My husband Zion Lewis died, leaving behind five million dollars in debt. I, Jane Green, decided to inherit his debts, but my best friend Quinn Myers was frantic with worry. In my previous life, she urged me not to inherit the estate. She said Zion didn’t leave a penny behind, so why should I pay his debts? So I signed the waiver agreement, declaring that Zion’s affairs had nothing to do with me, using this to escape the debt. However, the debt collectors wouldn’t let me go. They kidnapped my son Vincent Lewis to force me to pay. Watching Vincent’s fingers being sent back to me one by one, I was consumed with grief. In just 24 hours, I begged every relative I had, only managing to scrape together a hundred thousand dollars. In the end, Vincent died a horrible death, and I was sold overseas as a slave by the ruthless debt collectors. Meanwhile, Quinn transformed herself, and she and her son Vince Myers inherited the estate of a billionaire. It wasn’t until I saw that wealthy man on television and discovered he was actually Zion, who had supposedly died in an accident, that I finally understood. Zion had been pretending to be poor all along. Vince was his and Quinn’s illegitimate son, and the inheritance I had given up had all fallen into their hands. Unwilling to accept this fate, I tried to escape back to the country to get revenge on Quinn, but I died miserably under my slave master’s abuse. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Quinn urged me to give up my inheritance rights. ***** “Someone poor like Zion—no savings is one thing, but why should you have to pay back five million dollars in gambling debts?” “Jane, you should just give up your inheritance rights. That way, you won’t inherit any property, and naturally you won’t have to take on any debts. The debt collectors won’t be able to do anything to you either.” Outside the door, the deafening sound of debt collectors pounding on the door felt like hammers striking my chest. Inside, Quinn kept urging me over and over to give up my inheritance rights. In my past life, I had trusted her words. Because I didn’t want to pay Zion’s debts, I gave up my inheritance rights. But that creditor named Joseph Edwards didn’t care about any laws—he was convinced I had money and just wouldn’t pay. He kidnapped Vincent and cut off his fingers to threaten me. Every three hours, he sent me another bloody finger. I called every relative I had, and in the end only managed to raise a hundred thousand dollars. I knelt on the ground, kowtowing until my head bled, begging Joseph to spare Vincent. But he said I was just acting and insisted I had to pay the price. When Vincent’s neck was severed, blood splattered everywhere, and my world instantly turned blood red. It wasn’t until the third day after being sold overseas that I regained consciousness. Vincent was dead, and I could never go back. I was stripped naked and thrown onto muddy wooden boards, waiting for a doctor to come harvest my kidneys. On an old television beside me, Zion’s face suddenly appeared. He was actually the CEO of a publicly traded corporation, worth billions of dollars. The heir to his estate was none other than Quinn’s son Vince—the illegitimate child they had conceived behind my back. I finally understood why Quinn had desperately urged me to give up my inheritance rights. As long as I gave up, all that inheritance would belong to her and her son. While Vincent and I would die horribly at the hands of debt collectors. I refused to accept this fate and fought with all my strength to escape and get revenge on Quinn. But the place I was in was a slave compound that not even a fly could escape from. I ultimately died under my slave master’s abuse, my face so disfigured that my features were unrecognizable. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Zion’s creditors came to collect the debt. This time, I would never let Quinn succeed again. Everything that belonged to Vincent and me—they wouldn’t get to steal a single penny!
I yanked my hand away from Quinn’s grip. The diamond bracelet on her wrist sparkled under the lights, the glare making my eyes ache. “Zion is my legal husband,” I said firmly. “Whatever he left behind, I have the right to inherit.” Joseph, the debt collector outside, kicked the door open and frowned at the empty room. Waving the IOU in his hand, he leaned against the doorframe. “This gambling debt ain’t pocket change.” I answered resolutely, “I’ll take responsibility for this five million dollar debt.” Quinn’s eyes widened. “Jane, given your family’s situation right now, you don’t even have money for Zion’s funeral, do you? That’s five million dollars! How dare you agree to that? If you give up your inheritance rights now, you can still keep the house your parents left you. But if you don’t, you and Vincent won’t even have a place to live.” Seeing my silence, Quinn thought she had an opening. She immediately pulled out an inheritance waiver from her platinum handbag and pushed it in front of me. “You should sign this,” she said. “Even if you won’t think about yourself, you should consider Vincent. If you can’t pay back the money, Vincent will get bullied at school.” She spoke with such earnest concern. But I looked up and took in all her luxury items. Not a single knockoff—everything was authentic. Our first Christmas as a married couple, I had scraped together enough money to buy matching sterling silver wedding bands for Zion and me. Right now, Quinn was pointing at the signature line with fingers adorned by a rose gold ring. That single ring on her hand was worth ten of my wedding bands. Our third Christmas together, when I wanted to change jobs after experiencing workplace sexual harassment, Zion talked me out of it. He said we needed to save money for baby formula. Quinn leaned close to my ear, softly urging me on. Those big earrings of hers could cover Vincent’s living expenses for eighteen years. Later, when I got pregnant, I felt bad that Zion was working so hard alone that I didn’t dare buy even cheap fruit. When Vincent was born underweight and needed the incubator, Zion said we couldn’t afford it—maybe we should just let it go. I borrowed from every colleague I knew to save Vincent’s life. Our fifth Christmas, when Vincent reached preschool age, I worked three part-time jobs to send him to public preschool. And Quinn? She was preparing for pregnancy at a luxury maternity center that cost two hundred thousand dollars a month. I never dared to ask, afraid she’d found some rich guy but didn’t want to tell me. I never imagined the man she found was the same Zion who played poor in front of me. Even the way Quinn was urging me to sign now was seductive and charming. After more than ten years, she lived the good life with skin as smooth and tender as a young girl’s. Meanwhile, I was worn down by hardship, with crow’s feet marking the corners of my eyes. Thinking about how they’d played me for a fool, I trembled with rage. Why should Vincent and I suffer all the hardships while Quinn and Vince enjoyed all the benefits? The neighbor next door tried to persuade me: “Jane, just give up the inheritance rights. Cut ties with Zion, and you and Vincent can live peacefully.” Hearing this, Quinn crossed her arms, lips curving upward in a knowing smile, eyebrows raised with a “listen to me and you can’t go wrong” expression. After all, any reasonable person could understand the stakes involved. But I refused to listen. Without another word, I tore up that inheritance waiver. “Even if it means being homeless,” I declared, “I’ll help Zion pay off his debts! It’s just gambling debt—I can’t let money be the reason Zion can’t rest in peace.” Quinn straightened up, looking at me like I was an idiot. Joseph’s eyes turned menacing as he warned me not to pull any tricks. Unfazed, I handed over the property deed to show my sincerity: “Joseph, this house is still worth several hundred thousand dollars. Give me three days. Once I finish the funeral arrangements, I’ll definitely get you the money!”
When Quinn saw that I was even willing to mortgage my house, she realized I was serious. She immediately flew into a rage and shouted, “What good does mortgaging your house do? You’re still short over four million dollars! Where are you going to come up with that kind of money? Besides, you don’t even have a place to live now. With this freezing weather, are you really going to sleep on the streets?” After saying this, she pulled out another agreement from her bag and slammed it down hard in front of me. I grabbed her arm and put on a pitiful expression, saying, “Quinn, you’re my best friend. I believe you wouldn’t have the heart to watch me end up homeless, right?” She instinctively pulled her hand back. “I… I…” A neighbor nearby slapped his thigh and chimed in, “Jane, your friend here looks like a loyal girl. I remember you used to help take care of her kid, didn’t you?” I nodded in agreement. “Yes, her son is about the same age as mine. They even look quite similar around the eyes. People who don’t know them might think they’re real brothers…” Before I could finish, Quinn’s eye twitched, and she quickly interrupted, “I… of course I wouldn’t let you end up on the streets. Since you’ve lost your house, come stay at my place. We’re good friends, after all.” Her voice grew quieter as she spoke, clearly flustered and afraid I might notice something. Without delay, that very evening I moved into Quinn’s place with Vincent. Crystal chandeliers, large oil paintings for decoration, an entire wall of wine cabinets—the spacious apartment exuded understated luxury. This was the first time Quinn had ever let me come to her home. I opened my mouth wide in exaggerated surprise and said, “Quinn, I had no idea you’ve been doing so well these past few years.” She stammered in response, “This is a rental. The landlord was eager to sell, so the rent is very low.” Really? I gently traced the subtle pattern along the picture frame’s edge and immediately recognized the Lewis Group logo. These items were clearly purchased by Zion for her and her son. Otherwise, how could Quinn, with her three-thousand-dollar monthly salary, possibly afford to live in a place like this? If Zion hadn’t died so suddenly, I would have demanded to know why he pretended to be poor. He spent his days cramped with me in our run-down little house, then snuck off to Quinn’s luxury apartment at night. Was this his idea of twisted entertainment? Zion and I had been married for over ten years. When we first met, he was poor, and without a second thought, I let him move into the old house my parents had left me. My parents died young, and when I met a man like Zion who seemed willing to sacrifice for me, I fell for him. When he said he wanted to go out and make something of himself, I gave him my life savings to support him. But he just kept losing money, one failure after another. I thought he had no money and couldn’t do anything too outrageous. I never imagined he not only had money but was also having an affair. The mistress who kept him from coming home turned out to be Quinn—someone I’d known for years, someone I shared everything with. I estimated the value of the furnishings in Quinn’s home—any single piece would be enough to cover that five-million-dollar debt. But what she wanted was to see Vincent and me fall into complete ruin, never to recover. How could I not hate her? Vince ran out of the house wearing designer pajamas. Though he was two years younger than Vincent, he was well-nourished and nearly the same height as Vincent. Vince pointed at us and cursed: “What gives you the right to enter our house? If you don’t have a place to live, go sleep on the streets!” Quinn quickly stopped him: “Vince, don’t talk like that!” How ironic that my child and her child even had such similar names. No wonder the two boys looked so alike that even Zion never mistook them. I said nothing, but Vincent burst into tears on the spot. Quinn covered Vince’s mouth and apologized to me. But that evening, I overheard her secretly manipulating Vincent: “You can’t blame anyone else for being bullied! If your mom would just give up the inheritance, you wouldn’t have to put up with us!” She instructed Vince to pester Vincent, then privately hit and pinched him. Vincent was tormented until he became completely listless, his back covered in bruises the next day. He didn’t blame me, just cried and begged to go home. I watched it all but said nothing. Seeing my indifference, Quinn finally couldn’t contain herself. That night, she sneaked onto the balcony to make a phone call: “Yes, his name is Vincent, right at the entrance of that neighborhood. You can’t get a clear shot.” Just thinking about Vincent’s bloody fingers made my body tremble uncontrollably. My fists were clenched so tightly that my nails drew blood, though I didn’t feel the pain until much later. Sure enough, on the day of Zion’s funeral, I had just arrived at the funeral home when Joseph’s call came through. He said: “Why hasn’t the five million dollars been transferred yet? Today’s the last day. If I don’t see the money, Vincent won’t live to see another day!” A boy’s crying could be heard through the phone. I had it on speaker and said nothing. The funeral guests beside me were more panicked than I was, with someone asking if we should call the police. I waved dismissively: “No need. Let’s finish the funeral first. The cremation is about to begin—don’t delay Zion’s rest.” Quinn looked at me in disbelief: “Is Vincent really your biological son? Even at a time like this, you’re still trying to act tough? Just sign the inheritance waiver and tell Joseph that five million dollar debt has nothing to do with you. Otherwise, they really will hurt Vincent!” Everyone present nodded in agreement. I stared intently as Zion’s body was wheeled into the cremation chamber and said in a low voice: “Vincent will be fine.” Someone behind me shoved me hard: “At a time like this, you still won’t sign? Do you even deserve to be called a mother? A dead person is about to be cremated—how can that be more important than your own son’s life?” My knees slammed hard against the cold tiles, and I cried out in pain. “Ah!” But the screaming from outside was a hundred times louder than mine. A small pinky finger from a seven or eight-year-old child was delivered, blood sticking gruesomely to the plastic bag. I froze in place as if severely traumatized, while the guests around me began vomiting on the spot. Quinn lifted her chin and questioned me: “Is this what you call ‘will be fine’?” She pushed the inheritance waiver in front of me and even shoved a pen into my hand. She urged: “Sign it quickly. Once Joseph sees this agreement, he won’t be able to do anything to you and Vincent. No matter how arrogant they are, they wouldn’t dare break the law.” I still refused to pick up the pen, my eyes fixed on the cremation chamber. This time, Quinn finally lost it and shouted in front of all the guests: “Jane, even though I’m your good friend, I have to scold you. Your son is in Joseph’s hands right now. You won’t pay the debt and won’t give up the inheritance—what is this if not deliberately getting him killed? How can there be such a heartless mother in this world? I think it’s not Zion who should have died, but you, you heartless woman!” She ranted while inciting the crowd, and several strangers took advantage of the chaos to pin down my hands, forcing me to sign. The fury of the people outside the cremation chamber nearly consumed me, with figures swaying and fists flying before my eyes. It wasn’t until the flesh and blood in the cremation chamber turned to charred remains and Zion’s ashes were retrieved that I smiled. Everyone was stunned. “Rip!” I tore the half-signed agreement to shreds. Quinn opened her mouth, about to curse again. Without hesitation, I slapped her across the face and kicked her to the ground. I said: “Quinn, what right do you have to lecture me? I’m more qualified to be a mother than you are, because the one who was kidnapped isn’t even…”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MyFiction” app 🔍 search for “398105”, and watch the full series ✨! #MyFiction #B×G #Rebirth #FalseIdentity #Cheating #Death #Revenge
Leave a Reply