Grandma Lily, at the ripe age of 70, had fallen head over heels into an online romance. She was sending mushy messages on SnapChat and even spent $1,000 on her young “boyfriend” to boost his online business performance. No one could talk her out of it. Aunt Sarah pointed her finger at Grandma and scolded, “At your age, have you no shame? You’re embarrassing us all!” But I stood firmly by Grandma’s side. After all, I was the one behind her online romance. Grandpa had left behind an inheritance of $100,000. On his deathbed, he explicitly stated that after Grandma passed away, all the money should go to his grandsons. Aunt Sarah puffed up like a peacock, proud as can be, since she had two sons. Aunt Jessica chimed in, not to be outdone, “I have a son too.” As the granddaughter, I naturally wouldn’t see a penny of it. Mom was furious. For years, our family had been the ones taking care of Grandpa and Grandma. Even when Grandpa fell ill, it was my parents who footed the medical bills. Grandpa believed that since I was a girl, I’d eventually marry and leave the family, so there was no need to leave me any inheritance. Uncle Robert and Uncle Michael’s families only visited Grandpa and Grandma once a year during New Year’s, yet Grandpa welcomed them with open arms. He’d say that Aunt Sarah and Aunt Jessica were the family’s greatest contributors for giving birth to sons. Every time he said this, Mom’s head would droop so low it almost touched the ground. She felt guilty for not giving Dad a son. That’s why she bent over backward to care for Grandpa and Grandma. During family gatherings, Mom was always the one running around, taking care of everything. But no matter what, I was still Grandpa’s granddaughter. His decision truly angered Mom. Dad, being the soft-spoken person he was, didn’t say much. Grandma had lived her entire life under Grandpa’s thumb, treating his words as gospel. I was raised by Grandma. She always doted on me, taking me to school, buying me clothes and treats. But under Grandpa’s influence, she still agreed to follow his wishes. When my parents ran out of money paying for Grandpa’s medical bills, Mom asked Grandma to borrow money for my college tuition. Grandma, who usually spoiled me, hesitated and refused: “Your grandpa said the inheritance is for his grandsons.” “Girls will eventually marry into other families anyway.” “Your grandpa is the head of the family. I have to listen to him.” Even though Grandma usually treated me well, there was no room for negotiation on this matter. Aunt Sarah approached Grandma, sucking up to her: “Mom, look at Ryan. He’s about to get married and really needs the money. We have two sons, so we should get more of the inheritance, right?” Aunt Jessica wasn’t about to back down either. “Dad said it’s for the boys, but he didn’t say your two sons should get more.” “When it comes to giving out New Year’s money, Dad always gives my son Jason $100, while your two sons only get $100 combined.” Grandma got angry and slammed her bowl on the table with a loud “bang”: “Your father said to divide it after I’m dead. I’m not dead yet, and you’re already planning to split the inheritance?” They apologized, saying “How could we think that?” But in their hearts, they knew exactly what they were doing. How much money could an old lady from a small town spend? Whatever was left would be theirs, right? Back in our room, Mom looked dejected: “I told your dad we should set aside money for your college, but he wouldn’t listen. He insisted your grandpa would remember how good we’ve been to them.” At this point, Mom was getting angry. She scoffed: “Don’t come to me if any of you Johnsons need anything in the future.” “Bella is my precious daughter. From now on, all the money I earn is for Bella.” Dad knew he was in the wrong and didn’t dare say a word.

After Grandpa passed away, I noticed Grandma had changed. Especially these past few days, she’d been acting mysteriously. She used to go for a walk after dinner without fail. But lately, she’d rush back to her room right after eating and stay cooped up for hours. It was as if she had some treasure to guard in her room. She seemed unusually excited, her eyes sparkling like a young girl in love. I quietly snuck to her window and peeked inside. Grandma was grinning at her phone. It was a phone I bought her last year and taught her how to use SnapChat on. Could it be that she was hooked on TikTok? As I was thinking this, Grandma called out to me, asking for help with her phone: “Bella, can you take a look at Grandma’s phone? It’s not working.” “It’s frozen.” I took the phone and examined it. There were too many junk apps, and those malicious ads wouldn’t close. I tinkered with it for a while and discovered it was full of bloatware. “Grandma, I’ll fix it and bring it back to you in a bit.” Grandma seemed a bit uneasy and urged me to fix it quickly. I readily agreed. The phone didn’t have any major issues. After deleting the junk apps and downloading some antivirus software, it would be fine. The phone’s storage was limited, so I cleared out a lot for her. She was following many marketing accounts on Instagram, and I was about to unfollow them when I suddenly saw some explicit messages Grandma had sent, making me blush. “You’re my little sweetheart. Chatting with you every day is the happiest thing in my life.” “I love you too. You’re the most heart-fluttering treasure in my life.” “I want to meet you in person!” … There were also long voice messages after that. In my mind, Grandma had always been frugal and proper, always following Grandpa’s words. I couldn’t imagine such mushy words coming out of Grandma’s mouth. This kind of account was clearly designed to scam elderly people. They’d send messages like “Sister, I miss you so much” every day. But Grandma thought she had found her soulmate and was chatting enthusiastically. A thought suddenly popped into my head. I could pretend to be Grandma’s online romance. Grandma would get the emotional connection she craved, and I’d get money. It was a win-win situation. “Mom, I’ve got my tuition covered,” I said to myself.

I created a new SnapChat account with the nickname “Ray.” The friend request was accepted immediately. Grandma didn’t understand: “Ray, why are you messaging me from a different account?” I replied: “I created this new account just for you. You’re the only contact on it.” Grandma responded with a shy emoji, like an 18-year-old girl. Over the next few days, we chatted passionately. Grandma was slow with typing, and Uncle Robert accidentally saw her messages. These past few days, the competition between Uncle Robert and Uncle Michael had reached a fever pitch. Uncle Michael’s family had been secretly trying to curry favor, and Uncle Robert was afraid Grandma would give all the inheritance to the second son’s family. So he’d been visiting more frequently lately. He sat by Grandma’s bed, cracking sunflower seeds and making a mess on the floor. At one point, he accidentally glimpsed Grandma’s SnapChat. The chat window was still open on the message: “I love you too, you’re my sweetheart.” He jumped up, his face flushing with anger. He snatched the phone and scrolled through the chat history, feeling like his world view had been shattered: “Mom, how could you do something to betray Dad?” “At your age, aren’t you ashamed?” Hearing Uncle Robert’s roar, the others finally learned that Grandma had started an online romance. Dad stood in the corner, quietly defending Grandma: “It’s good for Mom to have someone to talk to and keep her company.” Recently, Mom had a change of heart. She went on strike, refusing to cook or take care of the family. Instead, she spent her days gardening, buying clothes, and pampering herself. She wasn’t as attentive to Grandma as before. Grandma had no one to talk to every day and could only talk to herself. I completely understood Mom. Although Grandma raised me, there was no reason for Mom to fulfill the obligation of caring for her on behalf of Dad and me. Uncle Robert wouldn’t let it go. He insisted on knowing who the old man on the other end was. Grandma was both embarrassed and angry, pointing at Uncle Robert but unable to speak for a while. It wasn’t clear if she felt ashamed that her son knew about her private matters or if she was angry that Uncle Robert didn’t understand her. “What law am I breaking? Your father is gone, and I can’t even find someone to talk to?” Aunt Sarah and Aunt Jessica chuckled softly, as if they were watching Grandma make a fool of herself. Grandma suggested that the children take turns staying at home to keep her company, and she would stop the online romance. But no one agreed. Uncle Robert said he was busy with work, and Uncle Michael said he had to take care of his kids. Aunt Sarah tried to smooth things over, saying that since Grandma was only having an online romance and hadn’t done anything illegal, they should just let the old lady be. Seeing someone offering a way out, Uncle Robert stopped talking, his face still sour. Everyone tacitly agreed to this arrangement.

I watched coldly as they put on their act. I wasn’t going to stop at just an online romance. I needed to make money too. With my college tuition on my mind, I felt the time was right to start asking Grandma for money in Ray’s name. I asked for money without any guilt. My parents had taken care of Grandpa and Grandma in their old age, paid for their medical bills, but Grandpa wouldn’t spare a penny. I hated this behavior, but unfortunately, Grandpa was already dead. I could only try to get back my parents’ hard-earned money from Grandma. I sent Grandma a message on SnapChat: “Darling, Ray can’t chat with you every day anymore. I’m out of money and need to go find work.” Grandma immediately became anxious: “At your age, where can you go to work?” Then she transferred $200. “Take this money and buy some groceries.” I quickly accepted the money. “Thank you, darling. Now I don’t have to work for a month and can spend time with you.” Seeing the sudden $200 in my SnapChat account, I rolled on the bed laughing. Who knew a few caring words could be worth so much to Grandma? I called out to Grandma, who was fanning herself outside: “Grandma, do you want some bubble tea?” It was a hot summer day, and I rode my bike home with two iced bubble teas. Grandma clumsily inserted the straw and took a sip. Her eyes immediately lit up: “This stuff is really good!” She took several more big sips as she spoke. “Bella, this bubble tea is so delicious. Is it expensive?” I rolled my eyes and said: “Very expensive! Over $10 a cup!” Grandma’s eyes widened. She looked at the fancy cup in her hand, seemingly unable to believe it could be so expensive. But after a while, she nodded and pulled out $50 from her pocket: “Expensive things do taste better. Bella, Grandma will give you money. Next time, bring Grandma another cup.” I happily went back to my room. Within two minutes, Ray’s SnapChat received another $20: “Ray, bubble tea is delicious. Go get yourself a cup too.” Over the next few days, I made money hand over fist just by chatting with Grandma. It didn’t take long before I had saved up enough for my tuition. “Darling, at this age, you should be good to yourself. Let the younger generation worry about themselves.” “Why should my treasure sacrifice for a big family?” “At this age, it’s time to enjoy what your children can give back.” I didn’t expect Grandma to accept new ideas so quickly. As soon as I said it, she understood and even thanked me for making her see things clearly.

Uncle Robert and Uncle Michael’s families had been visiting more frequently lately. In the past, they only came back twice a year, claiming they were busy with work and had to take care of their children. Now, Uncle Robert came home once a week, bringing Grandma milk, fruits, and supplements. Uncle Michael sent Aunt Jessica over to care for Grandma, accompanying her shopping and exercising. They were competing to see who could be more filial. In the past, Grandma used to eat and live at our house for free. After Mom stopped taking care of her, the task of cooking for Grandma fell to them. They were shrewd. When they went out to buy vegetables, they would ask Grandma for money. Uncle Robert bought a box of apples online, and when he was about to pay using Grandma’s SnapChat, he exploded: “Mom, you had $2,000 in your account for pocket money last month. How come there’s less than $1,000 now?” Uncle Robert kept a close eye on Grandma’s bank card and the money in her phone. Not a single change escaped his notice. Grandma’s online romance wasn’t a big problem, but an online romance that cost money was a major issue. Uncle Robert fumed, roaring in the house: “You won’t give money to your son, but you’ll go support a toyboy?” “They’re all scammers! Scammers!” Uncle Robert felt he was in the right, so he called everyone in the family for a meeting. Grandma used to revolve her life around her husband and children, but since Grandpa passed away, her behavior had shocked everyone. Uncle Robert’s face was ashen. This time, he was several levels angrier than before: “At your age, not only are you having a romance but also supporting a toyboy. If you’re not embarrassed, we are! And how can you face Dad?” Everyone sighed and shook their heads: “Mom, you used to be such a good person. How did you become like this?” Uncle Michael sat on a small stool, trying to reason with her: “Mom, we all work hard to earn money. It’s one thing if you spend it on yourself, but you can’t just give it away to strangers.”

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One day,I accidentally discovered that I could share sensations with my husband. Not only could I feel the pain from his injuries,but I could also experience the pleasure he felt when doing things he loved. Until one night,while he was live-streaming a skydiving event from the United States,I watched as he and his female partner soared together—and suddenly,I felt an indescribable surge of pleasure… My husband,Chase,is a thrill-seeker,especially passionate about skydiving. I,on the other hand,am a professional designer—one of us is always on the move,while the other is steady,and that’s how fate brought us together. Extreme sports often take place abroad,so Chase and I spend a lot of time apart. After one skydiving accident,Chase broke his leg,forcing him to come back to the States and stay in the hospital for a while. When I brought him some chicken noodle soup to the hospital,he was engrossed in watching a live stream. I leaned over to take a peek at his iPad screen,which read: “#The Inaugural National Paragliding Championship–Qualifiers in Progress.#” I sighed,“Babe,can we stop with these dangerous sports?” Chase loves skydiving and paragliding.He’s had dozens of metal pins put into his body because of it. He’s taken his hobby to an elite level,even competing in the Pro Circuit internationally. Startled by my presence,he still smiled cheekily and shook his head. “Lily,I know you worry about me,but this is what I live for.The thrill and excitement I get from these sports are like nothing else.” I gazed at Chase’s handsome face,momentarily lost in thought. Extreme sports are a rich man’s hobby,not something the average person can afford.And since he doesn’t need to work,Chase is clearly a trust fund baby. People envy me for marrying a rich and attractive man,but what they don’t see is how we can never be together all the time. Honestly,I envy his teammates more than anyone. I spooned some chicken noodle soup into Chase’s mouth,and he grinned happily. “My wife is amazing,the perfect woman who can run the house and cook!I risk my life outside,but I never have to worry about things at home.” I quickly shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth. “Stop talking about life and death,would you?” Since our marriage,Chase has been home very little.I’ve been the one taking care of everything for his family,handling all the domestic affairs. He coughed violently after choking on some soup,but still laughed mysteriously. “You’re worried about your husband,huh?Haha,I should give you a kid soon so you won’t miss me so much.” Just as we were joking around,a gorgeous woman knocked on the door and walked in,smiling as she took off her sunglasses. “Oops,didn’t mean to interrupt you two.” The moment I saw Sophie Lee,I froze.I had seen her in countless photos on Chase’s Instagram. Sophie was his long-time paragliding partner,an Asian-American,and they’d won many trophies together on the Pro Circuit. Even though she spent years outdoors,her skin was still smooth and glowing,with an enviable hourglass figure and long legs that would make anyone jealous. She was dressed provocatively,wearing a skimpy tank top that revealed a lot in this cool weather,completely unbothered by the chill. She waltzed in,playfully flicked Chase’s forehead,and lifted the blanket to inspect his injured leg. “What’s up with you?Can’t believe you managed to hurt yourself like this.” I was shocked because Chase was lying there with only his underwear on,and Sophie was acting like it was the most natural thing in the world. Noticing my discomfort,she laughed openly. “We’re the best partners on the field and practically siblings off it.Hope you don’t mind,Lily?” Chase quickly covered his leg. “She might not mind,but I do!Give me some privacy here,would you?” As they bantered back and forth,I couldn’t help but notice the sudden change under the blanket.Chase had clearly reacted to Sophie’s presence. Was I imagining it,or had my husband just…responded to her?

After Sophie left,the doctor came in to check on Chase’s leg. As the doctor adjusted his cast,I saw Chase wince in pain.But the next moment,I felt a sharp,stabbing pain in my own leg—right where his injury was. The pain was so intense,I collapsed onto the floor,leaving both Chase and the doctor startled. “Lily,what’s going on?My leg’s hurting,not yours!Why are you limping?” I quickly rolled up my pant leg to check,but there was nothing there—no injury at all. And after the doctor finished with Chase’s leg,the pain in mine vanished. Could I have…shared Chase’s sensation just now? Suspicious but uncertain,I shook my head. “It’s nothing.I’ve just been sleeping poorly lately,and seeing you in pain made me feel weak.” Chase squeezed my hand apologetically. “You’ve been so amazing,juggling work and looking after me.No wonder you’re worn out.” His caring words made me forget my doubts,and I tucked him in before heading off to work. The rest of the afternoon flew by in a blur of tasks,but on my way home,Chase called me. His voice was low and lazy,laced with a magnetic pull. “Babe,I’ve been thinking…Once I’m out of here,how about we finally start trying for a baby?” We’d been married for three years,but with Chase traveling constantly,we hadn’t had time to start a family.And every time he came home,our passion burned like wildfire. As a man with a strong physique and an intense desire for adventure,Chase had a lot of energy to burn in other areas,too. His tone was familiar,and I could guess where this conversation was headed.Sure enough,he wanted me to say his name.I blushed and scolded him. “Seriously?You’re still in the hospital!Stop messing around.” “Come on,it’s just me here.No one’s going to hear.” Chase was in a private,soundproofed VIP room,with the doctors and nurses far away on night shift duty. “Hurry up,babe.I can’t wait any longer.” Reluctantly,I turned on the video call and did what he asked. Just moments later,I heard something…suggestive on the other end.Mortified,I was about to hang up when suddenly,I felt a strange,electrifying sensation sweep through my body. Two minutes later,Chase finished. He stared at the flushed expression on my face over the video,grinning as he caught his breath. “Well,well,babe.Seems like you were feeling the same thing as me,huh?” My heart skipped a beat.Had I just shared his sensation again? Over the next few weeks,I gradually realized that whenever Chase experienced intense physical sensations,I could feel them too. Chase was always getting into scrapes overseas,and he rarely told me the truth.So,I kept this secret to myself,not wanting to worry him. Not long after his release from the hospital,Chase was back to his old ways.He booked a flight to California for the National Paragliding Championship. He told me that the thrill of conquering nature was the only thing that could truly satisfy him anymore.Money and material comforts just weren’t enough. I sighed and gave him a hard pinch at the airport. “Fine,but don’t come crying to me if you end up getting carried off a plane again.Be safe!” Chase laughed,pulling me in for a kiss. “Don’t worry,babe.I’m counting on you to give me good news when I get back.” My face heated at the thought.Before he left,Chase and I had been trying for a baby,and he had promised to quit extreme sports once we had one and settle down. Once I was sure his flight had landed in California,I called him on video chat. “Hey,did you guys make it there safely?” It was already dark here,but over there,the sun was still shining brightly. To my surprise,it was Sophie who answered.She was draped over Chase’s shoulder,laughing. “Don’t worry,Lily.I’ve got Chase under control.He won’t lose a hair on his head.” Seeing her so casually taking my place by his side,I suddenly felt a pang of discomfort. This time,they were competing as a pair in the doubles paragliding event,which would be live-streamed for everyone to watch. At 10:30 PM,I anxiously tuned in to the broadcast. When Chase’s turn finally came,I could feel how excited he was. My heart pounded in sync with his as they took off into the sky,their paragliders soaring over the lush green fields below. The camera zoomed in,capturing their faces as they flew.I could see the exhilaration in Chase and Sophie’s twisted expressions. I couldn’t help but think:Is this what extreme sports feel like? Suddenly,I felt a wave of indescribable pleasure wash over me,and I clenched my thighs in response.

The announcer was rambling on,describing how fully immersed the pair seemed in the experience. A chill ran down my spine.The sensation was unlike anything I’d felt before—something far more intense than usual. It felt like I was flying too,reaching a euphoric height beyond my imagination. But what shocked me the most was that Chase was supposed to be in the middle of the competition! How could he be feeling…this? After the rush passed,sweat beaded on my forehead.I stared at them intently,watching as they landed smoothly. They looked completely calm,clothes intact,and even chatted casually with a reporter. But I still couldn’t shake my confusion. Finally,during Sophie’s interview,her voice trembled ever so slightly,betraying something. “So,how was this flight experience for you?” “Oh,it was…just as thrilling as always.Really amazing.I have to thank my partner for making it unforgettable.” Her voice quivered with excitement as she spoke,though she tried to play it off. I called Chase to congratulate him on making it through the qualifiers. He laughed as usual,his voice full of confidence. “How about that?Your husband nailed it,didn’t he?This championship is mine.” I kept my questions to myself,not wanting to raise suspicion.After all,without solid proof,how could I accuse them of doing something like that in mid-air? That night,I couldn’t sleep at all. I scrolled through international news and stumbled upon an article about a couple caught getting intimate on a hot air balloon.The man got so carried away that he accidentally pushed the woman out,resulting in her death.The footage was captured by their own recording device,and the man was charged with manslaughter. The comment section was buzzing: “Talk about living on the edge!” “If I were that guy,I’d be bragging about this for life.” “She probably died happy,at least…” As I read through the comments,my suspicions grew.I tossed and turned,wondering if Chase,the man I’d been married to for three years,had really betrayed me. To understand just how far things could go in the world of extreme sports,I decided to fly to California and try paragliding for myself. When I arrived at their training base,Chase was visibly surprised. Feigning ignorance,I threw my arms around him. “Hey,babe!Did you miss me?I took some time off just to come see you.” Sophie was standing nearby,dressed in a tight black sports outfit that accentuated her figure. She gave Chase a teasing nudge with her elbow. “Chase,your little wife sure is attached.She crossed the ocean just to be here with you.” Chase didn’t seem particularly happy about my arrival.If anything,he looked slightly irritated that I had intruded into his world. “What are you doing here?If you don’t have any business,why don’t you head back to the Marina Heights Apartments and rest?Think of this as a vacation.” I shook my head and wrapped my arms around his neck. “No,I’m here for a reason.After watching your last match,I got so excited that I wanted to try paragliding myself.” Chase hesitated for a moment before realizing that I was dressed in a specially designed jumpsuit,ready to take flight. He grabbed my hand,his expression unreadable. “Lily,as a professional,I have to warn you—this sport is dangerous.It’s not something regular people should try lightly.” I shrugged off his concern. “Don’t worry.I’ve been watching your competition videos for years.Plus,there’s an instructor here,so what’s the harm?” “I’m really curious about what kind of view—and thrill—could keep you away from home for three whole years.” I truly wanted to know. So,I hired a well-built,handsome white instructor from the base,whose muscles were practically bursting through his T-shirt. The weather was perfect,with a gentle breeze and clear skies—the ideal conditions for flying. Chase sighed when he realized he couldn’t change my mind. “Alright,just be careful.People here are pretty open,you know.” I ignored him,as the instructor carefully strapped me into the gear and went over all the safety instructions. Then,he positioned himself behind me,wrapping his arms around me to control the direction. Finally,we caught a gust of wind and began running down the hill. “Little lady,we’re taking off now!” I didn’t even have time to register his words before I felt something hot press against my back.My mind went blank. Before I could react,the paraglider had already lifted off the ground,and we were soaring into the valley.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294705”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #擦边Steamy

David and Linda Thompson doted on their daughter Emily as if she were the center of their world, but due to an accidental pregnancy, they had a son, Ryan. To make it up to me, they sent me to Phillips Exeter Academy, dressed me in designer clothes, and handed me everything I ever wanted. Ryan, on the other hand, only got my hand-me-downs. Everyone said I was the “rose that bloomed in the projects.” But I dragged my parents to court. If the accusation of neglecting their daughter was proven true, the one caught lying would die instantly. Everyone thought I was crazy, but only I knew the truth: they never needed me. They were always just a family of three. This is a world where every citizen can participate in trials online and vote on the verdict. In the public courtroom, I stood in a moon-white dress, my lips painted bright red, while my parents and younger brother sat beside me in their plain clothes. The contrast couldn’t have been more stark. The live stream comments were relentless in their insults: “Look at the plaintiff, all dressed up! There’s no way she’s being abused!” “I feel so bad for her parents. They can’t even afford decent clothes, yet they put their daughter through college, and now she’s turning on them?” People who knew my parents saw them as obsessed with me. Their Facebook posts were filled with pictures of me, showing off their pride and joy. They scrimped and saved to send me to a prestigious school like Phillips Exeter, while Ryan only went to Jefferson High School. Everyone called me the rose that bloomed in the projects. After I got into Stanford, I even won a National Merit Scholarship in my first semester. Everything I had was because of my parents. But according to the Supreme Constitutional Law, everyone is born equal. If a child suffers severe unfair treatment, they have the right to sue their family. If my claim turned out to be false, I would die instantly, and my organs would be donated. But if the gender bias was proven true, Ryan would die, and my parents would suffer endless misfortune. When they found out I was suing them, their faces were filled with shock. My father, David, furrowed his brow. “Emily, come back to us. There must be a misunderstanding, let’s talk this through. Don’t do anything extreme.” My mother, Linda, broke down crying. “Is it because your college expenses aren’t enough? I’ll find a way to earn more. Please, don’t risk your life! You’re the most important child we have!” The live stream audience started to feel sorry for them. “Oh man, I can’t handle seeing a mom cry. Can we just wrap this up and take down this ungrateful brat?” “I always knew spoiling girls would lead to trouble. This proves it!” I turned my head away, coldly, disgusted by the fake mask they wore. But it wouldn’t last long. “Judge, please proceed,” I said. Seeing that I insisted on going through with the trial, both of my parents’ faces flashed with unease. Suddenly, the mechanical voice of the judge silenced the crowd. “This trial will proceed by extracting six memory segments from both the plaintiff and the defendants at different stages of their lives. The jury will observe these memories from a third-person perspective and vote to determine guilt.”

The trial officially began. The first memory was projected onto the screen. It was the scene when Ryan was just born. My mom, Linda, still looked weak, while my dad, David, anxiously spoke to visiting relatives: “We never planned on having a second child. We only wanted to focus on Emily.” “But Linda had an unexpected pregnancy. By the time we found out, it was too late to have an abortion, so we had to have him.” Ryan was a premature baby and was rushed to the NICU after birth. After they brought him home, my mom made a tough decision and handed Ryan over to Grandpa John and Grandma Susan to raise. They had to work to make ends meet, so they took me—who was already in preschool—with them, while Ryan stayed with my grandparents as an infant. Even though we moved around a lot, I was happy because I stayed close to my parents. Whenever I’d stretch out my arms and yell, “Mommy, pick me up!” Linda would smile and scoop me up, snapping picture after picture of me to show off to everyone. “My precious daughter is a gift from heaven!” she would say. The live stream comments started to blow up: “Wait, gender bias? I think it’s the other way around!” “Ryan got left behind as a baby! How sad is that?” “Exactly, what kid wouldn’t want to be with their parents? Ryan got the short end of the stick.” At that moment, my mom wiped her tears and raised her hand. The judge’s cold, mechanical voice came through: “The defendants request to submit evidence.” My mom, red-eyed, pulled out two photos. In one, I was smiling brightly in my parents’ arms. In the other, Ryan was alone, crying in the apartment where he lived with Grandpa John and Grandma Susan. “We always favored Emily,” she explained, “because we were afraid she’d feel hurt once Ryan came along. So we kept her close, while Ryan… well, even if he cried his heart out, we only visited him once a year.” “No matter what we had, Emily always got the best of it. Ryan only got the leftovers.” The audience became even more emotional: “Poor parents, trying their best. You can’t treat both kids exactly the same, right?” “I can’t believe she’s suing her parents after they sacrificed so much for her. Ungrateful!” As the comments raged on, the first vote came in, and without a doubt, the jury sided with my parents. Seeing they’d won the first round, my mom finally seemed to relax a little. “Emily, please, let’s stop this. We can still go back to the way things were,” she pleaded. “I’m willing to sign a settlement, I won’t hold it against you.” My mom looked at me with desperate eyes. Ryan chimed in urgently, “Sis, please stop this. Everyone knows you’re their favorite. If this trial keeps going, you’ll die! What’s going to happen to Mom and Dad then?” “Wow, I’ve never seen defendants plead like this! She could settle and walk away without facing any consequences!” But I stayed calm and cool, turning to the judge and saying, “Let’s continue.” Because the truth, the real truth, was yet to come.

The next memory was revealed. By the time I was ten, I had already started living at school during the week. That year, during the school’s Spring Play, I danced my heart out on stage. My parents had even taken time off work to watch me perform. When the show ended, I tripped on my long dress but still scrambled up, running toward them with a big, toothy grin, one of my front teeth missing. “Mommy, how did I do?” I asked. But my mom barely paid attention, distracted. “There were too many people on stage. Where were you standing again? I couldn’t tell.” The audience was stunned. “Wait, weren’t they just watching her and smiling? I thought they were really into it!” “Emily was the lead dancer in the front row! I’m nearly blind, and even I could tell it was her. What were her parents watching?” I noticed the brief flicker of discomfort on my parents’ faces, but they quickly recovered. The scene shifted to later that same day. I sat alone in the school cafeteria, eating a cold sandwich, watching as all the other kids were picked up by their parents. I quietly cried into my food. Meanwhile, my parents had taken Ryan to Six Flags to celebrate his seventh birthday. That same week, I scored a 99 on my exam. They barely acknowledged it, telling me to aim for 100. But when Ryan scored 60, they were overjoyed. “That’s my boy! Just a little more effort, and you’ll be doing great. Last time it was 40, and now you’ve jumped up 20 points!” David said proudly. Ryan grinned, puffing his chest. “It’s easy to improve by a few points, but jumping 20? That’s talent. I’ve got way more potential than Emily!” The live stream audience started to shift their tone. “Wow, what a ridiculous comparison. Anyone knows that going from 90 to 100 is much harder.” “And this dad? Praising his son by putting down his daughter? Seriously?” At this point, Ryan got flustered. “It was my birthday! I was just a little kid; of course, my parents wanted to make me happy!” Some people defended him, pointing out that since the parents weren’t around much, it made sense to spoil Ryan a bit on his birthday. Others had different thoughts: “But Emily’s a latchkey kid too!” “Ugh, seeing her cry in the corner breaks my heart.” When the jury voted, many agreed that gender bias existed, and this round went in my favor. The screen now showed a 1-1 tie, and I could see the tension return to my mom’s face. “Emily, your mom and I have always treated you and Ryan equally, but we’re only human. Sometimes it’s impossible to keep things perfectly balanced. Can you forgive us for those moments?” she said, her voice shaky. Her words sparked sympathy again from the viewers. “Yeah, I get it. My oldest always has to give in to the younger one, but I still try to be fair.” “Right, families with multiple kids have so many little conflicts—this doesn’t seem like abuse.” As the conversation quieted, the judge released the third memory segment.

I had already lost two rounds. According to the rule of needing four wins out of six, if I lost the next one, the trial could end in a tie or, worse, a loss for me. But the memory extractor was going in chronological order. We were getting close to the memories of my high school years. There was no way they could win these. My mom, Linda, was growing increasingly anxious, practically begging me now: “Emily, please, stop this! We can’t lose you.” But I just smiled and said, “Mom, didn’t you always say I was the one you loved the most? If that’s true, why are you so afraid of the truth? If you really treated me the same as Ryan, I won’t mind dying for it.” At that moment, the system judge’s cold, robotic voice rang out, asking me if I wanted to proceed with the trial. I nodded firmly, unable to wait any longer to rip away their masks. The parents I had depended on for so long had never truly cared about me. Those hidden scars, those painful truths buried for years, were finally about to be revealed. “Honestly, aside from the Six Flags birthday trip, all the memories show them favoring their daughter. Why is she still pushing this?” “Yeah, she seems pretty calm for someone who might die. Maybe there’s something deeper going on?” The fourth memory segment appeared on the big screen. I was sixteen at the time, having just finished my high school entrance exams. I had grown tall and graceful, my face still soft and innocent, like a newborn lamb. Because I had ranked first in the entire city, I made the local newspaper, and the media even came to interview my family. The reporter asked which school I wanted to attend. I smiled brightly. “I’ve worked so hard so I could get into the best high school, just to stay close to Mom and Dad.” From elementary school to middle school, I had been living on campus, away from home. I longed to spend my high school years living with my parents. Since they worked in the city, my only chance of staying with them was if I could get into Lincoln High School. But after receiving my scholarship and the spotlight faded, my parents enrolled me in Brighton Preparatory School—a private school far out of state. The school was so far away that I wouldn’t be able to come home even once a year. The smile on my face froze. My mom hugged me, crying with tears streaming down her face. “My darling, I don’t want to send you away either, but the teachers say you’re extraordinarily gifted. We can’t let ordinary education hold you back. You’ll get a much better education at Brighton.” Principal George Michaels, a seemingly kind and elderly man in his sixties, met us in his office. He eyed me with sharp scrutiny, saying he recognized my potential and promised to nurture it well. He also assured my parents that my tuition and living expenses would be fully covered. I don’t know what else he whispered to them in hushed voices. But in the end, my parents exchanged satisfied glances and left with smiles on their faces. “What the hell is this old man up to?” “Oh my god, someone stop him!” Suddenly, shocked comments poured into the live stream. Everyone saw what happened next—after my parents left, Principal Michaels closed the door to his office. Then, with a smile still on his face, he walked over to me, ignoring my cries, and reached under my skirt.

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I dolled myself up and went to the hospital to pick up my boyfriend after his shift. Unexpectedly, I discovered he wasn’t there. Before I could even leave the department, my phone buzzed with a SnapChat message: “Mom slipped and fell at home yesterday. I’ve taken a day off to check on her. I won’t be coming home tonight. Take care of yourself.” But hadn’t his mother just called me, excitedly sharing that she was on her way to go hiking? My sixth sense told me that he was hiding something significant. I opened Emily’s Instagram profile. Her latest post was from dinnertime. There were two photos attached. The first showed her foot in a protective boot. The second was the back view of a man busy in the kitchen. The familiar silhouette wore the same shirt I had bought for my boyfriend just last week while we were out shopping. I dolled myself up and headed to the hospital to pick up my boyfriend after his shift. As I approached the nurse’s station, one of the nurses playfully stopped me. “Rachel, didn’t you know Jason didn’t come to work today?” Jason and I worked in different departments at the same hospital. I was confused; he had left for work as usual this morning without any signs of something being amiss. Before I could even leave the department, my phone buzzed with a SnapChat message: “Mom slipped and fell at home yesterday. I’ve taken a day off to check on her. I won’t be coming home tonight. Take care of yourself.” But hadn’t Mrs. Sullivan just called me, excitedly sharing that she was on her way to go hiking? My sixth sense told me that he was hiding something significant.

The call connected just as it was about to go to voicemail. His voice was as warm as ever, perhaps even more tender as he called my name. “Rachel, did the message wake you? Mom fell yesterday, so I went home to check on her. I’ll be back soon.” I clenched my fist slightly. “I came to pick you up after your shift. I’m at the ward entrance.” “It’s my fault. I didn’t want to disturb your rest and ended up worrying you. How about I take you to that new dessert place downstairs when I get back?” The words caught in my throat. After a moment’s hesitation, I took a deep breath before speaking. “Did you know your mom caught an early flight this morning to go hiking out of town?” The other end of the line suddenly went quiet, the atmosphere tense. When he spoke again, even through the phone, I could sense that Jason’s tone had cooled. “You called my mom?” “She called me, complaining about how exhausting it was to catch an early flight.” He paused, his voice lowering, becoming a bit hesitant. Before he could explain further, I heard a faint exclamation from his end. He hurriedly said, “Let’s talk when I get back. Something’s come up. I’ve got to go.” The line went dead, and I returned home in a daze. Lying alone in bed, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to dark places. My fingers brushed against a fluffy plush toy. A month ago, during a holiday, Jason had gone back alone to visit his grandmother. I had stayed home to work on my thesis. When Jason returned and was unpacking, he pulled out this limited edition 100th anniversary Disney Stitch plush. He said he remembered I liked it and had specially bought it for me through a reseller. In the six years we’d been together, my wish to visit Disneyland had always been postponed due to one thing or another. I buried my face in the plush toy’s belly, feeling an unbearable heaviness in my heart. I still hadn’t received any messages or calls from him. In the past, whenever we argued, he would act as if it were a major crisis, desperate to appear before me and apologize immediately. I began to wonder if love could fade.

After a hasty dinner, I composed myself and headed for my night shift. During a break, I received a message from one of the nurses. “Emily didn’t come to work either.” This seemingly random message prompted me to check Emily’s Instagram again. Her latest post was from dinnertime. There were two photos attached. The first showed her foot in a protective boot. The second was the back view of a man busy in the kitchen. The familiar silhouette wore the same shirt I had bought for Jason just last week while we were out shopping. The caption read: “Injured and can’t move around easily, but thankfully someone’s here to help out, even taking me to the hospital! (flower emoji)”

I first met Emily three months ago. That day, we crossed paths outside the operating room. Next to Jason was a petite girl with a cute face, her head lowered, looking both aggrieved and defiant. The exposed skin of her neck was snow-white. Jason was speaking to her with a hint of amusement in his voice. “How could you get into an argument with a patient’s family? If I hadn’t happened to come by, you, a young girl, could have been in trouble.” I looked at him. As if sensing my gaze, he raised his head and met my eyes. The girl tugged at Jason’s white coat, her eyes on me. “You must be Rachel. Everyone in the department knows Jason has a beautiful girlfriend.” She said this dramatically while tugging on Jason. “Jason, you’re so lucky.” “Rachel, let’s add each other on SnapChat. I like you already!” Seeing such a bubbly personality in this young girl, I smiled without saying anything, giving Jason a questioning look. “This is Emily, a new medical intern. She’s not from our school,” Jason introduced, while pulling his white coat back with a look of annoyance. “She’s always so hyper. Don’t mind her.” Out of courtesy, we ended up adding each other on SnapChat.

After Jason and I moved in together, apart from takeout and cafeteria food, I was the one who cooked. Jason didn’t like cooking and couldn’t make much beyond instant noodles. He rarely even entered the kitchen. My heart ached, throbbing painfully. It seemed the air around me had grown thin. It turns out, some things aren’t about ability, but about willingness. In third grade, I was sent to spend the summer at my grandmother’s house. Being a mischievous age, I quickly became close friends with the neighborhood kids. It was during this time that I met Jason. I couldn’t ride a bicycle and couldn’t keep up with the other kids. Jason volunteered to teach me, but I ended up crashing into him and knocking out one of his newly replaced permanent teeth – the right canine. His mouth was full of blood, but he still tried to comfort me as I wailed in fear. Our crying attracted the adults from both families. The doctor said that fortunately, there was still a tooth bud, so a new one would grow. He started crying, holding my hand, because he was afraid of looking ugly. With Mrs. Sullivan’s consolation, I compromised and promised to marry him when we grew up as compensation. After that, I spent most of my holidays at Jason’s house next door.

I sent Jason a message, mentioning a breakup. Soon after, the screen lit up. “Rachel, don’t be silly. There’s really nothing going on between Emily and me. Let me explain when I get back.” He didn’t even call. In the past, what I loved most about Jason was the sense of security he gave me. He was gentle and emotionally stable. He would always be concerned about my feelings. In the second semester of our freshman year, after a club activity dinner, a senior girl finished a bottle of beer and turned red from her ears to her neck, as if her entire head was radiating heat. She stammered out a confession to Jason. The video of the confession was shared in the group chat. Less than half an hour later, Jason appeared at the entrance of my dormitory building, out of breath and flushed. I looked at him, puzzled. He held my hand, his palm burning hot, his voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t accept her confession. I didn’t know she liked me.” “I saw the message in the group chat and couldn’t help but worry.” “I… I was afraid you might misunderstand my relationship with her.” His tone was urgent, his words jumbled. The burning intensity in his eyes, illuminated by the streetlights, melted into my heart. After saying this, Jason gently rested his head on my shoulder. “Rachel, I feel dizzy.” Later, he was still carried to the emergency room by a passing senior student for an IV drip. He already had a high fever of over 102°F, and the run had only worsened his condition. After he recovered, we officially got together. It was him who pursued me so passionately back then, and now it was also him who hurt me. I slumped exhaustedly into the chair in the on-call room. Opening my phone again, I saw that Emily had sent me a SnapChat message. “I’m sorry, Rachel. Jason and I will come to explain everything to you tomorrow.” “Rachel, you know I really like you. Night shift must be tough, I’ve ordered some fruit delivery for you. Don’t be angry.”

I hadn’t even touched the fruit when the on-call phone started ringing. In the second half of the night, our department admitted six patients, including one critical case. The entire night shift team was as busy as spinning tops. This night shift, I became infamous as the “busiest” in the entire department. It would be hard to find partners for future night shifts. After the shift ended, I dragged my exhausted steps out. Just as I stepped out of the department doors, I saw Emily. Her foot in the protective boot gently tapped the ground, her whole being beautiful and fragile. Jason was gentlemanly holding out his arm, bent at the elbow, and Emily had one arm resting on it, transferring half her weight to him. The coming and going of patients’ families and colleagues at the entrance highlighted how well-matched they looked as a handsome man and a beautiful woman. This scene was clearly displayed before me. I lifted my foot to leave. Hearing the sound, Jason looked up at me, his lips twitching slightly as he awkwardly lowered his arm. “I accidentally slipped on the stairs and sprained my ankle. I really couldn’t find anyone else to bring me to the hospital. I’m sorry for causing trouble for you two.” My mood was truly awful. I didn’t respond and continued walking towards the elevator. Jason grabbed my wrist. He had an impatient look, as if I was being unreasonable. “Isn’t this explanation enough? Are you still angry?” He gripped tightly, and I couldn’t shake him off. Instead, I felt the pain in my wrist bone intensifying. He sighed softly, let go, and opened his arms, taking a step forward to embrace me. “Ah!” Emily fell to the ground. Jason instinctively let go of me and moved a step towards her. I didn’t want to continue this entanglement, losing face in front of my own department, from patients to their families, and even colleagues.

Jason didn’t chase after me. Back home, despite not having slept all night, I still couldn’t fall asleep. When we first rented the apartment, he insisted on not letting me split the rent with him. Now I had no choice but to move out. Every item in the room had been carefully selected by me – cups, toothbrushes, slippers… I had tried to choose couple sets for everything. After packing everything up, I left without hesitation, following the moving company staff. Sitting in the moving company’s truck, I felt utterly exhausted. It seemed as if half of my soul had been left behind in that rented apartment. I rang the doorbell at home, and my stepmother opened the door, looking happy to see me. Before she could say anything, her smile froze as she saw the luggage behind me. She gently set down the dumplings she was holding and asked with concern, “Haven’t you eaten yet? Come, have some.” She sat down across from me with my father. “Why didn’t you call ahead if you were coming back to stay? You haven’t been back for so long, we haven’t even tidied up your room.” I ate the dumplings in silence. This home didn’t belong to me; I felt more like a guest. So I planned to find a suitable place and move out again as soon as possible. “Did you have a fight with Jason?” my father asked, looking at me. “We broke up.” “What nonsense are you up to? Jason has always been so accommodating to you, and he’s so dedicated to his studies and work. Girls should be gentle and understanding. Learn from him a bit.” In my father’s eyes, I was always the one causing trouble. It seemed it had always been this way. After the college entrance exam, my father followed my stepmother’s advice and secretly changed my application choices, causing me to miss out on my dream school. I had a huge fight with him, insisting on retaking the exam. “Why does a girl need to study at such a demanding school? Just take it easy, stay close to us, and we’ll find you a good match to marry in the future. Wouldn’t that be a nice life?” I was shocked and incredulous that I could hear such opinions in this day and age. My stepmother chimed in: “Rachel, your dad has put so much thought into planning for you. Don’t upset him.” “I don’t need your fake kindness. You just hope I won’t succeed so that dad won’t pass on the family business to me!” I hadn’t finished speaking when a hard slap landed on my face. With half my face swollen, I ran back to my grandmother’s house. Grandma held me, trembling with anger. She said my future couldn’t be ruined by the two of them, and she would make the decision for me. Even on a July night, it was still hot. Jason sat with me in the yard. He handed me an ice-cold Coke, one hand gently stroking my back, not saying a word, as if trying to brush away all my grievances. After finishing the Coke, he finally spoke softly, “My scores this year weren’t ideal either. I’m also going back to retake the exam.” I looked at him, and he smiled, revealing that little canine tooth that had grown back. At that moment, I thought, maybe my parents didn’t care about my feelings, but Jason would. After a quick wash, I went out to look at apartments. The real estate agent rode his little electric scooter, carrying me around until it was dark. Finally, we found a suitable place near the hospital. After a day and a night, I was exhausted to the point of collapse. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I received a SnapChat message from Emily. “If I’ve done anything to make you misunderstand, I apologize.” I didn’t want to reply to her anymore. In my half-asleep state, she sent another message, “Jason only helped me because he saw I was pitiful here alone. There’s nothing between us.” I couldn’t help but check her Instagram again. This time, there was an additional post about her visit to Disneyland, dated a month ago.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294703”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #擦边Steamy

My aunt Lisa and I teamed up and bought a house for my mom. Mom immediately posted three updates on Facebook, each one filled with photo albums. “My daughters bought me a house, can you believe it? Look at this huge yard! Three stories!” “Oh my God, this place has three bathrooms! Now I’ll have to decide which one is most convenient when I need to pee!” “What do you think? My girls aren’t bad, huh? So, Facebook friends, have your sons bought you a house yet?” She gleefully tagged every relative in each post. Especially Uncle Jim, Aunt Barb, Uncle John, and Aunt Karen. She didn’t leave anyone out! Her motto was “sharing the love equally.” My grandma and mom had kids on the same day. In rural Appalachia back then, that kind of thing was a scandal. Everyone in town would whisper about it behind your back. But my grandma didn’t care. When Lisa was born, she wasn’t breathing well, her face blue from lack of oxygen. Apparently, my grandma took one look, called her “ugly,” and left her by the door. Mom had just given birth to me, and with her motherly instincts in overdrive, she couldn’t resist the sound of a baby crying. She picked up Lisa, brought her inside, and started feeding her. My dad and grandpa heard about the birth and rushed home from the construction site in their truck. Unfortunately, they didn’t make it. Just before reaching home, they crashed into a ditch and both died on the spot. When my aunt Karen and grandma found out, they stormed into the room where Mom was recovering. They snatched me and Lisa, cursing us as jinxes. “These two cursed us! They killed our father and brother! We should drown them in the river!” Mom was the best seamstress in town. She wasn’t just skilled; she was strong too. Even though she was recovering from childbirth, she wasn’t weak. She grabbed Lisa out of Aunt Karen’s arms, put her back in the crib, and kicked Aunt Karen right in the chest. Karen was left gasping for air, unable to speak. Mom then turned to my grandma, who was about to say something, and snapped, “Get out! It’s bad enough that you’re sharing postpartum with your daughter-in-law. Now you’re coming to my room to cause trouble?” Mom and Dad had just married. They were in the honeymoon phase, deeply in love. Losing him so suddenly broke her heart, but life didn’t allow her to show any weakness. She knew crying during recovery could harm her eyesight, and as a seamstress, bad eyes would end her career. She raised two kids by herself and pushed through the postpartum period, even though Dad’s family treated her horribly. Luckily, she had a lot of friends in the community, and they came over to help out. Aunt Karen and Grandma tried to stir up trouble, but Mom eventually put a sickle under the bed. After that, they finally left her alone.

But the peace didn’t last long. Once Mom recovered from giving birth, Uncle Rick and Aunt Debbie showed up first, claiming they had paid to build the house. They said that once Grandma and Grandpa were gone, the house should belong to them. They threw Mom’s bedding off the bed and told her to leave. Then Uncle John and Aunt Karen followed right behind, worried they wouldn’t get a piece of the house if they were too late. They said that since the farmland was divided among the sons, and since Dad had died, his portion of the land should now go to the remaining men in the family. Aunt Karen was the loudest, even though it had nothing to do with her. She was the typical bossy woman of the countryside, always sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. I realized that later, when Grandma needed care in her old age, and Karen showed her true colors. When Mom left Grandma’s house with us, she only took a small bag of clothes. They wouldn’t even let her take a single cup. Neighbors gathered outside. Some were there to watch the drama, others shouted at Grandma’s family for being so heartless. The yard was packed with onlookers. Grandma stood there, hands on her hips, shouting, “Why do any of you care? Let’s see how Maggie and her brats survive out there!” And with that, she threw Lisa out of bed again. “You wanted to take her so bad, you take her! If you hadn’t interfered back then, she would’ve frozen to death, and I wouldn’t have had to raise this useless girl! I don’t take care of daughters; they’re a bad investment!” Mom just kept walking, carrying me on her back. She never looked back until she heard Lisa’s sharp cries behind her, along with Grandma’s curses. Unable to bear it any longer, Mom ran back, grabbed Lisa, and carried both of us away. The bag of clothes? She didn’t even bother with it.

Mom’s family lived nearby, just a 30-minute walk according to her. So, anything happening with Dad’s family reached them pretty quickly. When we arrived at Uncle Jim and Aunt Barb’s, the door was locked. It was a clear message: We weren’t welcome. Grandma Mildred couldn’t do much. She just sighed, looking at the two children Mom had brought back with her. With nowhere else to go, we returned to Dad’s hometown. There was a small shack near Grandma’s house, one Dad had built when he worked at a nearby fishing pond. Aunt Karen wanted to claim it too, but Mr. Gregory Smith, the town councilor, stepped in. “That shack belongs to Maggie’s husband. Everyone here knows it. Now that he’s gone, it’s all she and her kids have. If you try to take it, you’ll bring down a curse on yourselves.” And so, we finally had a place to stay. It was rundown, but it kept the rain off our heads. Everything in the house, from the furniture to the decorations, was made by Mom’s own hands. Her hands, once so skilled, were now covered in callouses and cuts. With sheer determination, Mom raised me and Aunt Lisa, even though life was tough. But somehow, she managed to get us through it. When it was time to register us for Social Security numbers, Mom didn’t make a big deal out of it. She just told the clerk we were sisters, and both of us ended up with her last name: Johnson. Sarah and I were about six when we finally pieced together the full story from all the town gossip. But neither of us ever asked Mom to confirm any of it. Hardship isn’t worth remembering; once you get past it, you move on. That’s why Sarah and I were extra responsible kids. By the time we were six, we were already doing household chores while other kids our age were still playing. Sometimes, Grandma would see us and send us to help out Uncle Rick and Uncle John’s families. She’d say, “We’re all family.” Whenever that happened, Mom would curse them out the next day until they were bald from stress. Mom didn’t have fancy revenge tactics, but she knew how to make a point. She’d purposely trip and spill manure in front of Grandma’s house or “accidentally” divert water from their rice paddies, leaving them half empty. Later, Aunt Debbie died at home during childbirth while trying for a second baby, hoping for a son. Out of curiosity, I peeked into the doorway for a moment, and Grandma stormed out and slapped me across the face. “You little jinx! I knew it! The reason Debbie couldn’t give birth was because you were standing here!”

I got slapped and didn’t dare say much when I got home. With a bright red handprint on my face, I spent the next few days avoiding Mom, terrified she’d notice. Mom was too busy trying to keep Sarah and me fed and clothed to notice anyway. But avoiding my sister Sarah? That was impossible. We shared everything—food, chores, and space. She was braver than me and dragged me straight over to Grandma’s house, ready to confront her. We barely got a few words out before we saw our cousin Rachel running out of Uncle Rick’s house, crying her eyes out. Grandma followed behind with a shovel, screaming, “Cry, cry, cry! All you ever do is cry! You killed your mother with your crying! You’ve got a baby brother now, so stop acting like you’re at a funeral all the time!” For better or worse, Aunt Debbie was gone, but the baby boy she had was undeniably beautiful. Even Mom couldn’t help but take a second look when she passed by. When she got home, she said to us, “The baby’s cute, no doubt about it, but he sure got unlucky being born into the Johnson family.” Not even two months later, Sarah and I came home from kindergarten and saw Grandma standing at our front door, with Rachel holding her baby brother in her arms. Sarah, who always had a sharp eye for trouble, threw our backpacks inside and grabbed my hand, ready to head back out and play. Grandma, as usual, started yelling, “Play, play, play! That’s all you two ever do! You come home from school, and you don’t even help with your baby brother!” Sarah shot back without missing a beat, “He’s not my brother. Why should I take care of him? If you want me to babysit, I’m charging for it!” After a while, we came back to cook dinner, only to find someone else at the door—Mrs. Ann Davis, the town’s notorious busybody. She was famous for matchmaking anyone and anything—she could probably even marry off two stray dogs. She tried asking Sarah a couple of questions, but when she realized Sarah was a tough nut to crack, she turned to me instead. “Emily, don’t you want a daddy?” I pointed at the framed picture of my dad hanging in the living room and said, confused, “I have a dad.” She gave me a smile and said, “Not that kind of daddy, sweetie. I mean one who can help your mom out and protect you from bullies.” I pointed at Sarah, who was washing rice in the kitchen. “No thanks, I’ve got a sister. She can do all that.”

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My mother always wanted a son, so she adopted the son of a distant widowed relative. I warned her, “That family is full of ungrateful people. You can’t raise a child like that to be loyal.” She stubbornly refused to believe me and even sent me to live with a neighbor while she raised him. Later, whenever my brother misbehaved, my mom would yell at him, “Your sister was right. Bad seeds produce bad fruit. You’re nothing but a curse. I was blind to choose you over my own daughter.” My brother harbored resentment and, when no one was around, set a fire that led to my tragic death. When I opened my eyes again, my mother was visiting her son at the widow’s house. I gently said to my mom, “If you like him, go ahead and raise him.” After my death, the police questioned my brother, “Where were you when the victim died?” My brother patiently replied, “I was at home having dinner with my parents. They can vouch for me!” He winked at my parents. My father said sorrowfully, “He was with us at home that day. My daughter hadn’t been in touch with us for a long time.” My mother remained silent throughout, nodding along blankly. The police asked my father a few more questions, and he started complaining. “That girl was so ungrateful. All these years, she only cared about work and never visited us. Now she had to die away from home. How are we supposed to face our relatives?” My brother, unusually obedient, promised my father that without me, he would be twice as filial to our parents. Everyone present was moved by his show of devotion. In the end, the investigation concluded it was an accidental fire caused by old wiring. I watched as my charred, deformed body was carelessly placed on the ground by my family. At that moment, my brother angrily walked over and kicked my corpse several times, scattering the blackened bones. “You bitch! Your big mouth got me beaten and scolded so many times. Today, I, the ‘bad seed,’ am paying you back with interest. Die without a proper burial!” My father quickly pulled him away. “That’s enough. The relatives from our hometown will be here soon to offer condolence money.” My mother stared blankly at the ground, muttering, “In your next life, may you be born into a good family and be a cherished child.”

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my mother took me to pick up my brother. The widowed relative, Fiona, was pushing a dirty little boy towards us. “Child, this is your mom and sister. You’ll have everything you want at their house. It’s much better than staying with me.” The little boy immediately started crying and rolling on the ground. “I don’t want to go! You’re all lying to me! I want to be an only child. I don’t want a sister!” My mother laughed, bending over with amusement. “This little guy is so smart. He’s already fighting for attention before even coming home. But you have to come home with me first.” The boy suddenly stopped crying and pointed at me, asking my mother, “Choose her or me? You can only pick one!” Without hesitation, my mother coaxed him, “I choose you! We don’t need a sister.” The boy quickly pushed away from his mother and obediently took my mother’s hand. My mother excitedly asked me, “What do you think? Isn’t he adorable?” Suppressing my intense hatred, I replied understandingly, “Mom, if you like him, go ahead and raise him.” In my previous life, after giving birth to me, my mother couldn’t conceive again. She was obsessed with having a son, believing that only a son could provide security in her old age, no matter how much I tried to reassure her. She wanted to adopt this child from our relative. I advised my mother that if she wanted a son, she should adopt from an orphanage. This relative’s family was known for causing trouble and fighting. Bringing home an eight or nine-year-old boy would surely lead to problems. My mother wouldn’t listen. She firmly believed that a child with some blood relation would be better. But it was this child, whom my mother thought was perfectly suitable, who always caused trouble and turned our home into chaos. Back then, my mother would beat and scold my brother, saying, “Your sister was right. Bad seeds produce bad fruit. You’re nothing but a curse. I was blind to choose you over my own daughter.” He would glare at me viciously each time, his eyes like those of a wolf ready to tear me apart. Until I discovered he had stolen our house deed, and after an argument with him, on New Year’s Eve, he set fire to my rented apartment, burning me alive. No matter how much I begged and struggled, no one came to save me. In this life, I will make sure everyone pays the price.

After returning home. My mother put my brother’s luggage directly into my room. She carelessly said to me, “Lyra, you’re the older sister. From now on, you have to give your brother the best of everything. He’s suffered a lot in the past, and now that he’s come to our family, we should make him feel the warmth of home.” My brother followed my mother into the room smugly. I, on the other hand, was forced to move into the storage room with my grandmother’s memorial tablet. In my previous life, I had made a big fuss about this at home. My mother said I was selfish and accused me of not understanding her and my brother. She even said outright that I was a daughter who would eventually marry out, and only my brother would be there to support them and care for them in their old age. She told me I should always be grateful to my brother. After several arguments, she even sent me to live with the neighbor, claiming that since my father was always away on business trips, she couldn’t take care of two children alone. Living under someone else’s roof, I couldn’t eat or sleep well. A child with a home lived like an orphan. This time, I didn’t argue or make a fuss. I accepted being an outsider. After my brother came to our home, my father returned once and gave him some pocket money. To bond with my brother, my mother was incredibly attentive, waiting on him hand and foot. She even carried him to the bathroom when he needed to pee at night. Whatever my brother wanted, she fulfilled. He got the best of everything – clothes, food, housing, and transportation. He went from feeling uncomfortable to taking it all for granted. I, on the other hand, was neglected. Learning from my past life’s lessons, I had already planned everything for myself and started working part-time jobs while studying to earn money. My brother was also enrolled in the city’s most famous private boarding school, thanks to my parents’ substantial financial investment. On the day we sent him to school, my mother asked me to make his bed and organize his clothes. She held my brother’s hand reluctantly, instructing him to study hard at school. Thinking about his troublemaking nature from my past life, I calmly waited for the show to begin. Sure enough, trouble arose after just a few days.

When I arrived at the school, my mother was fiercely shielding my brother, arguing with another parent. My mother was cursing loudly, “You bitch, how dare you hit my son! Kids play rough sometimes. At most, I’ll pay for the medical expenses!” The other parent, a woman, was so angry her eyes were bloodshot and she was on the verge of tears. “Is that how a human being talks? My son is the victim here. That big iron bead could have been sucked into his lungs and killed him! I’m telling you, I won’t let this go. I’m going to file a complaint! I’ll make sure your son, that little monster, gets expelled!” The teacher was stuck in the middle, trying to mediate. It turned out that during recess, my brother had stuffed two iron beads into his deskmate’s nostrils. By the time the teacher discovered it, the child had already passed out. Shocked by this, my mother heard my brother’s sobbing behind her. He said pitifully, “He called me a wild child adopted by mom and dad.” My mother became even more furious and started pulling the other parent’s hair. The woman didn’t back down and grabbed my mother’s clothes, ready to fight back. I felt someone pull me from behind, and I took a hard slap meant for my mother. The pain made me dizzy, and my nose started bleeding immediately. Later, the woman received a phone call, probably saying her child was okay. My mother used the excuse that both I and my brother had been hurt by her to settle the matter with just some medical expenses. Afterwards, my mother sternly criticized my brother, telling him never to do such dangerous things to his classmates again. To show her punishment, she directly deducted his pocket money for the month. My mother didn’t notice my discomfort at all and complained to me, “How did your brother become so mischievous? He seemed so well-behaved before.” I laughed coldly inside. This wasn’t mischief; this was my brother’s true nature. In my past life, he said doing such things was fun. I pretended to comfort her, “Mom, you should be glad. This isn’t mischief. It’s because he cares about you that he got angry at what his classmate said. He just chose the wrong way to retaliate.” My mother, hearing this explanation, actually found it reasonable. She looked at my brother with even more affection. I pulled my brother over and said to my mother, “Mom, he’s still young, just a child. Don’t deduct his pocket money. We’re not short on money. He should still have his allowance.” My brother, who had been sulking, suddenly spoke up, “Mom, I did it for you. If you really want to deduct money, take it from my sister’s allowance. I’m the only boy in this family. If you starve or tire me out, how will I take care of you in your old age!” Seeing that my brother was getting angry, my mother quickly hugged him and tried to calm him down. As for me, whom no one cared about, I had to go to the hospital alone because of my dizziness. After rushing around for several hours, when I saw the test results, I was stunned. What on earth was going on?

The incident with my brother at school ended up being just a minor episode. My mother, because of what my brother said, actually reduced my allowance by half and added it to his. I remained calm and didn’t object. Because my mother said, “The older sister should always give in to her younger brother.” Although the teacher would still occasionally contact my mother about my brother throwing someone’s backpack away, cutting someone’s clothes, or kicking over someone’s chair, my mother, under my persuasion, always turned a blind eye. As long as our own child wasn’t hurt, it was fine. My brother’s bottom line was gradually eroded with each incident. In the blink of an eye, I was about to graduate from college and enter my internship phase. While my classmates were busy looking for jobs, I had already saved enough money from my part-time jobs over the years to open a bustling bubble tea shop in the university district. When I received a call from home, I had just finished a day’s business and was happily counting the cash. My mother cried on the phone, “Lyra, please come back quickly and borrow some money to save your brother. Your brother, he…” It turned out that a classmate in my brother’s class had mocked him for being an adopted wild child. In a fit of teenage anger, my brother had beaten the boy unconscious. Now that boy was in the ICU, still not out of danger. The boy’s parents only had this one child. They refused any mediation and directly sued both my brother and the school. I comforted my mother for a bit and promised to return home immediately. Then I calmly dialed a familiar number. By the time I leisurely arrived at our front door, chaos had already erupted. Apparently, the injured boy’s family had come to make trouble, demanding medical expenses from my parents every day. They even threatened to send my brother to juvenile detention no matter what. My brother’s birth mother, Fiona, had arrived earlier than I expected. She was hugging my brother, crying and scolding my parents loudly, “I gave you my well-behaved son, and this is how you promised to take good care of him!” When my brother looked up and saw me, he seemed to see hope. He kept saying, “I can’t go to jail. I can’t go to jail. Let my sister take my place! I’m the boy in our family. I’m supposed to take care of mom and dad when they’re old. I can’t have anything happen to me!” After saying this, he looked at our parents with hopeful eyes, thinking this reason would move them. My mother scolded him with a pained expression, “Did you need to say that? It’s one thing to fight normally, but this time you went too far. You’re killing us! ” Hearing this, Fiona frowned and started arguing with my mother. My father, who had been silent, suddenly shouted, “Enough! Let’s quickly think of a way to raise money!” I came back from the bathroom to find everyone looking at me, waiting for me to produce some money. I sighed and took out a bankbook, handing it to my father. “Dad, I’m not working yet, so I really can’t come up with much. To save my brother, I can only reveal mom’s secret savings.”

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A social media influencer who invested in the production to get a role was throwing her weight around on my set, demanding more scenes. I’d had enough and kicked her off the crew. She immediately turned to Twitter to stir up drama, accusing me of bullying young actors. She even claimed to be the famous Miss Hartley, threatening to have her family blacklist me. As I looked at my cowering stepfather, I couldn’t help but smile in confusion: Since when did the Hartley family have another daughter?Just before the new drama started production, I, as the new director, created a group chat. I sent a message hoping to get to know the actors better over dinner that evening. However, half a day passed after sending the message, and except for a few crew members, there was no response from the male and female leads. At this point, my assistant William secretly messaged me. “Miss Quill, Wendy Hartley – our social media influencer female lead – created a group chat in advance. She said she wants to treat everyone to dinner tonight, but… she didn’t include you.” Before I could process what William meant by “didn’t include you,” I saw Wendy Hartley appear in a group named “aaa New Drama Good Luck”. She first posted a shopping photo, with a million-dollar diamond bracelet on her left wrist that nearly blinded me. Then her coquettish voice came through my phone. “Hey everyone, I’m out having fun and don’t have time to greet you all properly. Tonight I’m treating everyone to dinner at the Waldorf Astoria. The director should come too, or we might get food poisoning at some BBQ joint, right?” After this voice message, she seemed to think it wasn’t enough and added a flirtatious laugh. The previously quiet group suddenly became lively, with the male lead and second male lead suddenly appearing. “Trust Miss Hartley to do it right! Director, Miss Hartley has spoken, how can we not give her face?” “That’s right, director. The Waldorf is a place we couldn’t get into even if we had the money. Let’s give Miss Hartley the honor of our presence.” Seeing the compliments, the female lead became even more smug. Her delicate voice seemed to pierce through the screen. “Director, won’t you join us?” I was speechless. Originally, to reduce complications, I had refused my family’s offer to invite veteran actors for my domestic debut. Instead, I had carefully selected some promising young actors with decent acting skills – except for this Wendy Hartley, who was forced upon me by my investor. I never expected these young actors to be such sycophants. It’s just the Waldorf Astoria. If they wanted to go, I could easily arrange it myself. I zoomed in on the photo Wendy Hartley posted. The shimmering bracelet on her wrist had a hint of pink on the inner circle, with a small, understated “alio” engraving on the edge, looking both low-key and luxurious. This bracelet was from the 10th-anniversary collection of my mother’s design brand. There were only about 20 of them in existence, and their owners were either extremely wealthy or influential. I wondered which rich family’s daughter this Wendy Hartley was, coming to experience life as an actress. My eyes drifted back to the group chat. The second female lead, Stella, was fawning over Wendy… “Miss Hartley, about that new reality show your family invested in, where celebrities visit each other’s homes, could my boyfriend and I possibly be on it?” I choked on my water, coughing for a while before looking back at those words. Hartley family? Miss Hartley? If I remembered correctly, there was only one Hartley family of note in the entire country, and that was my family. When exactly did I get a sister?

My family is a business dynasty, and my mother, Luna Reeves, is a particularly brilliant business genius. In just 15 years, she expanded the Reeves family from a top domestic enterprise to an internationally formidable conglomerate. My father, Mr. Quill – I can’t quite remember his first name – was my mother’s young love. Although their marriage was a business arrangement, they did have a period of genuine affection. Later, my father developed stomach cancer and passed away when I was four, leaving my mother with me and a six-year-old brother. My brother took our mother’s surname, Reeves, while I kept our father’s surname, Quill. My brother made his debut in the entertainment industry years ago, playing the piano with extraordinary skill and winning numerous international awards. He’s the rich heir adored by socialites in the industry, though his high-profile romance and early commitment broke many hearts. Compared to him, I’ve been relatively low-key, studying abroad for years to prepare for taking over the company. Filmmaking is just my personal hobby, and although I’ve submitted a few indie films to film festivals, they didn’t make much of a splash domestically. This led to a persistent rumor that my brother and I weren’t close and had barely even met. After we came of age, our mother found a new love interest. He was ten years younger than her and quite handsome. Although my brother and I didn’t particularly like him, and he often harbored inappropriate thoughts, we didn’t say anything as long as our mother was happy. This past year, my mother has been handling company business abroad, leaving only our stepfather, Henry Hartley, in the country. His influence has been growing, and some people in the company even call him “Mr. Hartley.” I’ve warned him a few times, but he hasn’t shown any restraint. I looked at Wendy Hartley’s age on her resume – hmm, she’s actually two years older than me. Unless there’s been some time travel involved, there’s no way she could be a child my stepfather and mother had in the past couple of years. I then thought about the investor who had pushed Wendy Hartley into the cast – a small-time entertainment company boss who’s been on the rise these past few years, showing signs of overshadowing Reeves Corp in the entertainment sector. Interestingly, he’s my stepfather’s nephew. Things suddenly became much more intriguing. Wendy Hartley was still bragging in the group chat, showing off various luxury skincare products, a small villa full of flowers, and a closet of haute couture dresses. I chuckled to myself, realizing that some of these items were mine, and others belonged to my sister-in-law. I wondered if my neat-freak sister-in-law would freak out seeing these photos. I screenshotted everything she posted in the group and sent it to my brother. Seeing the message status showing “typing” for a while, I didn’t pay much attention. We had a scene to shoot today, and I didn’t have much time to deal with these matters. This drama is an adaptation of the well-known IP “Rain Lotus Pavilion.” There’s been a rumor online that it was written by a famous author’s secret account, but actually, it was the first novel I ever wrote. I’m very particular about its adaptation, personally selecting several screenwriters. Every script they’ve handled has never scored below 8 points online. At this moment, however, one of the screenwriters approached me with a troubled expression. “Director Quill, I was thinking of changing the female lead’s background from an orphan of a martial arts family to a young lady from a family of equal status to the male lead… You know, these days, people are into stories about couples from similar backgrounds, right? Even though we’re working with a big IP, we still need to keep up with the trends, don’t we?” I casually flipped through the script the screenwriter handed me. My original female lead, Luo Qing, was a proud and determined woman who infiltrated the male lead’s family as a maid to avenge her clan’s blood feud. They had turned her into a pampered little wife, doted on by the male lead, second male lead, and third male lead. At the end of the script, to balance things out, they even paired off the second and third male leads with the female lead’s best friend and boss. I closed the script, vividly imagining scenes of the female lead pouting, glaring, and stomping her feet. My face turned green. “…Who told you to make these changes?” I asked. Seeing my anger, the screenwriter didn’t seem bothered. He put on an indifferent expression. “Director Quill, do you know who the investor for our drama is?” “It’s the Hartley family! Although you’ve won a few small awards internationally, the Hartley family isn’t someone a small-time director like you can afford to offend. If we make Miss Hartley unhappy this time, we might all end up out of work.” He arrogantly tossed the script in front of me. “Since Miss Hartley wanted the script changed, we have to follow her wishes!” I really didn’t expect that in the 21st century, there would still be this kind of new-age lackey. I couldn’t help but laugh out of anger. “Fine, fine, fine. So none of you want to do a good job, is that it?” “Then let’s replace everyone. All of you.”

Unexpectedly, after this incident, I ended up being exposed online. Wendy Hartley posted a video update. In the video, a pale-faced girl with a tearful expression questioned why I wouldn’t let her act, and she even took screenshots of yesterday’s chat out of context, implying that I was jealous of her status as a Hartley family member. The comments below were a spectacle. Several people even came forward claiming to be my college classmates, subtly insulting me as a child from a single-parent family with a twisted mentality. “She’s just jealous that Wendy Hartley has a happy and complete family, and she’s beautiful too.” “Shameless, Zara Quill is such a shameless bitch.” “I heard she was kept by someone, that’s how she got the director’s position. How else could a small-time director like her get the script for ‘Rain Lotus Pavilion’? It’s just a shame for the female lead I love, I hope she won’t be filmed by someone like this.” The comments were full of flying rumors. Of course, there were also some voices supporting me, but Wendy Hartley’s fans were too strong, and those voices were quickly drowned out in the tide. #InternationallyRenownedDirectorBulliesNewActress# #RainLotusPavilionDirectorRuns# #HartleyHeiressWendyHartley# Early the next morning, I saw these trending topics blazing across social media, along with 99+ unreadable messages in my inbox. Just as I was about to post a statement to explain, my brother’s call came through. “Little Zara, why aren’t you replying to messages?” My brother Lachlan Reeves’ deep voice came through the phone speaker. “What happened yesterday?” “Bro, check the trending topics,” I said. After a moment, the pretend-deep voice on the other end couldn’t keep up the act anymore. “Ahhh! Where did I get a second sister from?! I’m going to post on Twitter right now and call her out for riding on our coattails.” Imagining his exasperated expression, I couldn’t help but laugh. Suddenly remembering the investor who had brought Wendy Hartley in, an idea struck me. I quickly stopped him, “Bro, listen to me.” I told him my plan. After hearing it, Lachlan wasn’t angry anymore. He clapped his hands and laughed heartily, completely losing the image of the elegant young master that the outside world saw him as. Finally, his voice carried a hint of coldness. “If this has nothing to do with our stepfather, that would be best. If it does have something to do with him, I just hope mother won’t be heartbroken.” I posted a statement as usual, clarifying what had happened on set that day. However, it was clear that few people believed me. Wendy Hartley’s fans continued to mock and stir up trouble in the comments, saying that I, an orphan, was jealous of the Hartley family’s young miss, and even shouted that I would face retribution in the future. I simply turned off my phone, out of sight, out of mind. At this moment, a notification from one of my special follows popped up. “@LachlanReeves: Don’t bully my sister, she just came back to the country and it’s not easy for her on her own.” Immediately after, a retweet appeared on my homepage from Wendy Hartley. She posted a few crying emojis, followed by a “Thank you, brother.” I could imagine Wendy Hartley’s expression as she posted this tweet, and I couldn’t help but retch a few times. Ugh, I wonder if Lachlan was disgusted by this. Lachlan’s tweet seemed to confirm Wendy Hartley’s identity. The comments under my post from Wendy Hartley’s fans became even more arrogant. “You bad woman, how dare you bully Wendy Hartley.” “Apologize to Wendy Hartley right now!” I didn’t care about the attitude of her fans. I looked with some amusement at the missed call notification from a contact labeled “Stepfather” on my phone. He must have seen the comments online and wanted to test my attitude. I didn’t respond to him, putting the phone aside and closing my eyes to rest. The fish was about to take the bait. It was time for the angler to relax a bit.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294700”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #擦边Steamy

In my previous life, my biological parents sent me to a mental asylum for the sake of their adopted daughter, leaving me to be trampled upon. I ended up paralyzed, with festering wounds, dying with hatred in my heart. When I opened my eyes again, I decided to go crazy and destroy everyone! I was reborn, right at the family dinner where my biological parents had brought me back home. In my previous life, my scumbag father and mother only recognized me when I was almost of age, wanting to get their hands on the inheritance my grandfather had left for me. They found me lacking and unrefined. On the surface, we appeared to be a happy family, but behind closed doors, neither my father nor mother truly cared for me. They emotionally manipulated me, living a lavish lifestyle on my money. Based on a single comment from their adopted daughter Sophia Carter, they even sent me to a mental asylum. In the end, I was paralyzed, lying in bed with festering wounds, starving to death. This time around, I’m going to abandon any notion of family ties and take back everything that’s rightfully mine. Suddenly, I felt a cool breeze under my skirt! I collected myself and realized I was standing just outside the kitchen door, holding a chicken in my left hand and a duck in my right, with a chubby kid crawling under my skirt! This shameless little brat was sent by Sophia! In my previous life, Sophia, under the guise of having our parents eat the freshest ingredients, specifically bought live chickens and ducks for me to slaughter, claiming it showed filial piety as a daughter. Not only did she make me smell like bird droppings at my own welcome dinner, but she also encouraged a distant relative’s child to play a prank while I was working in the kitchen. They took upskirt photos of me and spread them in the family group chat, making me a laughingstock. My parents already looked down on me, and after this incident, they openly favored Sophia even more. This time, as soon as the brat hugged my leg, I kicked him away, sending him flying about 6 feet. Ahhh— The kid let out a scream, and while everyone rushed to check on him, I finally had a moment to clear my head. Everyone came running at the sound, and the little brat was lying on the ground, wailing to his mother. “Lydia! Have you gone mad?” my mother’s voice rang out before I could say anything. I’m not mad! In my previous life, I was a well-behaved, sensible, and cultured child, yet they still sent me to a mental hospital. Sophia, afraid that our parents might change their minds and bring me back, had bribed the mental hospital to torture me to death! Every day, they took me for electroshock therapy, sending electric currents through my body until my skin was charred and broken. Then they would take me for hydrotherapy, locking me in an ice-filled bathtub for entire afternoons! In the end, I was set up to become completely paralyzed, my body rotting and stinking, living like a wild dog. Who wouldn’t go crazy after all that? Not only am I going crazy, but I’m also going to crawl in the shadows, scream, howl like a ghost, scurry across the ceiling, writhe in distorted ways, turn into a monkey, attack anyone who passes by indiscriminately, and destroy everyone in my path! “He was being a pervert, crawling under my skirt, and you’re saying I overreacted?” I retorted. “He’s just a little boy, what’s wrong with peeking under your skirt? If you dare to dress like that, why can’t others look? Why wear it if you don’t want people to see?” my sharp-tongued Aunt Karen shouted. “He’s only a teenager, how could you hit him?” the boy’s mother protested, hugging him. “It’s not like looking at you would make you lose a piece of flesh! Can’t you learn from your sister?” my mother chimed in. “Yes, sister, you’re being too rough!” Sophia added with fake concern. The group started chattering like a flock of ducks, and some even wanted to hit me. Damn, I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to punch the earth and make it explode!

One can’t be too normal in life. Endure for a moment, get breast hyperplasia; take a step back, get uterine fibroids; hold it in once, get ovarian cysts; curse once, and the world is your oyster! I rolled my shoulders, then threw the chicken and duck I was holding at the approaching people. Chaos erupted instantly. Since they’re all going to die anyway, why not let me destroy them! “Why am I wearing a skirt? To dance on your grave at your funeral party!” I lunged forward, grabbing two handfuls of Aunt Karen’s hair. “Come on, I’m just a kid too. You can’t hit me back, right?” Upper cut, lower cut, left hook, right hook, followed by a sweeping kick, tripping the boy’s mother and giving her a good beating, turning her face into a pig’s head. And as for my mother, “Looking won’t make you lose a piece of flesh, so let me take a look at yours!” With a loud rip, I tore her dress apart and started taking photos under her skirt with my phone, click after click. Oh ho— Sexy underwear, my eyes lit up. Let’s tear some more! Playing it wild, huh? I was as excited as a howling female gorilla. By the way, I shouted: “You’re so slutty!” Seeing this scene, Sophia was dumbfounded, not understanding why I, who had always been meek and obedient, had become so crazy. She trembled as she backed away. Seeing her reaction, I grabbed her by the collar. “You little bastard, hatching turtle eggs, are you trying to be like your mom?” “Sophia, dear sister! Let me show you just how rough I can be!” She had barely let out a scream when I grabbed a duck that was casually strolling by and introduced it to her face. Except, it was her face meeting the duck’s butt. The duck delivered, leaving a pile of poop on her face. I was very satisfied. The dead kid was still wailing half-alive over there. I decided to give him a grand gift. Eyeing the bag of crawfish, I had an excellent idea. You like crawling under girls’ skirts at such a young age? I’ll let you crawl to your heart’s content! I grabbed the biggest one, walked up to him, pulled open his pants, put the crawfish in, and tied the string in a tight knot. The movements were smooth and swift, done in one go. Hehe, let’s catch a little bird. A piercing scream rang out, and he actually fainted, clutching his crotch. “Tsk tsk tsk,” I shook my head. This won’t do. “You dare to make such a scene. Wait until Dad comes, he’ll beat you to death!” Sophia said, and my fists clenched again. “Before he arrives, I’ll finish you off first.” I rushed over and slapped her face left and right, smack smack smack, giving her several hard slaps. Her face was so thick, it hurt my hand. Tch, this won’t do. I need to find a slipper. I looked around and found that the pair on my mother’s feet would do nicely. Just as I was struggling to take off the shoe, my father arrived.

“What, what are you all doing?!” “Is this a marketplace?” He stood before the crowd, his eyes wide, his face red with anger, veins popping on his forehead. Hearing his voice, I paused, immediately messed up my hair into a bird’s nest, then screeched at him like a ghost. Being crazy feels good for a moment, being crazy all the time feels good forever. Since you don’t treat me like a human, I’ll drag everyone down with me. “Dad, Mom is wearing sexy underwear and wants to do a striptease.” Hearing me say this, everyone looked at my mother. She was flustered, unable to cover her exposed white thighs. Perhaps unable to bear everyone’s scrutiny, her eyes reddened, and she ran out crying. As she ran, she lost her last piece of clothing covering her modesty. Some mischievous onlookers whistled at her, their gazes towards my father clearly saying, “You’ve been cuckolded!” Bad news, my mom’s running around naked. Good news, I’m the one who made it happen. “Mom, don’t go! You left your bra here…” I shouted loudly at my mother while frantically waving her bra. I didn’t hold it well, and splat, it landed on my dad’s face. “Lydia!” My father gripped his fist tightly, his voice trembling, “What are you doing!” I spread my hands innocently, “Hehe, my hand slipped.” Sophia, with her swollen pig face, sidled up to him, “Dad, I’ve been annoyed with her for a long time. Hurry up and beat her to death!” My father was almost bursting with anger, “Insulting your mother, beating your sister! Do you have any shame left?” In one ear and out the other, I replied, “If you can’t stand me, why don’t you just die? Why bother scolding me?”

He pointed at me, “You, you, you… Do you believe I’ll send you back?” He was referring to my adoptive parents’ home. Years ago, I was kidnapped by human traffickers and sold to a family in a nearby village who had a mentally challenged son. They had grand plans of buying a girl to raise from childhood and then marrying her off to their son when she grew up. So from a young age, I was treated like an animal by that family. In summer, I had to work in the fields with my adoptive father under scorching temperatures; in winter, to save electricity for the family, I had to wash their clothes with ice-cold water drawn from the well. As a result, my eighteen-year-old hands had layers of calluses peeling off, looking like those of a forty-year-old woman! Not only that, they instilled in their mentally challenged son from childhood that I was his wife, and that any mistreatment was justified. As a result, from childhood to adulthood, I not only had to guard against being harassed by the mentally challenged boy but was also frequently beaten by him! The fear left by the mentally challenged boy and my adoptive parents was so deep that even after two lifetimes, it still made me tremble. My father saw my face turn pale instantly and smiled smugly, “You still have a month before your birthday. Sign this property transfer agreement now, or I’ll send you back to that poor mountain village!” “Let you be the wife of a mentally challenged man forever!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294699”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #擦边Steamy

Ethan Parker and I have been together for ten years, but he still hasn’t decided to marry me. I couldn’t help but ask him if he ever planned to. He responded calmly, as if it were a routine conversation, dodging the question. I looked down at my phone, at the photos. His new secretary was wearing the Tiffany & Co. engagement ring, the one everyone calls the “True Love” ring, and the custom Vera Wang wedding dress—one of a kind in the world. She was smiling, snuggled up in his arms, while he gazed at her with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in years. Suddenly, I no longer wanted a future with him. The new secretary was an outgoing, bubbly girl. After work, she smiled at me and said, “Is Ethan coming to pick you up today, Emily? You two are such relationship goals—ten years together and still as sweet as ever.” Ashley Taylor, always snarky, let out a dry laugh and mocked me, “Ten years together and still no marriage? It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t plan on marrying you. Calling that love is just pathetic.” My friend, Sarah Mitchell, fired back, annoyed, “Clearly, you don’t know that Ethan just bought her that ‘True Love’ ring from Tiffany last month. And word at Parker Holdings is that he had a custom Vera Wang wedding dress made for her a year ago.” Ashley’s face turned sour, and just before she left, she spat out, “Well, let’s see if that really happens.” Sarah wanted to argue more, but I stopped her with a quiet, “Let it go.” But Ashley wasn’t wrong. It felt like Ethan really didn’t plan on marrying me. When I walked out of the office, I realized it had started snowing. The cold wind cut through my scarf and chilled me to the bone. I looked around, but I didn’t see his familiar black Porsche. I checked my phone. His messages, once flooding my screen with notifications, had dwindled to just a few formal ones. “Working late. Take a cab home.” I took a deep breath and called him back. It took several seconds before he finally picked up. “Hello? What’s up?” His voice sounded hoarse, strange. In the background, I heard a faint giggle—quickly hushed, as if someone was being warned. I pretended not to notice. “What are you doing?” I could hear the sound of clothes rustling before Ethan replied, irritation creeping into his tone. “I’m at work. If there’s nothing else, I’m gonna hang up.” “Wait,” I interrupted him. “Do you remember what today is? It’s our 10-Year Anniversary.” Silence followed on the other end. Before he could make excuses, I pressed on. “Come pick me up. I’m waiting for you at the office.” I hung up before he could refuse.

While waiting for Ethan, I watched as the new secretary waved goodbye, turning to rush into the arms of the boyfriend she always complained about. His cheeks were red from the cold, but he still smiled as he handed her a roasted sweet potato. She told me once that they didn’t have much money, but love—love doesn’t care about wealth. I remembered the lean years when Ethan and I were at our happiest. Back then, when he came to pick me up, he’d always bring me little treats—sometimes candy apples, sometimes hot dogs. I used to tease him for wasting money, but he’d just grin and say, “I saw these and thought of you. I just want you to enjoy your favorite things every day.” I rode on the back of his bike then, and even when we were broke and I had a rough day at work, I still felt so happy. Now, as Ethan’s cars got more expensive, he’d stopped bringing me anything at all. Maybe he’d forgotten. Or maybe he just didn’t care anymore. From Parker Holdings to my office, it should’ve only been a 10-minute drive. But I waited for two hours in the freezing wind. When he finally arrived and saw me waiting by the door, his first words were annoyed, his brow furrowed with frustration. “It’s freezing. Why didn’t you wait inside? What are you doing out here?” Was he worried about me? Or just upset that I’d interrupted whatever he was doing? I couldn’t tell anymore. “I just thought you’d be here sooner,” I said calmly. He froze for a second, eyes darting away with a hint of guilt before muttering, “Sorry, there was traffic. It won’t happen again.” He reached out, opening his coat, trying to pull me close. I stopped him with a raised hand. The moment he approached, I caught the scent—strange body wash mixed with sweet, cloying perfume. “Let’s just get in the car,” I said quietly. “It’s too cold out here.” I didn’t react to his hesitation, turning and slipping into the passenger seat.

When Ethan got into the car, he handed me a small box. Inside was a ruby necklace, the one he’d won at last month’s auction, along with that infamous engagement ring. “Here. Don’t be mad. I’ve had this gift ready for a while. I’ve just been so busy lately, I forgot to give it to you.” He spoke like he was pacifying a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. “Let’s eat out for our anniversary this year,” I said flatly. In the past, he’d always prepared a home-cooked meal, especially during those early years when we had very little. No matter what, he’d make sure we had a proper anniversary dinner. Staring straight ahead, he started the car, casually responding, “Sure. Where do you want to go?” He agreed too quickly—probably eager to free up more time to spend with her. “How about Lou Malnati’s Pizzeria?” The car skidded slightly. I pretended not to notice his fingers tense on the steering wheel. “It’s snowing. The roads are slippery. Drive slow,” I said. “Yeah,” he replied, trying to sound calm. Then, almost too casually, he asked, “Why there?” “The new secretary recommended it. She says it’s her favorite. Why? Is there a problem?” I asked with feigned innocence. Ethan let out a barely audible sigh of relief. “No, no problem.” The rest of the drive was quiet. I knew what was making him nervous. She was young, and she loved pizza and iced coffee. Lou Malnati’s was one of her go-to places. I’d seen it on her Facebook posts more times than I could count. In those photos, I could always make out a faint reflection in the restaurant’s window—a silhouette of a man I knew too well, someone who had been by my side through so many years. When we arrived, the place was packed, but the owner greeted Ethan warmly. When he saw me, his smile faltered for just a moment before becoming overly cheerful again. “Do you come here often?” I asked. He explained smoothly, “Some clients prefer a more casual setting for meetings.” I couldn’t help but be impressed. Business had clearly taught him how to keep his composure. If I didn’t know him so well, I might’ve missed the subtle guilt behind his calm demeanor. The waiter led us to a private booth, each room in the restaurant uniquely themed. This booth was where Jessica liked to take her photos. Ethan ordered the half BBQ chicken and half smoked ribs combo. But a mix-up happened, and they brought us the wrong dish—a spicy BBQ platter. Ethan’s face darkened, and he quickly had them change it to the one we ordered, glancing at me nervously. When he saw that I wasn’t reacting, he seemed to relax. Ethan had never been able to handle spicy food, and I always remembered to order something mild for him. In Jessica’s photos, though, every plate was drenched in spicy sauce. I remembered one of her captions: “He can’t handle spicy food, but he still came with me anyway. #TrueLove.” “I heard you recently bought a ‘True Love’ engagement ring and had a wedding dress custom-made a year ago. Are those for me?” I asked abruptly. Ethan flinched, dropping shrimp into my half of the platter by accident. “No, a client requested those,” he said, calling the waiter for another order of shrimp. I forced a weak smile, and though I could barely hold it together, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Ethan, are you ever going to marry me?” He didn’t even look up, answering like it was a formality, “Of course. I promised you, didn’t I?” He poured me a drink, clearly trying to soothe me, sensing my mood. “Emily, don’t overthink it. Weddings take a lot of planning. I want it to be perfect—it’s something you only get to do once in a lifetime.” I stayed quiet, looking down at my phone, where Jessica had sent me photos just a few hours earlier. She was wearing the Tiffany engagement ring, the custom Vera Wang wedding dress, smiling up at him, while he gazed lovingly back at her. Ethan had said those exact same words to me years ago, back when he had nothing. His friends told him to marry me quickly so I wouldn’t leave him for someone better. He’d refused, saying I deserved more. He promised me a wedding that would make every woman in the world jealous. But now, I knew—he wasn’t going to marry me. I pulled up the photos and placed my phone in front of him. “Was your ‘client’ your secretary?” I thought the evidence would make him panic, that he’d finally admit to everything. But instead, he lit a cigarette, took several long drags, and finally muttered, “Jessica’s boyfriend died in a car accident. She said I remind her of him, so she asked me to take a photo with her. To give her closure.” “There’s nothing going on between us.” His words hit me like a punch to the gut. My eyes stung as the pain pierced through me. “Ethan, if you really loved someone, you’d notice the smallest changes in them.” “I’ve known for a while now that the person going to Lou Malnati’s with Jessica was you. Every time you came home, I could smell the barbecue sauce on you.” “And you always smell like her perfume.” Ethan sniffed his sleeve, his face growing pale. “You used to never smoke around me.” He stared at me, stunned, before quickly putting out his cigarette. Panic crept into his voice as he reached for me. “Emily, let me explain—” “Let me finish.” I cut him off, my voice steady. “I’ve been to this restaurant before. I tracked down the booth from her Facebook posts, and I asked the owner if I could reserve it.” He had laughed and told me that the booth was always kept for a special guest. The man’s girlfriend loved this spot because of the view of the river. He didn’t want her to be disappointed if she couldn’t sit here on their next visit. “Oh, and by the way, I’m allergic to shrimp.” I picked up a piece of shrimp from the spicy platter, lifting my drink. “Mango juice too.” “You’ve been mistaking me for her, haven’t you?” Ethan’s face went ghostly white. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Tears finally spilled from my eyes as I let my voice break. “Do you really think I didn’t know what you were doing during those two hours I waited for you?” Ethan’s eyes widened, a flash of guilt crossing his face as he pulled me into his arms, begging. “I’m sorry, Emily. I’m so sorry. I’ll fire her. I’ll never let her come near us again. Just please forgive me this time.” “No.” I shoved him away, screaming, “Ethan, I’ve already forgiven you once!”

Ethan had forgotten, or maybe he chose to forget. Five years ago, during one of our usual conversations, he kept bringing up his female investor. He told me how much she had helped him, how much she believed in him. I ended up confronting him about it, and we had a huge fight. I even suggested breaking up. He panicked that night. I remember him running to her house, begging her to come over and explain everything to me. “She’s married, Emily. She has a kid. Her husband is way more successful than me. You have nothing to worry about,” he said. “Please, don’t break up with me. I’m terrified of losing you.” Back then, Ethan held me so tightly, scared that I’d walk away. What I hadn’t understood at the time was the strange, knowing smile that woman gave me before she left. Now I realize that Ethan was testing me—seeing how far he could push, seeing if I would tolerate it. If I didn’t care or chose to overlook it because I loved him, then it would have given him a green light to cheat, to go on with his life, playing around with other women. After that incident, he never mentioned another woman. So, I decided to give him another chance. Until Jessica came along. He let her post pictures of them together, wearing wedding rings and even wedding dresses. He allowed her to provoke me, to flaunt their affair. Taking a deep breath, I let out a bitter laugh. “Ethan, do you think that I can’t live without you? Is that why you treat me like this—because you think I’ll just put up with anything?” “I won’t lie, the sunk cost is huge. Ten years is a long time. I’m deeply invested in this. But no one is truly irreplaceable. I told you when we almost broke up before—if you can’t clean up your mess, I’ll take care of it for you.” Ethan broke down, tears streaming down his face. He dropped to his knees, clutching my hands tightly. “Emily, I made a mistake. I was stupid. I know I messed up, but I swear, this is the last time. You know how hard it’s been for us. We’ve been through so much together. I was distracted by something new, but I promise it won’t happen again.”

The last ten years had been a struggle for both of us. Neither Ethan nor I came from wealth. Ethan was an orphan, and my parents had remarried, leaving me with no one to rely on but my grandfather. We had been competitors since high school, always battling for the top spot in our class. People thought we were rivals, but no one knew that Ethan would leave a carton of milk on my desk every morning, or that he’d quietly follow me home after night classes, making sure I was safe. I still remember that one year when a guy from the nearby community college tried to harass me. Ethan didn’t hesitate for a second before jumping in, fighting him off like his life depended on it, leaving both of them bloody. After that, no one ever bothered me again. People knew Ethan was not someone to mess with. After we graduated high school, we naturally became a couple. And after college, we refused to settle. We were determined to make it in Chicago, this expensive, cutthroat city. We lived in a damp, cramped basement apartment and survived on ramen noodles. Ethan’s first year of business was brutal. He lost a huge chunk of money. To pay off debts, he worked three different jobs. We lived frugally, cutting back on everything. I remember a rich guy hit on me, tried to pull me away from Ethan. Ethan was so upset he told me we should break up. “What’s the point of staying with me? All I’ve done is make you suffer. You should be with someone who can give you more.” But I was stubborn. I loved him, and I refused to leave. He broke down in my arms, shaking, apologizing over and over, promising that one day he’d make sure I had a good life. Eventually, his company started to take off. When he earned his first real money, the first thing he did was take me out to buy a one-carat diamond ring. He held my hand and laughed, telling me that one day, he’d buy me an even bigger one. Now, thinking back on it, it all seems so painfully ironic. I shoved him away, tears streaming down my face. “We’ve been together for ten years, Ethan. Ten years. And this is how you repay me?” My fists pounded against his chest, my emotions overwhelming me. He took the hits without a word, just standing there, absorbing my pain. Then Jessica’s call broke the moment. I watched as Ethan’s expression darkened when he saw her name on the screen. He ignored the first call, but she called again—this time more persistent. His face grew stormy as he reached to turn off his phone. I coldly said, “Go ahead. Answer it. It could be important.” Reluctantly, Ethan put the phone on speaker. Jessica’s trembling voice filled the air. “Ethan, I’m at the bar bathroom. Some guy’s been harassing me. Can you come get me?” Ethan swore under his breath, his words sharp and cold. “What does that have to do with me? Don’t forget your place, Jessica. Starting tomorrow, you’re fired. And don’t show up in front of me ever again, or I’ll make sure you regret it.” I heard Jessica gasp, her voice choking up. “What? What are you saying? You love me, don’t you? You said you’d marry me…” “Shut up!” Ethan growled. “I’m only marrying Emily. I lied to you, Jessica. I never loved you. You were just a distraction.” There was a sharp, bitter laugh on the other end. Jessica’s voice turned venomous. “Ethan, I’m pregnant. You have thirty minutes. If you don’t show up, I’ll make sure you never see this child.” Before Ethan could respond, the call ended. Ethan stood frozen, staring at his phone, his knuckles white as he gripped it tightly. It took him several seconds to speak, and when he did, his voice was soft and pleading. “Emily…” I looked at him, my voice cold. “Are you really going to leave me to go to her?” Ethan hesitated, torn. Finally, he muttered, “It’s a life, Emily. I can’t just…” He was waiting for my permission, for me to tell him it was okay to go so he wouldn’t have to feel guilty. I didn’t say anything, just watched him as the seconds ticked by. Eventually, he stood up. “I’ll just go check on her, and then I’ll come back. You understand, right? I’ll be right back.” He didn’t wait for my answer. He rushed to the door, grabbing his phone and dialing Jessica as he walked out. As his footsteps faded down the hall, I let out a soft laugh. “Ethan, I had a secret to tell you today, too. But now, it doesn’t matter.” He was already gone, too busy to hear me. I wiped away my tears, methodically, pulling out a handkerchief from my purse. From a young age, I learned that tears were a powerful weapon—especially when they were perfectly timed. Growing up with my grandfather, kids from the neighborhood always called me an orphan, a throwaway. I’d smile through it and fight them back with my fists. But when the teachers arrived, I cried like an innocent little girl, the kind that no one could scold. Even Ethan didn’t know that I’ve always had my own way of getting even. I didn’t need anyone to fight my battles for me. I’m not one to forgive. And I never forget. So, Ethan Parker and Jessica Williams, if you think I’m going to let this go, you’re sorely mistaken.

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After my parents’ divorce, I stayed with my mom. She tricked me into giving her all my savings—three hundred thousand dollars—to buy a house for my cousin. Then my cousin stabbed me to death. When my mom found my body, she comforted him, saying, “Don’t worry, your aunt will write a forgiveness letter for you.” When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the time just before my parents’ divorce. My mom’s eyes were steady as she asked, “Jessica, who are you staying with?” I was pushed out of endless darkness. When I opened my eyes, there was my furious mom, and my dad quietly smoking a cigarette. Uncle Steve was yelling, “What’s yours is my sister’s, and what’s my sister’s is mine! If the house is mine, why shouldn’t my son be allowed to live in it?” That familiar scene… I had been reborn into my senior year. Before I could fully grasp the situation, my mom’s finger was practically in my face. “Jessica, tell me, isn’t it important for your cousin to start middle school? Shouldn’t you move into the dorms to give him your room?” In my last life, my mom constantly pitted me against my dad. I grew distant from him because of her manipulation. Mom insisted that I give up my room to Kyle during my senior year, and though my dad disagreed, I gave in, hoping for her approval. Soon, Uncle Steve moved in under the pretense of looking after Kyle. Dad couldn’t take it anymore and filed for divorce. I was given over to my mom’s custody, and that’s when my nightmare began. Seeing that I wasn’t responding, Mom shoved me again, and I stumbled to the floor. Dad quickly tossed his cigarette aside and rushed over to check on me. But Mom kept shouting, “Why aren’t you saying anything, you useless girl? Just standing there like an idiot?” Dad, a quiet and honest man, raised his voice unexpectedly. “What are you yelling for? Didn’t you see you just knocked her over?” Kyle, my cousin, was sprawled on the couch, lazily playing video games. He didn’t even look up when he heard Dad’s voice, just scoffed, “Can you all keep it down? I can’t hear my teammates.” I sat there on the floor, tears spilling down my cheeks as I looked at my dad’s not-yet-aged face. In my last life, Mom had indeed written that forgiveness letter for Kyle, and without Dad knowing, she had me cremated quickly. When Dad finally learned, his hair turned white overnight. He charged at Kyle in a blind rage, but Kyle easily shoved him down the stairs. My soul hovered above, trying desperately to hold onto Dad, but I couldn’t touch him. I could only hear his final words, “It’s all my fault.” Dad thought I was crying from the fall and reached for a tissue to wipe my tears. But Mom grabbed the box and threw it on the floor. “What are you crying about? You’re the older sister; you should let your brother have his way. Besides, Kyle’s struggling in school, and it’s all your fault!” Dad, red-faced with anger, stood up, ready to argue with her. I had finally come to my senses and pulled on his arm. Dad thought I was going to stop him, just like before, and his eyes filled with disappointment. Mom, on the other hand, looked triumphant. “Bill Hay, you’re just as worthless as always. No matter what, your daughter will always side with her mother…” Smack! Mom didn’t get to finish her sentence. She clutched her cheek, screaming, “Jessica Hay, you dare hit your own mother? I’ll kill you today!” Uncle Steve started to step forward, ready to hit me as well. But before his hand could get any closer, Dad kicked him back. “If anyone lays a hand on my daughter, I’ll fight them with everything I’ve got!”

Mom and Uncle Steve were stunned into silence by Dad’s sudden fierceness. I wiped my tears away and stared them both down. “So, it’s crucial for Kyle to start middle school, but my senior year doesn’t matter?” Mom looked at me, completely shocked. She had never imagined her daughter—who had always bent over backward for her affection—would ever stand up to her. Uncle Steve recovered first and sneered at me. “You, a worthless brat, sitting in that room, studying for what? Your brother’s going to get into a good college someday and have a bright future. He’ll be able to help you out, too.” I turned to him, my voice cold. “Kyle? He’s a lazy bum who can only play video games. What makes you think he’ll help me? I’d be lucky if he doesn’t turn out like you—leeches living off others.” In my last life, I had been a top student. In every exam, I was always in the top ten of my class at our prestigious high school. But to my mom, no matter how high my scores were, they could never compare to Kyle calling her “Aunt.” Back then, I gave up my room, not because I wanted to, but because I was desperate to please my mom, to get more of her attention. But moving to the dorms made me sick constantly, and my grades plummeted. In the end, I barely got into a mediocre college. When the SAT results came in, Mom and Uncle Steve sneered at me, calling me a failure. They praised Kyle for “waking up late” but said he’d surely surpass me in the future. I glared at Mom with all my resolve. This time, I wouldn’t make the same mistake. Mom shifted uncomfortably under my gaze, taking a step back. “Jessica, are you out of your mind? You hit me, and now you’re looking at me like that?” I straightened my back. “If you think I’m giving up my room, you’re dreaming.” “You might as well pack up your stuff and take that lazy cousin of mine back to Ohio. Maybe it’s time he learned how to work a farm.” When Mom realized I wasn’t budging, her tone softened, “I was just upset, Jessica. Think about it, if you hadn’t dropped Kyle when he was a baby, he would’ve developed faster. You owe him.” Uncle Steve, still on the floor from Dad’s kick, chimed in, “Yeah, if it weren’t for you, Kyle would’ve been top of his class by now.” They were talking about something that had happened when Kyle was just a baby. One New Year’s Eve, Uncle Steve’s family had left me, a six-year-old, in charge of baby Kyle while they played cards. Kyle cried non-stop, and when I went to get help, Uncle Steve shooed me away, annoyed. In desperation, I tried to carry Kyle over to the card table, but I wasn’t strong enough. I accidentally dropped him. He cried louder, and I froze in panic until Mom stormed in, kicked me aside, and rushed Kyle to the hospital. All she left me with was a cold threat: “If anything happens to your brother, I’ll kill you.” They took Kyle from the local clinic to County General, then to Downtown Memorial Hospital, and finally to State Hospital. Every doctor assured them that Kyle was perfectly healthy, with not a single scratch on him. But after that day, they blamed everything on that fall. Kyle’s late walking? My fault. Bad grades? My fault. Playing video games all day? Also my fault. Because of that fall, I had to give Kyle my snacks, my toys, and even my allowance. But while they were busy fussing over Kyle, it was Dad who picked me up off the floor, my head bleeding from where Mom had kicked me. How ridiculous. I glanced coldly at Kyle, who had his headphones in and was still playing video games, oblivious to everything around him. I laughed bitterly. “All those doctors said Kyle was fine. What, are you two smarter than they are?” In the past, every time I refused to give Kyle something, they’d bring up that fall to guilt me into giving in. This was the first time I’d ever questioned them like this. Mom’s face turned red, then pale, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s got internal injuries. The doctors just couldn’t find them.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “I was six years old, barely four feet tall. How could I have dropped a swaddled baby hard enough to give him internal injuries?” “What am I, a martial arts master?” Dad chuckled along with me, ruffling my hair. “My daughter’s right. She’s keeping her room. If you can’t deal with that, then get out.” Then I picked up Uncle Steve’s bags and tossed them out the door. “Goodbye.”

Seeing that I wasn’t backing down, Uncle Steve glared at me and muttered to my mom, “This is the daughter you raised?” He grabbed Kyle, who was still clutching his controller, and made as if to leave. Mom panicked, grabbing Kyle’s sleeve to stop him. But Kyle just shook her off. “If you were a decent sister, Dad wouldn’t have to deal with this. Can’t you do anything right?” Mom was in a frenzy. She rushed at me and slapped me hard across the face. “You ungrateful brat! How dare you not make room for your brother? I’ll beat the disobedience out of you!” The force of the blow left my head ringing. My vision blurred, and in that moment, Mom’s furious face morphed into the same expression she had after I died, when she was comforting Kyle after he had stabbed me. The two images overlapped, searing into my mind. My heart ached like a thousand needles had pierced through it. Trembling, I asked, “Do you even remember that you’re my mother?” Mom froze for a second, but quickly recovered, scoffing at me. “If you apologize to your uncle and brother right now, and move their things back into the house, I might still accept you as my daughter.” “But if you don’t… you won’t have a mother anymore.” That was the same tactic she’d used to manipulate me in my past life—threatening to disown me unless I obeyed her every demand. But now? I had already died once. There was no fear left in me. I let out a bitter laugh and said, “Fine.” Mom looked relieved, her tone softening. She pointed toward the door. “Then go fetch their luggage. And Bill, don’t just stand there—call her school and arrange for dorm housing.” Dad didn’t move. Neither did I. I looked her straight in the eye and said, “When I said ‘fine,’ I meant it. I’m perfectly fine without a mother like you.” Mom’s face contorted in disbelief. “What did you just say?” “I said, it’s good to be without a mother like you,” I repeated, my voice steady. “You can’t be serious! You’ve always been the one who listens to me, the one who loves me the most! What’s gotten into you today?” Mom’s voice was shaking with rage, but there was a flicker of doubt behind her eyes. I yanked my arm out of her reach as she tried to touch my forehead, as if checking whether I was sick. “For years, I craved your approval, your love, and I made countless sacrifices hoping for a shred of affection in return. But today, you’ve crossed the line. You’re asking me, a senior about to take the SATs, to give up my room to the same cousin who’s bullied me all my life.” “I finally see it clearly now. Ever since Kyle was born, you’ve had no room in your heart for me. So, I don’t need you either.” For a brief moment, I saw something in her eyes—maybe guilt, maybe sadness. But before she could say anything, Uncle Steve interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Come on, Susan, they’re just putting on a show to guilt-trip us. How come I never realized you were this crafty?” “If you don’t want us living here, just say so. I’ve seen through you, Susan Hay.” He grabbed Kyle’s arm, hoisting him to his feet. Kyle, annoyed that his gaming session had been interrupted, stood up with a huff. Uncle Steve gathered their things, ready to leave. Mom’s fleeting sadness turned to anger again as she ran after them, but not before shooting me a final threat: “If your cousin is upset, I’ll come back and make you pay for it, Jessica.” I watched them leave without a word, feeling strangely at peace. Dad looked at me hesitantly, unsure of what to say. He finally broke the silence with a quiet voice, “Do you want to rest in your room for a bit?” I shook my head, my voice thick with emotion. “Dad, I’m sorry… for everything.” I had a million thoughts racing through my mind, but before I could say more, Dad cut me off gently, “You don’t need to apologize to me, Jessica. I’m your dad.” Tears welled up again, and I threw myself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. I cried for all the years I had wasted trying to earn my mother’s love, for how blind I had been, for how I’d let them manipulate me. The weight of it all finally lifted, and I cried until I had nothing left. When the tears finally stopped, Dad quietly went to the kitchen to get me some hot water. But the front door wasn’t locked, and before he could come back, Mom burst through it, her face a mask of rage. In her hand was a large kitchen knife, gleaming menacingly as she stormed toward me. “Jessica Hay, you worthless brat! You drove away your brother! Now I’ll drive you out of this world!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294697”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #擦边Steamy