Trouble followed me wherever I went. When I was nine, my classmates made fun of me, saying I looked like the villain from a cartoon. I lured one of them outside, smashed his mouth with a brick until it was a bloody mess, then ran to the police station crying, claiming he’d attacked me and tripped while chasing me. At eleven, my uncle owed my dad money and hadn’t repaid it for years. At a family dinner, he mocked my dad, calling him money-hungry. I waited until he got drunk and went outside to pee, then cut his hand so badly it was barely hanging on by a strip of skin. I ran back to the table, crying to my relatives, claiming he’d tried to touch me inappropriately. I became a regular at juvenile detention, but I never stayed long. Each time I went, I’d learn a few new tricks before coming back out. By sixteen, I finally slipped up.

Tara saw an elderly woman fall on the sidewalk and, being the kind-hearted person she was, helped her up. The woman turned around and accused Tara of pushing her down. She checked herself into the hospital and refused to leave, claiming Tara had paralyzed her. In front of the media, the woman twisted her wrinkled face into a mask of self-righteousness. “I’m just an old woman,” she said. “I never lie.” Her family jumped in, shouting, “If she didn’t push you, why did she help you? Guilty conscience, huh?” So, I waited for my chance. I kidnapped that old hag, strapped her to the back of an electric scooter, and ran her over again and again. By the time I was done, she got her wish. She was permanently paralyzed. This time, I couldn’t get away with it. Security cameras caught everything. I’ve hated cameras ever since. Since I’d hit the legal age for criminal responsibility, I was sentenced to one year and eight months in prison. With good behavior, I only served a year. Good behavior was easy—I ruled the place. No one dared cross me, and I lived like a queen inside those walls. The vibration of Tara’s phone pulled me out of my thoughts. It was a message from those bullies. “Make sure you come back next semester. We’re not done playing with you.” Playing? I thought, a cold smile spreading across my face. They have no idea who’s about to start playing with them. I turned to my mom, forcing a sweet, innocent smile. “Do I look like Tara?” I asked. She flinched, her voice trembling as she answered, “Y-yes…” That winter break, I did only one thing: I collected every piece of information I could about those bullies. I found a class video someone had posted on social media—one of those cheesy school projects where everyone talks about their dreams. Watching it now was almost laughable. The brown-haired girl stood confidently in front of the camera, speaking with conviction. “My name is Wendy Young. My dream is to become a philanthropist, to help those in need, to make sure no one goes hungry or cold ever again.” Wendy lived in the upscale neighborhood of Riverwood Estates. I took a temp job as a delivery driver in the area, keeping a close eye on her house. Her dad, one of the school’s board members, owned a successful company. Her mom was a high-profile attorney. With parents who were always busy, Wendy was spoiled rotten and given free rein to do whatever she wanted. She’d become the queen bee of not just our school, but several others nearby. Rumor had it that Wendy once beat up a girl at a karaoke bar just because they were wearing the same outfit. The girl eventually jumped off a building, unable to cope, but the story mysteriously disappeared from the internet. Her two sidekicks were no better. One wanted to be a doctor, to “heal the sick and save lives.” The other dreamed of becoming a teacher, to “educate and inspire the next generation.” In reality, they were Wendy’s lackeys, doing her dirty work in exchange for favors and protection. Then there was the guy, Carl Stone. In the video, he flexed his muscles and bragged, “My dream is to become a cop, to take down criminals and serve justice.” Carl was nothing more than a spoiled rich kid, hopelessly infatuated with Wendy. She strung him along, and he followed her like a lovesick puppy. For fun, he spread disgusting rumors about Tara, Photoshopped obscene images of her, and even edited fake obituaries. Does karma exist in the world of school bullying? If it doesn’t, I’ll make sure it does.

It’s obvious—justice doesn’t always prevail. These bullies were born with privilege, backed by wealth and power, untouchable in a world where karma is just a fantasy that keeps victims clinging to hope. Without someone like me, they might have coasted through life, effortlessly reaching heights others could only dream of. But unfortunately for them, their only dream now will be escaping my grip. As I slung my backpack over my shoulder, I couldn’t help but smile—a deceptively sweet, almost goofy smile. Like a predator entering a city, I had no intention of obeying its rules. Social norms? Red lights? None of that mattered to me. The first day of school, the classroom buzzed with good spirits. The teacher stood at the front, directing students to clean the room. Meanwhile, Wendy Young and her gang of four lounged by the back door, eating sunflower seeds and laughing obnoxiously, their carefree vibe clashing with everyone else’s busyness. Wendy, chewing gum, pulled a perfume bottle from her bag and sprayed her hair liberally. Carl Stone leaned back in his chair, a cigarette between his fingers, blowing smoke in the teacher’s face without a care in the world. Lily, the chubby girl, cracked seeds between her teeth, smirking. “Do you think that idiot Tara will show up?” Lily sneered. “If she doesn’t, we’re gonna lose out on so much fun.” Wendy rolled her eyes, setting down her perfume. “Doesn’t matter where she transfers to,” she said lazily. “We’ll just find her and corner her at her new school.” Carl flicked his cigarette to the ground, sending sparks flying. “Damn,” he muttered. “Last time wasn’t enough. Next time, I’m bringing an eel—longer and thicker than ever.” At that moment, I pushed the door open and walked in. The teacher spun around, her hands on her hips. The moment she saw me, her face twisted into a scowl. “Your parents caused such a scene last year that I lost my bonus!” she snapped. “You’ve got some nerve showing your face here!” I didn’t respond. She wasn’t done. “If you’ve got a screw loose, you shouldn’t even be in school. Trash like you will never amount to anything.” “You’re the rotten apple ruining the whole barrel,” she spat. “Students like you are better off dead.” Wendy smirked, dragging out her words mockingly. “Don’t worry, Ms. Lee. My dad can fix your bonus—maybe even get you a promotion.” The teacher’s tone instantly changed. “Oh, of course. Thank you, Wendy. That would be such a big help.” I chuckled coldly. “So, you’re just a lapdog,” I said. The teacher’s face turned bright red, her dignity shattered in front of the class. “What did you just say?” she barked, storming toward me. But I didn’t flinch, which made her hesitate. She sneered, trying a new tactic. “Oh, I remember now. Your broke-ass dad was the one who kneeled at the school gates, begging for money. He looked just like a stray dog.” I cupped my hand around my ear, pretending to listen. “Do you hear that?” I said lightly. “Sounds like barking.” Her face contorted with rage. “I’ll rip that filthy mouth of yours to shreds!” She lunged at me, her hand reaching out, but I caught her wrist mid-air. With one quick twist, there was a loud pop as her shoulder dislocated.

I cleared my throat and yelled dramatically. “Ms. Lee, don’t pull my ear like that! It hurts!” My exaggerated cries drew a crowd of curious onlookers. The teacher, clutching her limp arm in agony, couldn’t free herself from my grip. I added a flourish, twisting her fingers with a loud, satisfying crack. “Ah! My fingers!” she screamed. “And my ear!” I shouted back. A teacher from the next room rushed in, his face pale. “Ms. Lee, you can’t just pull a student’s ear like that!” Sweat poured down Ms. Lee’s face as she struggled to speak, too overwhelmed by the pain. I leaned in close, whispering in her ear with a chuckle. “You’d better get that looked at. What if they can’t fix it?” Then I let go. She stumbled back, cradling her hand, the dislocated fingers trembling as she turned and fled with the other teacher’s help. Wendy, watching the scene unfold, didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. To her, it was just the return of some entertainment. She pulled a utility knife from her desk drawer, flicked the blade out, and pointed it at me. “Get over here,” she said. I took a slow step forward, my heartbeat quickening—not with fear, but with excitement. To everyone else, though, I must have looked terrified. Wendy grabbed a bucket of dirty water, spat into it, and kicked it toward her friends. The others followed her lead, spitting into the bucket until the surface was coated with thick, yellowish foam. Wendy leaned back, arms crossed, nudging the bucket with her foot. “Here’s your welcome gift,” she said smugly. “Drink it.” I glanced around. The other students were just spectators, watching with amused indifference. None of them planned to intervene. Behind Wendy, I saw him: Sean. The guy who’d caused my sister so much pain. He was sitting with his head lowered, pretending not to see me. Carl lit another cigarette, smirking. “Don’t rush,” he said. “Light my cigarette first.” I took the lighter he handed me, my face blank as they burst into laughter. “Look at her! What a dumbass!” someone yelled. “She’s so slow, it’s hilarious!” If it were my sister standing in this room, she’d be drowning in humiliation. But I’m not my sister. I grabbed the bottle of perfume from Wendy’s desk, twisted the cap off, and poured the entire thing into my mouth. The room fell silent, the laughter dying as they stared at me in shock. Smiling, I pulled out Carl’s lighter and flicked it on. Before anyone could react, I sprayed the perfume from my mouth, directing the fiery stream straight at Wendy’s face. The fire roared to life instantly, engulfing her smug expression and that perfectly styled brown hair. The stench of burning protein filled the air as Wendy screamed, flailing wildly, her hair a blazing inferno. She jumped up and down, shouting for someone to put it out. “Need help?” I said sweetly. I grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head into the desk. Bang! Bang! Bang! Each impact was sharper than the last. The flames finally went out, leaving Wendy dazed, her head spinning. She clung to the desk for support, struggling to stay upright. I smiled, grabbing her arm. “Let me help you with that.”

I hooked the handle of the bucket with my foot, grabbed it swiftly with my right hand, and flipped it upside down, slamming it over Wendy’s head. It was quick. Brutal. Neither Wendy nor her lackeys saw it coming. Wendy gasped, choking on the filthy water, gagging as she tried to breathe. Her once-pristine face was already blistering from the burn. She screamed in rage and panic. “What are you idiots waiting for? Kill this b****!” That snapped her crew into action. They all pulled out box cutters from their pockets, ready to charge. Carl was the first to lunge at me, but I sidestepped him with ease. The next second, I was behind him, grinning. “Too slow. Let me show you what speed really looks like.” Grabbing his wrist, I slammed his hand onto the table, pinning it under the stapler. I pounded down on the stapler repeatedly. Click. Click. Click. “AHHH! My hand!” The staples embedded themselves deep into his flesh until the stapler jammed against his bones. Blood oozed out, pooling on the desk. Feigning terror, I threw my hands in the air, shouting, “Please don’t hurt me!” Then I bolted for the door, pretending to run away. The morons thought I was scared and gave chase. I waited behind the door. The moment one of them, the girl with the pockmarked face, poked her head through, I slammed the door shut as hard as I could. BANG! The door smashed into her face, twisting it into a grotesque shape. She staggered, clutching her head, and I kicked her square in the chest, sending her sprawling on the ground like a flipped-over turtle. Carl burst through next, but I darted into the bathroom. “She’s cornered in the girls’ bathroom!” Wendy shrieked. “Block the door! She’s dead meat!” I laughed quietly to myself. They thought they had me trapped. But I wasn’t the one who was cornered. The bathroom door locked behind them. Wendy, still fuming from the burns, inspected her face in a broken mirror. “My face! You’re going to pay for this, you little freak!” She advanced toward me, her fury blinding her to the fact that I was backing away on purpose, luring her closer. She thought I was my sister—weak, helpless. She reached out to grab my shirt, but she didn’t realize that her attack range was also my attack range. I swung my fist like a hammer, smashing it into her face. The blistered skin on her cheek burst open, yellow fluid spilling out. The raw, red flesh underneath glistened in the dim light, and a layer of translucent skin hung loosely from her face. I smiled. Back when we slaughtered pigs for New Year’s, three punches were all I’d need to knock one out cold. But I wasn’t done playing with her yet. Wendy screamed, clutching her face, too scared to touch her wound. I grabbed my phone, threw an arm around her shoulder, and turned the camera on her mangled face. “Say cheese,” I said. “Go to hell!” she spat. “Not happy?” I tilted my head. “That’s disappointing.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “296142”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic #校园School #重生Reborn

My seatmate, who never studied, somehow got a mind-reading system that allowed her to cheat off my thoughts during the SAT. She used it to get into Harvard. Meanwhile, she reported me for cheating on the SAT. My parents and brother even sided with her as witnesses. I refused to admit guilt, but my own brother pushed me off a high-rise building. I died with my eyes wide open in disbelief. When I woke up again, I had returned to one month before the SAT. In the exam room, my seatmate could barely hide her smug expression. But I simply put my head down and took a nap. SAT? What SAT? I don’t need it at all! “Ava, wake up! How can you sleep in class at a time like this?” I was jolted awake by a hard shove. I stared blankly at my impatient seatmate, Lily White. “Are you crazy? The SAT is right around the corner and you’re sleeping in class instead of studying. You’ll have plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead!” Her words were harsh and her expression was mean. In my previous life, I thought she was being strict with me for my own good. I ended up scoring nearly perfect on the SAT and was the undisputed top student. But before the scores were released, Lily reported me for cheating on the SAT. My parents even sided with Lily as witnesses, accusing me of cheating on the exam. All because Lily promised them $500,000. “Don’t be stupid, that’s half a million dollars! With that money we can buy a big house. Your brother will be set for life too.” “I want to study abroad. Besides, it’s just a 3-year ban from taking the SAT again. You’re smart, you can still get into Harvard or Yale in 3 years.” The words from my mother and brother were so unreasonable, I could hardly believe my ears. My father had always seen me as his pride and joy. But that day, he chain-smoked cigarettes before finally nodding in agreement. I couldn’t accept this outcome. I ran out crying to confront Lily. But my brother Tim pushed me off the roof. Before I fell, Lily whispered in my ear: “Ava, aren’t you curious why I reported you for cheating?” “It’s because I have a mind-reading system. During exams, I can hear all the answers in your mind.” “Our test papers were too similar. Of course the cheater had to be you!” I finally understood everything – why she got close to me, helped me, always encouraged me to study hard. It was all for her own benefit. I died full of hatred and resentment. After my death, my parents and brother wasted no time using the $500,000 to buy a big house. They also happily helped Tim contact study abroad agencies. It was as if I had never existed. My SAT scores were invalidated. Lily became the top scorer, with perfect scores in math, physics and chemistry. She was successfully admitted to Harvard. Top SAT scorer, science genius, wealthy family background, stunning beauty… With so many impressive titles, she attracted widespread attention and became America’s sweetheart overnight. My decades of hard work ended up paving the way for her success. But I’m in control of my own fate now. In this new life, I will make Lily pay for everything she’s done!

The last practice test before the real SAT was a statewide mock exam. When I came back to life, the mock exam had just finished. I still scored 1580, ranking first in the state. My homeroom teacher and the academic director were grinning from ear to ear. If the principal hadn’t stopped them, they probably would have started celebrating having a potential SAT perfect scorer. Meanwhile, my seatmate Lily White scored 1570, ranking 10th in the state. While the school was happy to potentially have another Ivy League candidate, they still had major doubts. That’s because Lily had always been at the bottom of the class before, a true slacker. Her sudden leap in scores was very suspicious. So when going over the mock exam in class, Ms. Thompson deliberately called on Lily to answer a question she got right. “Lily, please come up and explain how you solved this problem. Walk us through your thought process.” Lily stood up looking very flustered. In my mind, I silently recited the correct solution and answer. But Ms. Thompson’s expression gradually darkened as Lily still couldn’t explain it. Seeing Lily’s hands clenched nervously together, I felt relieved. It seemed her mind-reading ability only worked during actual exams. In my previous life, I didn’t know about her mind-reading system, so I never noticed these details. This time, I had to figure out exactly how her mind-reading system worked in order to plan my revenge. After testing it multiple times, I finally confirmed that she couldn’t hear my thoughts outside of exams. Just as Ms. Thompson was about to lose her last bit of patience, Lily spoke up: “Ms. Thompson, I got all these questions right. I need to review other topics now, can you stop bothering me?” Her words were so rude that the whole class gasped. Many students gave Lily a thumbs up in admiration. Ms. Thompson tapped the podium to quiet everyone down. Lily grew even more confident under everyone’s admiring gazes. She arrogantly raised her chin and stared straight at Ms. Thompson: “I don’t want to waste my time on these simple questions. It’s a waste of my talents.” Ms. Thompson’s gaze towards Lily was dark and unreadable, filled with extreme disappointment and disgust. This incident made Lily infamous throughout the school. Just like in my previous life, she put zero effort into studying. She was an expert at makeup, gaming, partying – everything except academics. She even led the bullying of hardworking students who couldn’t improve their grades. The worst victim was Fiona. Lily would kick Fiona’s desk when walking by, scattering her things all over the floor. Then she’d cross her arms and mock: “Stupid pig brain, you’ll never get into college no matter how long you study.” Her sycophantic followers would chime in: “That’s right, Lily! Not everyone can be a genius like you and score over 1550 without even studying.” “Yeah, even that Ava girl only beat you by 10 points after studying so hard!” “Hahaha, what a joke…” Standing outside the classroom, I frowned as I listened to them freely mocking Fiona and me. I remembered how Lily bullied Fiona in my past life too, locking her in bathroom stalls and cornering her in dead ends to force her to kneel. I couldn’t stand it and advised Lily to study seriously instead of bullying classmates. She said she was bullying Fiona because Fiona was jealous of my good grades and badmouthed me behind my back. Lily claimed she was just getting revenge for me. Although I didn’t care if Fiona badmouthed me or not, and told Lily many times not to seek revenge for me, I still believed her words. I stopped helping Fiona with her studies. Being ostracized by both the top student and the richest, prettiest girl in class, Fiona’s final days of high school were miserable. She couldn’t perform to her true potential on the SAT either. Guilt washed over me. I walked into the classroom and called Lily to study with me. Lily seemed reluctant, so I smiled slightly and said: “But I can’t focus on studying without you by my side.” Hearing that, she immediately ditched her lackeys and returned to her seat with me. She was waiting to cheat off my answers during the SAT, so of course she wanted me to study as much as possible. She couldn’t let me slack off. After that, I always used the excuse of needing her company to study seriously, leaving her no time to bully Fiona. Seeing me study diligently, she felt at ease playing games under the desk. As soon as school ended, she’d remind me to study hard before running off at lightning speed. After she left, I would lend my study notes to Fiona and use my free time to tutor her, trying to make up for my mistakes in my past life.

In the following practice tests, Lily successfully scored over 1550 each time as she wished. I even deliberately scored lower than her once, letting Lily beat me by a few points. During the exams, I kept thinking to myself: “These questions are so easy, I could probably score 1580 even if I took the test with my eyes closed. If the real SAT is this easy, getting into Harvard or Yale would be a piece of cake.” My thoughts, combined with the shock of her beating me, completely put Lily at ease. She stopped hovering over me and forcing me to study, and gradually stopped coming to school altogether. When our homeroom teacher called to persuade her to come to school, Lily brazenly replied: “I can score better than Ava without even studying. I’m guaranteed to get into Harvard anyway, so you should spend your time worrying about those idiots who can’t even get into community college!” In my past life, she was so afraid I’d slack off that she kept a close eye on me at school every day. Her complete disregard for me now actually made things more convenient for my plans. During her absence from school, Lily started dabbling in social media. This was something that didn’t happen in my memories of my past life. Or maybe it did, and I just didn’t know about it. She created an account portraying the life of a high school senior preparing for the SAT. But instead of actual SAT prep, her videos were all about makeup, fashion, and various forms of entertainment. With marketing funds and a professional team, plus her stunning looks, Lily quickly attracted a large following online. Whenever anyone questioned her, she would show off her high practice test scores and declare that she was sure to be the top scorer and get into Harvard. Some of our classmates even vouched for her online. She became an internet sensation, praised by everyone as a genius girl. I didn’t have a smartphone, so I heard all this from my classmates. I didn’t comment on any of it, just kept my head down and focused on my own studies. Although I deliberately let Lily hear my arrogant thoughts during exams, in reality I felt very uncertain. I had no way to block her from eavesdropping on my mind, but I firmly believed that in the face of true ability, all schemes and tricks were paper tigers. So I studied even harder than in my past life. I arrived at school before dawn every day, and stayed late after evening self-study sessions to continue studying in the classroom. Many classmates were motivated by me and voluntarily stayed behind to study as well. I generously tutored them and explained difficult concepts and problems. Finally, a week before the SAT, I received a message from Ms. Thompson. The moment Ms. Thompson nodded, I felt the weight on my shoulders instantly disappear. I had perfect scores in math, physics and chemistry on the practice tests. Yale’s admissions office opened a special admission channel for me – as long as I passed their test, I would be admitted with a full scholarship. In both lives, Yale only opened this channel for me, not for Lily who ranked second. That’s why Lily resented Yale and was determined to choose Harvard as the top scorer, to make Yale regret it. But in my past life, my goal was Harvard, so I flatly rejected Yale’s offer. This time, I had to find a way to avoid taking the SAT. It was too late to prepare for academic competitions. Yale’s olive branch was my only and best way out. I asked Ms. Thompson to keep it confidential, so no one else knew about this even after I received Yale’s early admission notice. Ms. Thompson still hoped I would take the SAT. Even with early admission, the prestige of being the top SAT scorer would obviously benefit both me and the school. I apologized and explained that I would take the SAT, but definitely wouldn’t get the top score. Ms. Thompson couldn’t understand why, but seeing that I refused to explain further, she didn’t press the issue: “You’re a good kid. You’ve always known what you want. I respect your decision.” Looking at Ms. Thompson’s reassuring and encouraging gaze, I felt a lump in my throat and almost burst into tears. In both lives, Ms. Thompson was the only person besides Lily who ever showed me warmth. My mom favored my brother, my dad was silent and aloof, and my brother only reached out to ask for my scholarship money after each exam. My family was always a source of neglect and obstacles on my academic journey. When I lacked food and clothes, it was Ms. Thompson who always helped me. In my past life, the news of my cheating and suicide was suppressed by Lily’s family. Apart from people at school, not many in society knew about it. Ms. Thompson never believed I would cheat or commit suicide. Plus, Ms. Thompson had doubts about Lily’s scores to begin with, so she suspected Lily had stolen my scores. After my death, Ms. Thompson repeatedly approached my parents and Lily, trying to clear my name. In this life, no matter what, I can’t let Ms. Thompson’s trust and care down again! 3 Three days before the SAT, the school gave us time off. I didn’t go home, but stayed in the school dorm. No one at home asked about me either. I was happy to have some peace and quiet. On the last day, I received a call from Lily: “Ava, how’s your SAT prep going?” She used to affectionately call me “Ava-bear”, but now she couldn’t even be bothered to keep up appearances. “Mm, getting into Yale won’t be a problem.” “That’s good. Soon we’ll be at Yale and Harvard, still besties!” She laughed arrogantly and carefreely. I put down my old flip phone and smirked coldly: Too bad, in this life, you won’t get what you want. The SAT finally arrived. I wasn’t as nervous and excited as I was in my past life. Seeing Lily in the same exam room as me, I didn’t show any surprise. I was so calm that it made Lily inexplicably anxious, her eyelids twitching. But she was still confident, her eyes full of calculation and certainty. Until the English test paper was handed out. I didn’t even glance at the contents before putting my head down to sleep. Lily panicked. Determined not to let her hear even a bit of my answers, I had taken drowsy cold medicine beforehand. I slept heavily, unaware that Lily was staring daggers at my back, as if trying to bore a hole through me with her gaze. She sat on pins and needles, constantly looking around, and was warned by the proctor several times for tapping on her desk. As time ticked away, she raised her hand to report me to the proctor for sleeping and disturbing her. The proctor woke me up. I sat up straight but kept my eyes closed to rest. Lily was at a loss for what to do and had no choice but to start answering the questions herself. Her grades were poor to begin with, and she had been living it up lately. She couldn’t even recognize many of the words in the passages. After the English test, Lily cornered me in the dorm when I was about to take a nap. She was furious: “Did your mom die last night or something? Were you out selling yourself?” I widened my eyes and asked in confusion: “Lily, what’s wrong? I have a cold and took some medicine. I got drowsy so I just…” Her face contorted in rage as she lunged at me like a madwoman: “You bitch! If you love sleeping so much why don’t you go be a hooker and sleep all you want!” I grabbed her hand as she tried to slap me and shoved her hard, pushing her out of the dorm room. I was used to heavy labor and much stronger than her. She fell straight to the ground. “We still have tests this afternoon. If you keep acting crazy I’m going to call a teacher.” Before she could react, I closed the dorm room door, ignoring her pounding and yelling outside. The dorm students had all gone home, so I didn’t have to worry about her disturbing anyone else. I attended the remaining three tests normally, and she took them as usual too. To my surprise, she no longer looked at me and instead focused intently on answering the questions. I glanced at a few questions and thought of the answers in my mind, but she had no reaction. I guessed she must have done something to no longer hear my thoughts. If I took the remaining three tests seriously, I could probably still get a decent score. But I didn’t dare risk her possibly still being able to hear my thoughts. For the last three tests, I still turned in blank papers.

After the exams, I went back to the dorm to pack up and called my parents. That’s when I found out my brother was on break for the SAT and my parents had taken him on a trip. I didn’t have a key to the house. The background noise on the phone was very loud. My mom’s booming voice made me instinctively hold the old flip phone further from my ear. “Just keep staying in the dorm until we get back! We paid for it, it’s not like you have to sleep on the street.” “The dorm is closing today. Everyone has to move out,” I explained. “Then figure something out yourself. You’re done with high school now, stop relying on your parents for everything. Be more considerate!” I didn’t have much stuff. Apart from the books and notes I had lent out, I only had a few changes of clothes and some daily necessities. With just a backpack’s worth of belongings, I found a job as a waitress at a hot pot restaurant. The pay was good and it included room and board. When the manager asked me to join the work group chat, I took out a battered old flip phone and sheepishly said I didn’t have social media. I didn’t even have money for a hotel room, let alone a smartphone. The manager found an 80% new second-hand phone for me, telling me to buy a new one after I got my first paycheck. I registered for social media and added Ms. Thompson as a friend. She immediately added me to the class group chat. That night, lying on the bed in the staff dorm, I finally started exploring the smartphone. It was my first time using a smartphone and I found it quite fascinating. They were discussing plans for a class dinner, chatting enthusiastically. Until Fiona asked how I did on the SAT. The group went quiet for a moment, then classmates started tagging me: “@Ava Chen Bet our top scorer got a 1580 or 1590 huh?” “@Ava Chen Have you decided on Harvard or Yale yet, Ms. Perfect Score?” “@Ava Chen Don’t forget us little people when you’re rich and famous, genius!” Before I could reply, Lily’s message made the group go silent again: “Stop kissing up to her. She didn’t even score as well as you guys! You’ll at least get into community college, but she can only work in a factory now.” A flood of question marks appeared. “I was in the same exam room as her. She slept through all four tests. If you don’t believe me, ask her yourself.” When I firmly rejected Yale’s offer before, no one thought Yale would still keep the early admission spot open for me. So when I said I was going to Yale, another wave of question marks flooded the chat. After this little drama, no one in the group actively mentioned me again. They started fawning over Lily, asking about her SAT experience or complimenting her graduation trip photos. Only Fiona sent me a friend request and comforted me, saying I would definitely get the top score if I retook the SAT next year. I smiled warmly and wished her good results too. Lily was very confident about her SAT scores. She even promised to treat the whole class to her college acceptance celebration dinner. I knew she must have found other ways to cheat. I didn’t care about her scores. I just prayed there wouldn’t be another poor victim of her schemes. Working at the hot pot restaurant was exhausting. Business was booming during summer break. By the time we got off work it was already the early hours of the morning, and my arms and legs were sore. But I was never afraid of hard work. After getting my first month’s salary, I transferred $150 to the manager based on the market price of the second-hand phone. The manager was surprised I didn’t choose to buy a new phone. I said: “This phone still works great. I don’t play games so I don’t need high specs. This one is perfect.” The manager took the money without comment. The next day at work, he brought me a cup of milk tea. It was a fragrant and rich jasmine milk tea. It was my first time trying it and I found it delicious.

On the day the SAT scores were released, I went back home. My dad was nervously guarding the phone, ready to call relatives and friends as soon as the scores came out. The sound of characters being killed came from my brother Tim’s phone. He glanced at me and asked in a seemingly casual tone: “I heard the top SAT scorers and Ivy League admits get awarded tens of thousands of dollars, right?” My mom’s eyes instantly lit up: “Really? Tens of thousands?” My mom had never cared about my excellent grades before. In her eyes, no matter what I did, I was never good enough. She thought it would be better for me to get married early and earn some dowry money for Tim to use. Hearing Tim mention the prize money, my mom’s eyes suddenly blazed with greed. “My good daughter, look what mom bought you as a gift from our trip! Don’t you love it?” A sun hat with a sweat-stained brim was forcefully shoved into my hands. My mom smiled eagerly, unable to hide the avarice in her eyes: “You see how bad your brother’s grades are. Your dad and I are thinking of sending him to study abroad.” “Once your brother makes it big, you’ll have someone to rely on even after you get married…” Listening to her made me nauseous. In my past life at this time, they had already taken Lily’s money, bought a big house, and found a study abroad agency for Tim. They didn’t care about me at all. Now that they knew there was prize money, they started sucking up to me again. I hid the disgust in my eyes and calmly looked straight at my mom: “I got sick during the SAT week. I didn’t take the tests.” “What?!” My mom leapt up from the sofa, shrieking: “You’re saying you didn’t take the tests?!” Tim also looked up in shock. My dad was much calmer: “Ava, stop joking around. Don’t upset your mother.” Hearing that, my mom and Tim also thought I was just kidding. My mom put on a smile again to coax me. Tim gave me a disdainful look before going back to his game. But as more and more congratulatory calls came in from relatives and friends, while my score inquiry still showed 0 points, they finally couldn’t sit still. “I really didn’t take the tests. You can call my teacher to confirm.” My mom’s reaction was direct – she started cursing me viciously: “You little slut, I knew you were nothing but trouble. I should have drowned you in a bucket when you were born!” “Take the damn test or don’t, don’t expect me to pay for you to retake it.” “It’s just as well you’re not going to college. We can use your dowry to send your brother abroad.” Whether it was being the top scorer or getting married, it was all about getting tens of thousands of dollars to my mom and brother. So they weren’t in a rush anymore. But my dad was furious. His lips were trembling and he pointed at me, unable to speak for a long time. He looked like he was about to have a stroke. My mom had always wanted to marry me off for a dowry. It was my dad who kept stopping her. He said I was his pride and joy, and told me to study hard and get into a good college. I thought at least he loved me. For his praise and encouragement, I studied like crazy. Seeing him always being scolded by my mom, I would rather go hungry than ask him for money. But after I died, he kept a study for himself, pretending to practice calligraphy and read newspapers in there every day. I realized then that he thought he could have gotten into Harvard or Yale himself, if only the family hadn’t been too poor to support him. He was arrogant and felt his talents were wasted. He wanted to live out his dreams through me. On the other hand, as the top scorer I could fetch an even higher dowry price, maybe even marry into a rich family. He was dreaming of money, fame and status. Whether I lived or died didn’t matter to him at all. The viciousness in his eyes made me have no doubt he would beat me to death the next moment. I took out my Yale early admission letter and said I had already been admitted. My dad gradually calmed down. “The school will award $10,000, and the county will give $30,000.” “But I’m keeping this money for myself. I’ll need it for college.” My dad was grinning from ear to ear as he caressed the admission letter, but stopped smiling when he heard I wanted to keep the money. “Then don’t go to college. With this $40,000, plus asking for a few tens of thousands more in dowry, it’ll be enough for your brother to study abroad and even get married.” I smirked coldly. He would never let me skip college for the sake of his grand dreams. He was just threatening me. “It’s your choice – the money or me. You decide!” My mom sneered: “You think you can disown your own parents?” I ignored her and only looked at my dad: “If you want the money, we’ll terminate our parent-child relationship.” I knew only my dad had the final say in this matter. “If you want me, you won’t get a penny of this money. But I’ll support you in your old age in the future.” My dad knew which option was clearly more beneficial. The value of a Yale student would definitely exceed $40,000 in the long run. But he was more reluctant to give up the $40,000 right in front of him. He also didn’t believe I would really abandon them in the future. He was confident that by showing me some small favors later on, he could make me continue to be their cash cow. I was grateful for his confidence as I signed the papers terminating our parent-child relationship. I successfully got my household registration transferred out. I packed my things and left that same night. My dad held his favorite thermos, smiling at me: “Ava, come back for dinner sometime. I’ll have your mom make your favorite beef and potato stew.” I replied flatly: “I’m allergic to beef.”

With my wages from the hot pot restaurant and money borrowed from Ms. Thompson, I had enough to leave home and go straight to New Haven. There are more opportunities in big cities. With my Yale early admission letter, I quickly found several tutoring jobs. I rented a basement apartment and spent my days rushing between different students’ homes. It was tiring but fulfilling. After the news of my early admission was posted, my classmates started tagging me in the group chat again. I was too busy to deal with it so I just left the group. Fiona asked if I was willing to listen before telling me news about Lily. Lily scored just over 1000 on the SAT, barely above the cutoff for 4-year colleges. At first some people mocked her a bit. But she shot back directly: “So what? I have plenty of money. You poor losers will all be working for me in the future anyway!” The people mocking her immediately shut up sheepishly. But her social media account was reported and banned for having a negative influence. Many people online cursed at her, which also impacted her family’s business. But overall it didn’t really shake her wealthy and privileged position. I was far away in New Haven, only able to suppress the hatred in my heart. If I couldn’t get revenge, I would be satisfied just staying far away and living my own life well. My college life was very fulfilling. I studied hard in class and actively participated in various activities outside of class. I won all the scholarships. With enough money and some savings, I didn’t focus too much on earning money. Instead, I was like a sponge, desperately absorbing knowledge and broadening my horizons. In my sophomore year, I went on a year and a half exchange program abroad. During this time my parents couldn’t contact me, and they couldn’t find me when they came to the school either. They knew nothing about me going abroad and returning, so I didn’t see them again until after I graduated college. Just as I was deciding to pursue a master’s degree at the end of my junior year, my head suddenly hurt. Then I heard a mechanical voice: “Ding! Congratulations player, you have the opportunity to bind an exam mind-reading system. Would you like to bind it?” “No.” “Please choose again whether to bind the system.” “No.” “…Dear, our system can let you hear anyone’s thoughts during any exam, allowing you to breeze through all of life’s tests with ease. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?” I smirked coldly: “You’re Lily’s system, aren’t you?” “…Yes. She was too stupid so I unilaterally terminated our contract.” “Then answer a few questions for me, and I’ll consider binding with you.” “Okay, dear.” “What do you mean by hearing anyone’s thoughts?” “Dear, it means you can lock onto one person to hear their thoughts during each exam.” “So Lily switched to locking onto someone else?” “Yes.” “Did she report that person for cheating too?” “…That person had powerful connections. She tried to report them but ended up in a miserable situation herself.” “What’s Lily’s situation now?” “She’s not doing too well, but she thinks she’s quite happy.” “Okay, I’ve considered it. Not binding.” “…” The system was on the verge of tears, but I just laughed coldly: “Do you think I need you? There must be a price to pay for eavesdropping on others’ thoughts, right? Why should I pay a price to do something I can already accomplish on my own?” “Do you think I’m stupid too?” Even now, I still believe that in the face of true ability, all schemes and tricks are paper tigers. I do my own work well and don’t rely on external forces to plagiarize others’ achievements or seize others’ opportunities. This is my principle and what I’ve always insisted on doing.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “296141”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic #校园School #重生Reborn

I’ve been Alexander Sullivan’s blood source for twenty years. Just because my blood was special, I was adopted by the Sullivan family to be their blood slave. To ensure a daily supply of blood, the Sullivans went as far as implanting a curse in my body. This curse not only produced blood but also controlled one’s desires. The sixth time I uncontrollably approached Alexander due to the curse’s poison, begging him to help me neutralize it, He cruelly threw me into the swimming pool. But what Alexander didn’t know was— From that day on, I found a new person to neutralize the poison. I struggled to open my eyes, only to find myself surrounded by darkness. As I tried to sit up, I realized my hands and feet were tightly bound. Looking down at my wrists, I saw they were covered in countless needle marks – scars left from years of blood extraction. They looked like ugly centipedes crawling across my skin. Footsteps from outside broke the silence of the basement. The butler walked in expressionlessly, carrying a tray. He approached me and said coldly, “Miss Aria, it’s time for your blood extraction.” His voice was devoid of any emotion, as if he was merely carrying out a routine task. I looked at him fearfully, my body trembling uncontrollably. The bright red blood flowed slowly through the transparent tube into a glass bottle. This routine of being locked in the basement and having my blood regularly drawn had been going on for ten long years. Ten years ago, after my parents died in an accident, I was adopted by the wealthy Sullivan family. At the time, I naively thought I had found salvation, not knowing this was just the beginning of a nightmare. My blood was rare and special – the ideal source for Alexander Sullivan, the young master of the family who suffered from a terminal illness. The Sullivans adopted me only to use me as a tool to sustain Alexander’s life. Due to the need for daily blood supply, the Sullivans even went so far as to plant a curse in my body. This curse accelerated blood production in my body, but also turned me into a complete puppet. I could see no hope, no way out. As my blood was continuously drained, I heard familiar footsteps approaching in my dazed state. Alexander had arrived. He walked to the bedside, bent down, and gently stroked my head. “How are you feeling today?” “Young Master Sullivan, how do you think I should feel?” I weakly questioned him, my tone filled with undisguised anger and sarcasm. “Being kept like livestock, having my blood drawn every day, should I be grateful to you?” “The Sullivan family feeds and clothes you well, of course you should be grateful,” he replied. “After all, no master likes a dog that bites.” Perhaps because we had repeated this conversation too many times, Alexander seemed unfazed by my attitude. He took a bowl of soup from the butler, held my chin, and forced me to drink it spoonful by spoonful. With most of my blood drained and then being forced to drink that bitter medicine, my body grew increasingly weak. I had no strength left to struggle and could only let Alexander hold me. As my consciousness began to fade, I felt my entire body burning up, as if a fire was raging inside me. I couldn’t help but start writhing, trying to ease the unbearable pain. “So hot… it hurts…” I could feel the curse in my body greedily consuming what little blood I had left. I moaned in agony, unconsciously pressing closer to Alexander, trying to draw some coolness from his body to ease the heat inside me. Alexander seemed startled by my actions and frowned in disgust. He roughly pulled me away from him and threw me to the ground like a rag doll. “Don’t touch me!” But if the curse wasn’t dealt with, the consequences would be unthinkable. I crawled to his feet, clutching at his pants leg, begging, “Young Master… please… save me…” “If you can’t stand it, go cool off!” Alexander roared, throwing me aside. He stood up and dragged me to the edge of the swimming pool. The next second, I was mercilessly pushed into the water.

The ice-cold pool water instantly submerged me. I instinctively struggled but my limbs were too weak, and my body began to sink. There was no one left by the pool’s edge – Alexander had left. As the air in my lungs was slowly depleted, the specter of death loomed over me. Just when I was about to give up hope, I saw a blurry figure swimming towards me. I couldn’t make out his face clearly, but I desperately reached out to him. He quickly approached, pulled me into his arms, and swam powerfully towards the surface. The moment I could breathe air again, I felt as if I had been reborn. The man’s strong arms supported me. I instinctively held onto him tightly, my body shaking uncontrollably from the cold and weakness. But strangely, as our skin touched, the curse that had been raging inside me gradually calmed down. “Are you okay? Do you feel unwell anywhere?” he asked. I shook my head. After we got out of the pool, perhaps realizing that my condition was not just a typical reaction to near-drowning, the man waited while I went to the bathroom by the pool to clean up. I changed into dry clothes and opened the door to find that the man who had just saved me was still standing guard outside. He had somehow changed into dry clothes as well. He was a stranger, but handsome and gentle, looking at me with eyes full of concern. “You…” He was about to ask something when urgent footsteps were heard from outside. “Damn it, where is she?” The newcomer’s voice was urgent and tinged with anger. It was Alexander! I instinctively felt a wave of fear, and my body began to shake more violently. Why did he come back? Was he here to confirm if I was dead? The man seemed to sense the fear in my expression and immediately pulled me back into the bathroom. “Stay here and don’t move. No matter what happens, don’t make a sound,” he whispered, then left the bathroom and closed the door. He turned the corner and met Alexander, who was hurrying over. “Lucas, what are you doing here?” Alexander looked surprised to see Lucas. “You should ask Mrs. Wang about that. I left my car keys here yesterday, and she said she couldn’t remember where she put them,” Lucas said, spreading his hands to reveal the red sports car key in his palm. “She mentioned a few places, and since she’s getting on in years, I didn’t want her running around, so I came to look myself.” Hearing this, Alexander seemed to relax a bit, though his eyes swept over the swimming pool. “By the way, did you see anyone just now? I thought I saw a figure coming this way.” Lucas’s face still wore a faint smile: “No, I just came out and saw only you wandering around here.” “…Maybe I was mistaken then.” Alexander narrowed his eyes, as if trying to see if Lucas was lying. But after careful consideration, he realized that Lucas and I were not acquainted, and Lucas had no reason to lie for me. The two men stared at each other for a moment. Alexander suddenly smiled and patted Lucas on the shoulder, saying, “Alright, now that you’ve found it, head back soon. In the future, just let the housekeeper handle these small matters. No need to trouble Dr. Carter to come all the way here after a night shift.” “I have some business to attend to, so I’ll be going now.” With that, he left the pool area with his men. Hearing Alexander leave, I finally let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto the floor.

Imagining what Alexander would do when he couldn’t find me, my body couldn’t stop shaking. The changing room door was gently pushed open, and Lucas walked in. “Are you alright?” he asked. I gave a faint “mm” in response, tidying my clothes as I stood up. “Thank you… for today,” I said. “It’s nothing, I would have saved anyone I saw drowning,” the man replied. He seemed to have a belly full of questions he wanted to ask, but after hesitating for a moment, he only added, “I’m Alexander’s friend. You can call me Lucas.” “I haven’t seen you at the Sullivan house before… you’re his friend?” I asked. As I finished the last two words, I inwardly mocked myself for a moment. Of course, a playboy like Alexander would have friends from all walks of life. If Lucas were really his friend, he would surely know me. He probably thought I was one of Alexander’s kept women. But a kept woman is docile and vibrant. I was just what the Sullivan servants called “the blood slave in the basement.” Not knowing how to respond, I could only lower my head and stare at the ground awkwardly. In the end, it was Lucas who broke the silence. “I won’t tell Alexander about what happened today,” he said. “You fell into the water and caught a chill. It would be better if you took some medicine when you get back.” He turned to leave, but suddenly, a strange idea welled up from the bottom of my heart. As if possessed, I grabbed the hem of his clothes. “Mr. Carter, could you… help me with my illness?” When I returned to the basement, Alexander was sitting on the sofa in my bedroom. Seeing me return, he put down his wine glass. “Where have you been?” he asked, his tone calm and emotionless. “I… I felt out of breath after climbing out of the water, so I went for a walk in the garden,” I replied. Alexander’s gaze was piercing, as if trying to see through me. “Is that so?” He slowly walked up to me, his tone low and dangerous. “The garden is windy. With your weak body, you should be careful not to catch a cold.” “I… I understand,” I said, lowering my head, not daring to meet his eyes. “Don’t wander around at night in the future. I’ll worry about you.” Alexander reached out his hand, gently stroking my cheek. But I trembled violently all over. It was happening again. Every so often, Alexander would use this method to check on the curse inside me. Only after confirming there was no problem would he let me leave. I endured the pain of the curse resonating with its master, forcing out an obedient smile. “I… I understand. It won’t happen again.” Sure enough, after feeling for a while and finding nothing unusual, he smiled with satisfaction. He pulled me into his arms, stroking my hair. I stood there stiffly, letting him hold me. My mind unconsciously recalled how Lucas had held me in the water. Under his wet shirt, his muscles were clearly defined and powerful. He was… handsome. “Today, why didn’t you beg me for help?” Alexander suddenly spoke, interrupting my thoughts. Coming back to my senses, I replied flatly, “I could endure it.” Alexander was momentarily at a loss for words, as if wanting to explain something, but in the end, he didn’t. After a moment of silence, he only added, “That’s good. You should understand, I don’t do that to you because I’m being responsible for you.” I nodded slightly. He seemed to have forgotten that the reason I reacted that way was not because of my own desires. It was because of the curse, which made me completely lose control. The reason I became like this, who was to blame after all?

The first time I saw Alexander was a week after I was brought to the Sullivan house. That pale, sickly boy lying in bed. The painful source of the curse planted in my body, the one who needed my blood. At that time, young as I was, I was locked in the basement, never seeing the light of day. Yet Alexander’s condition improved day by day after my arrival. He began to get out of bed, to move freely around the Sullivan house. Due to frequent blood transfusions, Alexander would even take me along when he went to school. The children at the prestigious school were mostly arrogant, knowing even at a young age the most direct way to humiliate others. On my first day stepping into the classroom, I felt the malice from those around me. “Well, well, where did this country bumpkin come from? How dare she attend school with us?” “Don’t you know? She’s Young Master Sullivan’s personal blood bank. In other words, she’s just a high-class blood slave!” “Disgusting. Who knows if her blood is clean? Hope she doesn’t infect Young Master Sullivan with some dirty disease!” I tried hard to ignore them, finding a corner to sit down. But they wouldn’t leave me alone. Several of them deliberately tripped me, throwing my backpack hard on the ground. “Oh, sorry, sorry, didn’t see you there. Are you okay? Young Master Sullivan’s blood slave, it wouldn’t be good if you got hurt.” I lay on the ground, reaching for my books. A pair of shoes stopped beside me. In an instant, the shoes stepped over my face. Alexander nonchalantly found a seat and sat down. He watched coldly as they emptied my backpack and tore everything inside to pieces. The piercing laughter was like needles stabbing into my heart. “Alright, that’s enough,” Alexander finally spoke up. His tone held no trace of protection, but rather a hint of indulgence. “She’s weak, she can’t take your teasing.” Alexander’s words, far from stopping their mockery, only made them more unrestrained. “Young Master Sullivan is so kind, even treating a dog so well.” “Of course, after all, it’s a dog he needs to suck blood from every day. It needs to be kept well. If it dies, where would Young Master Sullivan get his blood from!” Alexander laughed freely, but it made my heart freeze to the bone. Tears fell uncontrollably. “What are you crying for? If you can’t even bear this little bit of grievance, how will you serve me in the future?” Alexander spoke to me. “I… I just feel wronged,” I sobbed. “Wronged? What do you have to feel wronged about? The Sullivan family feeds and clothes you well, lets you live a life of luxury. What more do you want?” His tone was impatient. “I… I just want a little respect,” I said. “Respect? You think you deserve that?” Alexander sneered. “Is what they’re saying wrong? You’re nothing but a dog raised by the Sullivan family, a dog kept to keep me alive. What right do you have to talk to me about respect?” At that moment, I finally understood. In Alexander’s heart, I would forever be just a lowly, inferior blood slave. A tool that anyone could trample on at will. But now I was dependent on the Sullivan family with nowhere to escape, unable to resist. I became even more cautious, silently swallowing those taunts and malice. In front of Alexander, I tried my best to appear more submissive and obedient. He seemed to enjoy it, and when no one else was around, he would be very kind to me again. He would bring me some food, or some interesting books. And he also knew well what damage the curse had done to me in my childhood. Every time the curse acted up, I would be tortured by excruciating pain, rolling on the ground. I even thought about ending my own life through self-harm. Alexander would grab me, hold me, letting me struggle madly until I gradually calmed down. This continued for a full twenty years. And the side effects of the curse became more uncontrollable after I reached adulthood.

That day, after an episode, I really couldn’t bear it anymore. Regardless of dignity or rules, I just wanted to live. I rushed to Alexander’s room. “Mr. Sullivan, I feel so awful. Can you please save me…” But I came at the wrong time. Alexander’s face, which had been laughing and chatting with a woman, turned ashen when he saw me. The woman’s eyes darted between us, and she laughed. “Alexander, I don’t mind you keeping someone on the side.” “Now that we’re engaged, I just hope your little pet doesn’t appear in front of me.” “She’s just a dog that can’t leave its master,” Alexander said coldly. “The curse is acting up again, she can’t live without me.” “How pitiful. Alexander, aren’t you too kind to her? Can’t you just find someone to take care of her needs?” Alexander lifted my chin, his eyes cold and his tone contemptuous. “You want me to help you? Fine.” “Get down on your knees and beg me like a dog, and I’ll consider it.” I bit my teeth in humiliation, my body trembling uncontrollably from the pain. “Alexander, don’t be like that. She looks so pitiful,” the woman said with a smile. “Why don’t you just help her? After all, this kind of woman, it’s no big deal to play with her a bit.” Alexander burst into laughter, grabbing Sophia’s waist and saying in a frivolous tone, “Sophia is right, it’s no big deal to play a bit. Aria, did you hear that?” “As long as you make Sophia happy, I’ll agree to help you.” Sophia smiled contemptuously: “How about this, crawl from here to the door, bark three times like a dog, and I’ll consider letting Alexander help you.” I bit my lip hard, my nails digging deep into my flesh. But I knew I had no choice. To survive, I could only do as they said. Trembling, I knelt on the ground and crawled forward step by step. By the time I reached the door, I had used up all my strength and didn’t even have the energy to open my mouth. In my last memory before fainting, I saw Alexander walking towards me. His face was cold as he grabbed me and threw me out the door. “Get lost,” he said. The door slammed shut, and the woman’s laughter could be heard from inside.

Since that night when Lucas saved me at the swimming pool, I started seeing him more often. He always appeared when I least expected it – in the garden of the Sullivan mansion, on the small path leading to the backyard, or even in the studio where I was occasionally allowed to move freely. In those brief moments when I could catch my breath, he seemed to be able to find me. Every time he saw me, he would first inquire about my health condition with concern. Then he would secretly slip me some herbs and nutritional supplements he had prepared. He told me that the curse Alexander had planted in me was not unsolvable; it could be controlled and even removed. He searched everywhere for methods, trying various approaches with me. Although there wasn’t much progress in the short term, and I still felt feverish and uncontrollably drawn to others during episodes, the medicine Lucas brought did alleviate my pain considerably. Taking advantage of Alexander’s business trip, Lucas started visiting my room more frequently. We talked about everything from my condition to casual chit-chat. He told me how wonderful the outside world was. He said I shouldn’t be trapped here, that I should live the life I want. He said, “Aria, I can help you escape from here.” His words made my heart race uncontrollably. But could I really break free from Alexander’s control? The long imprisonment had worn down my edges and made me timid and cowardly. Even if I did escape from here, where would I go?

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0 It was late at night, and I had just put my daughter to sleep. I was leaning against the headboard, scrolling through my phone when a news alert popped up. “On February 17th at 9 PM, Jason Stewart, CEO of Zenith Corp, was involved in a car accident in Los Angeles. He has been rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment. Sources say Jason suffered severe head trauma and is currently in a coma. Stay tuned for updates…” The accompanying image showed a nearly totaled Bugatti Chiron. Jason was being lifted onto a stretcher, his head covered in blood, eyes closed, brows furrowed even in unconsciousness. I felt a sudden wave of disorientation. It had been three years since I’d last seen him. Those memories of intimate moments, of heartbreaking pain – things I once thought I’d never forget – now felt like a lifetime ago, blurred by the passage of just a thousand days and nights. I lowered my gaze, about to put down my phone and go to sleep, when suddenly there was a violent knocking at the door! Worried the noise would wake Emma, I quickly slipped on my slippers and went to the living room. But when I looked through the peephole, I froze. Jason stood there, his head still wrapped in bandages that were starting to bleed through. His face was contorted with frustration. “Jane, open up!” he shouted. “I know you’re in there, I asked the doorman!” I was at a loss, my mind a jumble as I opened the door. “Weren’t you just in a car accident a few days ago? How did you-” Jason barged in as if he owned the place, barely sparing a glance at the men’s slippers by the door. “It’s freezing out there,” he complained, tossing his coat at me. “Why the hell are you living in this dump? What happened to that villa I bought you?” I was stunned by his familiar tone, momentarily at a loss for words. When we broke up three years ago, it had been ugly. Jason’s face had been so dark with anger, I thought he might actually kill me. He had said: “Jane, you and your new boy toy better stay the hell away from me.” “Or I can’t guarantee his safety.” Now he was acting as if nothing had happened, casually dropping onto the sofa and patting his thigh, raising an eyebrow at me: “Come here.” The dim lamplight cast shadows across his face, his eyes still holding that sharp, slightly cruel glint I remembered. But with his handsome features, that cruelty became a kind of rebellious charm. I took a step back, frowning. “What are you doing here? We broke up, remember?” Jason scoffed. “Oh please, I know you too well.” “You’ve probably been crying at home these past few days, haven’t you?” “Come on,” he beckoned impatiently. “So I went to the hospital with Olivia, big deal. Do you have to be so petty about it?” When I still didn’t approach, Jason stood up with a sigh and pulled me close, placing his hand on my stomach with unexpected gentleness. “I get it, you’re pregnant so your emotions are all over the place, right?” “If you really want this baby so badly, then let’s keep it. I’ve even picked out names – if it’s a boy, we’ll call him James. If it’s a girl-” I finally realized what was wrong. The Jason in front of me was talking about events from three years ago. I grabbed his wrist, my voice catching in my throat. “Jason, did you lose your memory?” He paused, then shrugged it off. “They all keep saying I hit my head and lost my memory. What a load of crap. My mind’s a bit fuzzy, but it’s no big deal. Nothing important anyway. You can fill me in on the details.” He pulled me close, tilting his head back to look at me with eyes full of love, as if we had never been apart these past three years. I pushed him away, struggling to keep my voice steady. “Jason, we broke up. I-” He quickly cut me off, the warmth vanishing from his smile. “Jane, that’s enough.” “You really expect me to believe that?” His thin lips curled into an arrogant smirk. “After all these years by my side, if you wanted to leave, you would’ve done it long ago.” “You can’t live without me.” Just then, the sound of a doorknob turning came from the hallway. I shoved Jason away hard. My daughter came out rubbing her eyes, clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit. “Mommy.” She frowned at Jason. “Who’s that?” 0

My breakup with Jason had been far from amicable. I was Jason’s childhood friend. His parents had taken me in when we were kids, basically giving him a playmate. From day one, everyone told me I had to look after Jason, to take care of him. I was three years older than Jason, so I naturally fell into a big sister role. Jason was spoiled rotten as a child, with a nasty temper. When I first arrived, he often tormented me. He’d put snakes in my bed, gather his friends to mock my background, drag me out of bed in the middle of the night to snarl at me: “Jane, don’t you dare think you’re really my sister.” “You’re just a stray dog my family took in, got it?” I knew I had no right to argue with Jason. The truth was, I was grateful to Jason’s parents. They had taken me out of foster care. If not for them, I probably would have ended up trafficked by my crooked caseworker. But kids’ tempers come and go quickly. Under my constant care, Jason soon softened. He became affectionate towards me, not letting others bully me. When he couldn’t sleep, he’d come to my room. He started calling me “sis”. I always thought I’d play the role of his sister forever. Until Jason fell in love at 19. With Olivia. The Stewarts and Olivia’s family were equally wealthy. Like Jason, Olivia was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She was a dazzling, beautiful girl who became the campus sweetheart in her freshman year, catching Jason’s eye. They naturally got together, but both being spoiled, Jason and Olivia had explosive tempers. They fought often. During one of their fights, to make Olivia jealous, Jason kissed me right in front of her. Our relationship changed irrevocably in that moment. Jason and Olivia quickly made up, but Jason never explained that kiss to me. We both tacitly agreed to never mention it again, but we both knew we could never go back to how things were before. Jason and Olivia were together for three years before finally breaking up after a big fight. Heartbroken, Olivia left the country. And Jason, in a drunken stupor one night, crawled into my bed. I still remember that chaotic night. His breath heavy with alcohol as he nuzzled my neck, pinning my hands above my head: “Don’t reject me,” he slurred, his actions forceful but his voice pleading. “Don’t reject me.” I lay frozen, finally managing to ask in a trembling voice: “Jason, do you know who I am?” He answered with a kiss. Much later, when I was nearly asleep, I vaguely heard him sigh in my ear. “You’re Jane.” … And just like that, we were together. No confession, no ceremony, not even a word of affection exchanged. I still played the role of his caretaker, looking after Jason’s daily needs. He was just more intimate with me now. We’d walk on the beach at sunset, cuddle up to watch movies in the dark of night, hold each other close as thunder rumbled outside. For a while, I felt truly happy. I’m not sure when I fell in love with him, but I knew I did. So when Olivia came back looking for Jason, I endured it. When he stood me up on my birthday to have dinner with her, I endured that too. I loved Jason. I knew he still had a lot of growing up to do, so I was willing to give him chances to make mistakes and correct them. Until I found out I was pregnant. I sent Jason the test results. It took him a long time to call me back. His voice sounded distorted over the phone, irritated: “Jane, I don’t want a kid right now.” “I’m not ready to be a father, I still want to have fun. Don’t keep it.” Half an hour later, a friend doing her residency at the hospital sent me a photo. It was Jason and Olivia. He was supporting her carefully, his movements as gentle as if handling a priceless treasure. My friend sent a voice message: “Why is Jason here at the OB-GYN with some other girl? She looks pregnant. Who is she?” That’s when I understood. It wasn’t that Jason didn’t want children. He just didn’t want my child. From the very beginning, he had never forgotten Olivia. This girl who first taught him about love was the one that got away, someone he could never let go of. Now that she was back, I was just a substitute to be discarded. Along with my child, tossed aside like garbage. After that, I broke up with Jason. But Jason kept dragging his feet, refusing to agree. With no other choice, I enlisted an old classmate to help me stage a scene of reuniting with an ex. I’ll never forget Jason’s eyes that day. He stared at me as if he wanted to burn me alive with his gaze. “Jane, you and your new boy toy better stay the hell away from me.” “Or I can’t guarantee his safety.” His final words dripped with contempt: “You’re nothing but a dog I kept around.” “Remember this – I’m the one dumping you, not the other way around!” After that day, I never saw Jason again. He soon went abroad to expand the business. I heard he got engaged to Olivia. Both families were thrilled – it was a perfect match. Their engagement made the front page news. And now, he’d been in an accident, his memory reset to three years ago. In the silent living room, even the sound of traffic was muffled by the night. A heavy silence settled over us. I picked up my daughter, speaking softly as Jason stared at me in shock: “Jason, we’ve been broken up for three years.” “I’m… married now. With a child.” 0

It took Jason a moment to react. He opened and closed his mouth, disbelief and confusion warring on his face as he reached out to grab me. “That’s impossible,” he said, seemingly trying to convince himself as much as me. “Jane, how could you possibly be married to someone else?” “Don’t you love me?” His gaze shifted to the child in my arms. He forced a smile, “I lost my memory, so… this child is mine, right?” “Did you keep that baby from back then without telling me?” I stepped back. “Jason, stop this madness!” “This isn’t your child!” The light in Jason’s eyes was gradually consumed by darkness. “Not mine? Then whose child is it?” he snarled, grabbing my arm. “Jane, who the hell did you have a kid with?!” “With me.” Just as I was starting to panic, the door opened and Mark walked in, taking our daughter from my arms. The night air clung to his black suit, making it slightly damp, but his powerful presence made him seem anything but disheveled. He regarded Jason with mild interest. “We have a guest? You should have told me,” he said, handing me a package and completely ignoring Jason’s increasingly dark expression. “That cake you like – I almost didn’t get there in time to buy it.” Jason looked Mark up and down, his fists clenching. “Jane, when the hell did you get mixed up with him?” Before I could answer, Mark laughed. It was a cold, mocking sound devoid of any warmth. “When?” he echoed. “To be precise, we got together three years ago, had our daughter two years ago, and got married this year. Which ‘when’ are you asking about, Mr. Stewart?” In the quiet living room, the two tall men faced off. Rage blazed in Jason’s eyes while Mark regarded him with the condescending air of an adult humoring a child, emanating the confidence of a victor. I sighed, pulling Mark back as I addressed Jason: “What he said is true.” “Jason, we’ve been apart for a long time now. We both have our own lives – you’re about to marry Olivia, and I’m married with a child.” “You just lost your memory in the accident and can’t remember clearly right now. We stopped…” I paused before continuing, “We stopped being part of each other’s lives a long time ago.” “Part of each other’s lives?” Jason took a step back, his expression suddenly turning bitter. “Jane, we lived together for over a decade.” “And now you’re telling me we’re just ‘part of each other’s lives’?” I lowered my gaze, speaking softly: “You’ve grown up. We both need to have our own lives now.” Mark leaned against me, holding our daughter in one arm and taking my hand with the other, silently asserting his claim. The three of us stood together, physically not far from Jason but separated by an invisible, impassable line. After a long moment, Jason laughed. He stared at me, his voice cold. “Fine, Jane.” “You win.” 0

After Jason left, Mark didn’t say anything, but I could tell his jealous side was acting up again. He was so distracted, he barely kissed Emma when she asked for a goodnight kiss. His whole body radiated an aura of: “I’m angry, explain yourself now.” I sighed and went to hug him. “I didn’t know he was coming. He just showed up at the door, having lost his memory. I explained everything to him.” “It won’t happen again, okay?” Mark yanked off his tie and tossed it on the floor, saying nothing as he sprawled his long legs out on the couch. After a while, seeming to have calmed himself down, he finally spoke: “When I heard he’d lost his memory and immediately flew back, I had a bad feeling. I rushed back as fast as I could, but he still got in.” He looked utterly disgusted, swearing for the first time I could remember: “Damn it, why couldn’t that crash have killed him?!” I nearly laughed at his reaction. Mark always seemed so cool and composed, like nothing in the world could ruffle him. But when it came to Jason, he turned into such a jealous mess. Back when Jason first went abroad, Mark had practically thrown a party to send him off, hoping he’d never come back. Now that we’d just gotten married and Jason was back to stir things up, of course he was upset. It took a lot of coaxing and swearing I’d never get entangled with Jason again before he finally calmed down. But he still took out his frustrations on me after Emma went to sleep, leaving me sore all over. The next morning, I dragged my aching body out of bed, silently cursing Mark. What happened to men losing their drive after 25? If anything, he seemed to be getting more intense! Just then, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. Thinking it might be a delivery, I answered, but before I could speak, a familiar female voice came through. Even over the phone, I could hear the contempt in Olivia’s tone. “Jane, let’s meet up.” I frowned. “What for?” “I think we need to talk about Jason. Don’t you agree?” I rubbed my temples in frustration, cutting straight to the point: “I have nothing to do with Jason. I didn’t cause his accident or his memory loss. Whatever issues you two have, work it out between yourselves. It has nothing to do with me.”

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On the day of our wedding, my mother-in-law jumped from the second floor and died instantly. From that moment on, Anthony Reed hated me. The security footage showed that his mother had seen me shortly before she jumped. But I was in the bridal suite, getting my makeup done. I never even saw her. No matter how much I explained, he refused to believe me. He locked me in the mansion, tormenting me however he pleased, while parading woman after woman in front of me. At my breaking point, a fire consumed everything. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—back on the day of our wedding. “Quinn, I finally get to marry you. I’m not dreaming, am I?” A voice filled with excitement sounded next to my ear. The next second, I was pulled into a warm embrace. The familiar scent made my entire body freeze. I shoved him away with all my strength, raising my hand to slap him across the face. “Get your hands off me. You make me sick.” The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the room. Anthony stared at me, stunned. “Quinn, what’s wrong? Why did you hit me?” My pupils shrank as I looked down at my trembling hand, red from the force of the slap. My gaze swept the room in confusion. This… was the bridal suite? Had I been reborn? Anthony frowned, concern flashing across his face. He reached out to check my forehead. “Quinn, did you not sleep well last night? Why don’t you rest for a bit? The ceremony won’t start for a while.” In my last life, it was on this very day that Anthony’s mother died. I could still see him holding her lifeless body, sobbing uncontrollably. When he watched the security footage, he completely lost his mind. The wedding I had once looked forward to became the start of my personal hell. Taking a deep breath, I suppressed the fear rising in my chest and grabbed Anthony’s hand tightly. “Anthony, listen to me. There are a lot of people here today, and things could get chaotic. Please, keep an eye on your mom. Don’t let her out of your sight, okay?” He frowned, confused by my serious tone, but eventually nodded. “Don’t worry, Quinn. I’ll make sure she’s fine. You’ve been working so hard to prepare for this wedding—you must be exhausted. Leave everything else to me and just focus on resting.” As soon as Anthony left, I collapsed into the chair, my legs weak. My mind was a mess. What if something happened to her again? I couldn’t go through the same nightmare twice. If only I’d been reborn a few days earlier, maybe I could’ve stopped this wedding altogether. But fate had thrown me back to today, forcing me to face it all over again. I paced back and forth in the room, anxiety eating away at me. It wasn’t until the officiant’s voice echoed through the venue that I finally exhaled in relief. In my past life, Anthony’s mother had jumped before the wedding began. It seemed Anthony had taken my words seriously and kept an eye on her, preventing the tragedy. After the ceremony, I finally let my guard down. Anthony wrapped me in his arms, gently massaging my shoulders. “You were so tense, Quinn. See? The wedding wasn’t as bad as you thought, was it?” “From now on, my mom has fully accepted you. We’re a family now. Remember, you can always share what’s on your mind. I want to know how you feel, no matter what.” I nodded, a weight lifting off my chest. That night, Anthony brought me a warm glass of milk, as he always did. Noticing my low spirits, he didn’t press me or try to get intimate. Half-asleep, I was startled awake by the sound of my phone buzzing. Anthony answered it, frowning slightly. He sighed, leaned down to kiss my forehead, and whispered, “Quinn, something came up at the office. I need to head out for a bit. You rest, okay?” The door clicked shut behind him, and I drifted back into a deep sleep. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I was abruptly yanked awake. Rubbing my drowsy eyes, I looked up to see Anthony’s furious face hovering above me. “Quinn Taylor,” he spat, his voice trembling with anger, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I stared blankly, frozen in confusion. Anthony Reed didn’t care that I was wearing nothing but a thin nightgown. He grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the bedroom forcefully. Panicked, I clutched my chest to keep myself covered, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. No matter how much I screamed or begged him to stop, he didn’t listen. He was like a man possessed, his grip unrelenting as he pulled me through the house. The mansion was fully lit, and the household staff stood in two neat rows, their faces tense and uneasy. Anthony flung me down the stairs. I tumbled, rolling down step after step, until I finally hit the cold, hard floor. Disoriented and aching all over, my hand brushed against something icy and wet. Ignoring the pain, I turned my head to look. What I saw made my breath catch in my throat. It was… my mother-in-law. She lay in a pool of blood, her lifeless eyes wide open, her pupils dull and dilated. Her face was twisted in terror, as if even in death, she couldn’t find peace. How was this possible? The wedding had gone perfectly. She had survived that day. How could she be dead now, in our home? I couldn’t understand. Why, despite my second chance, had she still died? Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my scalp. Anthony grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back to force me to look at him. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack. “Quinn Taylor,” he hissed, “don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” “My mom had finally come around to accepting you. She even gave you the family heirloom bracelet to show she welcomed you into the Reed family. What more could you possibly want? How could you be so cruel?” I sobbed, shaking my head violently. “It wasn’t me, Anthony! I swear, it wasn’t me! I was asleep! When you left, I was already asleep—I couldn’t have done anything to her!” The Reeds were a prominent family, wealthy and powerful. My family, by comparison, was ordinary—completely out of their league. At first, my mother-in-law was vehemently against our relationship. Anthony, however, was determined to marry me. He defied her, rejected every woman she tried to set him up with, and even threatened to give up his position as the heir to the Reed family fortune. This only made her hatred for me grow stronger. She once declared that I would only enter the Reed family “over her dead body.” But Anthony’s resolve didn’t waver. If anything, her opposition only strengthened his commitment to me. Later, when his mother fell ill and needed a bone marrow transplant, I turned out to be a match. When she learned that I was her donor, her attitude softened. Slowly, she began to accept me. I had saved her life. How could I possibly be the one to harm her? Anthony let out a bitter laugh and shoved my head away. “Oh, really? So you’re saying the security footage is lying to me?” He glared at me with disgust, his voice dripping with venom. “Quinn Taylor, I never thought you’d be the kind of person to stab someone in the back. To act so respectful and obedient in front of my mom, only to turn around and kill her behind closed doors. Look at this, and tell me it’s not you!” My head hit the floor with a thud, leaving me dizzy and in pain. Anthony held up his phone, showing me a surveillance video. On the screen, a woman wearing a nightgown identical to mine appeared. Her build, her face—everything about her screamed that it was me. In the footage, the woman said something to my mother-in-law, causing her expression to change drastically. She raised her hand as if to strike the woman, but the woman shoved her instead. My mother-in-law stumbled backward, falling down the stairs. She landed hard at the bottom, groaning in pain. But the woman didn’t stop there. She picked up a vase and smashed it over my mother-in-law’s head. Again and again. Finally, my mother-in-law’s neck twisted at an unnatural angle, and she stopped moving. The woman stood there, disheveled and cold-eyed, before calmly walking back upstairs to the master bedroom. I watched in horror, my body trembling uncontrollably. Anthony grabbed me by the throat, his grip tightening as he leaned in close. “Look at yourself,” he snarled. “There’s blood on your nightgown—my mom’s blood. And it matches exactly with the video. Are you still going to deny it, Quinn? Are you still going to pretend you didn’t kill her?” My eyes dropped to my white nightgown, and sure enough, there was a large stain of dried blood on it. It was in the exact same spot as the bloodstain on the woman’s nightgown in the video. How… how could this be? Was it possible that I really had killed her? I clung to Anthony’s shirt, tears streaming down my face as I broke into uncontrollable sobs. “Anthony, I… I think I’m sick. I don’t remember anything—I don’t remember! I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” In my first life, I had been so sure of my innocence. Even after being reborn, I had clung to that belief. But now? Now I wasn’t so sure.

Anthony Reed tilted my chin up, his voice hoarse and bitter: “Quinn Taylor, you’ve finally admitted it, haven’t you? Tell me—how can you be so heartless? How could you do something so cruel?” Tears streamed down my face as I gasped for air, barely able to breathe. Scenes from my previous life flashed through my mind like a nightmare I couldn’t escape. In that past life, Anthony had locked me away, forcing me to share a cage with the dogs I was terrified of. He had replayed the footage of his mother jumping to her death over and over, making sure I saw it every waking moment. He knew I loved him, so he brought women into the house, flaunting them in front of me, using them to humiliate me. My body trembled uncontrollably as the memories suffocated me. The world around me seemed to darken. Anthony stood up, towering over me with cold indifference. “Quinn,” he said, his voice sharp and cutting, “you didn’t just ruin my mother’s life. You destroyed my sister’s as well. Lila came home from school just to meet you, her new sister-in-law. But what did she see the moment she walked through the door? She saw you kill our mom with her own eyes.” His words hit me like a punch to the gut. “When you pushed her,” Anthony continued, “did you even notice Lila standing there? No, of course not. You scared her so badly she fainted on the spot. Do you know how long she lay there, unconscious? Do you know she’s still in the hospital, in a coma?” He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “You need to atone, Quinn. You need to beg forgiveness—from my mom, from my sister.” Lila Reed. In my past life, she had been a graduate student studying abroad. By the time she returned home, her mother was already gone. I had only met her once—at the funeral. She had seemed so sweet and gentle, but when she attacked me, her strength was terrifying. If Anthony hadn’t stopped her, I had no doubt she would have beaten me to death. She hated Anthony for not handing me over to the police. She thought he spared me because he still loved me. She didn’t know the truth—that he kept me around only to exact his own revenge. Anthony never explained himself to her. Furious and heartbroken, Lila cut ties with him and left the country. She never came back. This time, though, Lila hadn’t left. Maybe that was the reason Anthony didn’t lock me up like before. Instead, he dragged me to the hospital and made me serve as Lila’s caretaker—his way of punishing me until she recovered. After I calmed down, I asked Anthony to take me to a psychiatrist. I needed answers. I needed to know if I was sick—if there was something wrong with me that could explain everything. Anthony’s lips curled into a mocking sneer. “Oh, I see. You want to fake a mental illness now? Is that your plan, Quinn?” He leaned in closer, his voice dripping with venom. “Don’t think for a second that claiming insanity will get you out of this. Even if you were diagnosed, I wouldn’t let you off the hook.” His words cut deep, but I forced myself to push past the pain. “Anthony,” I said, my voice trembling, “I know you hate me right now. But we’ve been together for years. You know the kind of person I am. “When your mom hated me, I still donated my bone marrow to save her. She finally accepted me, and we were happy. Why would I hurt her after everything? “I love you, Anthony. And I love your family. I just want to know the truth. Please, let me do this.” For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—hesitation, maybe even guilt. But it was gone as quickly as it came. He sighed, his jaw tight, and finally relented. The test results came back a few days later. I wasn’t mentally ill. My heart sank as I stared at the report. If I wasn’t sick, then why… why had I done something so monstrous? Before I could process what that meant, Anthony snatched the papers from my hands. His expression darkened, and the air around us seemed to grow heavier. “Well?” he snarled. “What’s your excuse now?” He threw the report onto the table, his voice rising. “Quinn Taylor, stop lying to me. You killed my mom. Just admit it!” “No!” I shouted back, tears streaming down my face. “It wasn’t me, Anthony! I swear!” My voice cracked as I pleaded with him. “Please, just wait. Lila saw everything. She might wake up and prove my innocence. Please, Anthony, I’m begging you—just give me one last chance. I don’t want our relationship to end in nothing but hatred.” Anthony’s jaw tightened, his eyes bloodshot. Finally, he growled through gritted teeth, “Fine. One last chance, Quinn. Just one.”

I looked at Lila Reed, still unconscious in her hospital bed. Maybe, just maybe, this time, she was the miracle sent to save me. For three long days, I stayed by her side. During that time, Anthony was busy organizing his mother’s funeral. He only came by occasionally to check on things. He wasn’t worried about me escaping. He’d rented out the entire hospital floor and stationed guards everywhere to watch my every move. The security was airtight—nothing could get in or out, not even a bird. When Lila finally woke up, Anthony happened to walk into the room. I barely had time to feel relieved before she suddenly let out a blood-curdling scream. Her eyes were wide with terror as she pointed at me, her hand trembling. “You… You’re the murderer!” “Anthony, it’s her! She killed Mom! It was her!” She clung to Anthony’s arm, sobbing uncontrollably. “Why is she here? She killed Mom! Why is she still here?” I stood frozen, unable to react. A chill ran down my spine, leaving me paralyzed. Anthony held his panicked sister tightly, gently stroking her back to calm her. “It’s okay, Lila. You’re safe now. Don’t get upset.” “Call the police, Anthony! Arrest her! She killed Mom—you have to call the police!” “Lila, look at me,” I pleaded desperately. “That night, it wasn’t me. Please, look carefully—it wasn’t me!” I inched closer, hoping for her to see reason, to remember something that could clear my name. But the closer I got, the more hysterical she became. The room descended into chaos. Nurses rushed in, trying to restrain her. Then, out of nowhere, a sharp slap echoed through the room. Pain erupted in my left cheek. I stood there, stunned, the side of my face burning. Anthony’s voice cut through the air, cold and furious: “Get out, you murderer.” His finger pointed toward the door, his eyes blazing with hatred. I felt as though I’d fallen into an abyss of ice. My last shred of hope was gone. At his mother’s funeral, Anthony forced me to my knees in front of the grave. The guards pressed down on my head, making me bow again and again against the cold, unforgiving tombstone. Every time my forehead hit the hard stone, stars burst in my vision. But until Anthony gave the order, the bowing wouldn’t stop. I didn’t know how long it went on. My head was spinning, my entire body weak from the blood rushing to my head. Just when I thought I couldn’t take another second, someone shoved the guards aside and pulled me into their arms. “Anthony Reed, have you lost your mind? What are you doing to Quinn? If you want revenge, go find the real killer instead of torturing her like this!” I forced my swollen eyes open just enough to see the figure standing over me. It was Lily Hart—my best friend, my sister in everything but blood. From high school to now, Lily had always treated me like family, protecting me no matter what. “Lily,” I whimpered, tears finally streaming down my face. “You believe me, don’t you? I didn’t kill her. I didn’t kill his mom.” Lily’s eyes filled with tears as she gently wiped the blood off my face. “I know, Quinn. I believe you. You’d never do something like that.” The cemetery was almost empty now, only a few people lingering. Anthony waved his hand, and the guards immediately separated me from Lily. Barely able to support myself, I leaned on the ground to keep from collapsing. Anthony let out a cold laugh. “How touching. Sisterhood at its finest.” He leaned down, his voice low and venomous. “Quinn Taylor, if you think this is the end, you’re sorely mistaken. My revenge is far from over.” I was dragged back to the mansion and locked in the same cage as before—just like in my previous life. The security footage of that night played on a loop in front of me, over and over. I began to have visceral reactions. My body would shake uncontrollably, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw his mother’s bloody face, accusing me, asking why I killed her. “I didn’t,” I whispered into the darkness. “I didn’t kill you. I swear I didn’t.” I didn’t know how much time had passed. My nerves were frayed beyond recognition. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. The nightmares never stopped. My body withered. My reflection in the mirror was barely recognizable—gaunt, hollow-eyed, and lifeless. One day, I collapsed in the cage. When the maids found me, I was unconscious. Anthony had me taken out of the cage and put on an IV drip. But even as my body recovered slightly, my mind remained a fractured mess. That afternoon, I wandered near the window, staring listlessly outside. Then I saw them. A figure in the distance, slipping through the garden. My heart stopped. My pupils dilated, and my chest tightened as my breath caught in my throat. There they were—the real murderer. The one who had killed Anthony’s mother.

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