my sister，Vivian Rivers married the powerful and influential prince of the city’s elite circle, but the prince was a psychopath who tortured her until she went insane. I, Mia Rivers, married the prince’s assistant, Brent Sanders. Although Brent had neither money nor power, he was extremely gentle with me. Later, he even took over the prince’s position, allowing me to live a life of luxury. Vivian, consumed by jealousy, stabbed me to death. When I opened my eyes again, in what seemed like a second chance at life, Vivian immediately chose the assistant, Brent Sanders. She gloated to me, “This time, you’ll be the one tortured for life, while I’ll be happy forever.” How naive could she be? Did she really think the assistant was a good person? As I opened my eyes, I saw Noah Yates, the city’s most eligible bachelor, sitting at the head of the table. Standing beside him was his assistant, Brent Sanders. Suddenly, my sister Vivian rushed over, grabbed Brent’s hand, and excitedly said to Noah, “Mr. Yates, I like your assistant. Can I have him as my husband?” At these words, my dad immediately stood up from his seat, visibly angry. “Vivian, what are you doing? Stop this nonsense!” “I’m not joking around. I really like Mr. Yates’ assistant,” Vivian replied defiantly, throwing a smug look in my direction. It was at that moment I realized she had also been reborn. In my previous life, Dad had brought Vivian and me here for Noah to choose his future wife. This arrangement was supposed to help our family’s company climb to new heights. But my dad had always favored Vivian, so naturally, he didn’t want me to marry the powerful and wealthy Noah and live a life of luxury. So, he had warned me beforehand: “If Noah chooses you, you must reject him and choose his assistant instead. Otherwise, I’ll make sure your birth mother doesn’t survive.” Vivian and I are half-sisters. My mom is in a nursing home, and Vivian’s mother is now my stepmother. To ensure my mom’s survival, I had no choice but to agree to my dad’s demands. When we arrived, Noah actually chose me. I had to reject him and choose his assistant instead. Then Vivian seized the opportunity, saying she really liked Noah. At that time, Noah’s eyes were dark and unreadable. He simply said in a flat tone, “Fine, you’ll be my wife from now on.” But after Vivian married him, she didn’t live happily ever after. Noah turned out to be a psychopath who enjoyed torturing women. He kept Vivian locked in the basement, using all sorts of methods to torment her. Meanwhile, I married his assistant, Brent Sanders. Although Brent wasn’t rich or powerful, he was extremely gentle with me. He would take me to work with him every day, just to take care of me. Later, he even killed Noah and took his place, allowing me to live a life of luxury. Vivian became insanely jealous and ended up stabbing me to death. When I opened my eyes again in this new life, Vivian had promptly chosen the assistant. She gloated to me, “This time, you’ll be the one tortured for life, while I’ll be happy forever.” How naive of her. Did she really think the assistant was a good person? “I want to marry Brent Sanders!” Vivian insisted once more. My dad was furious and could only turn to Noah to explain, “Mr. Yates, my eldest daughter is being foolish. But don’t worry, if you like her, I’ll make sure she marries you.” “No,” Noah said softly. “I’m not interested in her, but my assistant is single, and I think they’d make a good match.” Hearing this, my dad’s face darkened. He had originally hoped for Vivian to marry into wealth and power, but with Noah’s words, he couldn’t refuse now. That left only me. Noah’s captivating eyes fixed on me intently. “Mia, would you like to marry me?” Although in my previous life, Vivian had been tortured to death by him. But because Brent took me to work every day, I had a lot of contact with Noah and realized he wasn’t truly a psychopath. It must have been something Vivian did that made him so cruel to her. “Mia, Mr. Yates is asking you a question. Don’t you want to marry him?” Vivian suddenly spoke up, watching me like it was some kind of show. I smiled, “Of course I do.” With these words, not only did Vivian smile smugly, but even Noah’s lips curved into a slight smile. I didn’t know why he was smiling, and I didn’t want to know. All I knew was that this time, I would send those who had hurt me before, step by step, into the abyss. The wedding date was quickly set. As Vivian passed by me with Brent, she whispered, “This time, you’ll be the one tortured for life, while I’ll be happy forever.” I raised an eyebrow slightly. “Is that so? We’ll see who ends up being tortured.” Vivian gritted her teeth in anger at my words. “Just you wait, your misery is about to begin!” She had barely finished speaking when Noah approached. Frightened, Vivian’s face turned pale, and she scurried away with Brent. Noah was very tall, looking down at me. “From now on, you’ll be my wife. If you have any requests, feel free to make them.” Any requests? Well, wasn’t this just heaven-sent? In my previous life, at this time, Noah had an important project that he assigned to Brent. Brent had secretly embezzled a lot of money from it, which later provided him with the financial means to have Noah killed. After all, with money, he could hire people to do his dirty work. This time, I wouldn’t let him succeed. Not only to prevent Noah from being killed but also to get revenge on Vivian. I knew Brent all too well; he was the real psychopath. If he lost this project, his temper would become even more volatile. Vivian’s days would become “even better” then. I looked at Noah. “That project in the suburbs, I want you to give it to me, not to Brent.” I thought he might ask me why. But he didn’t ask, he just agreed immediately. He even suggested taking me to see our future home. Noah took me to an exclusive neighborhood where land was worth its weight in gold. Only the rich and powerful could afford to live here. Noah was indeed very wealthy; this was something I had known in my previous life. I figured that in this life, as long as I didn’t offend him, his money alone could ensure I lived well for the rest of my life. Love? Well, I wouldn’t hope for that. So, I took the initiative to hold his hand, trying to please him. “Honey, I really like it here.” “Still calling me ‘Honey’?” He stared at me intently, his eyes seeming to see right through me. I quickly corrected myself, “Darling…” He smiled with satisfaction and handed me a check for $5 million. “Here, spend it as you like.” My eyes lit up. I really needed money, and this was perfect. Then he took me to see our future home. Strangely enough, the interior design was exactly to my taste. I didn’t understand how he could know me so well. I was about to ask him when he suddenly kissed me, silencing all my questions. That was moving a bit fast. When the kiss ended, I suddenly saw Vivian standing outside, her eyes glaring at us viciously. She must be furious, wondering why I wasn’t being tortured. In my previous life, Brent took me to work with him every day. It seemed like he was taking care of me, but in reality, I was serving him. When he was tired, he’d make me massage him, and when he was unhappy, he’d hit me to vent his frustrations. Once, he punched me so hard my nose bled. When I went to the bathroom to clean up, I ran into Noah. He frowned, “What happened? Who hit you?” I didn’t dare tell him the truth because Brent would beat me if I did. So I lied, “It’s nothing, I just have a medical condition that causes frequent nosebleeds.” After hearing this, he gave me a check for $100,000 to get treatment. Then he left. It was at that moment I was certain he couldn’t be a psychopath. After all, a psychopath wouldn’t be so kind as to help a stranger. Brent, on the other hand, was the real monster. Vivian thought she had escaped from the frying pan. In reality, she had jumped from the frying pan into a raging fire. After Noah dropped me off at home, Vivian grabbed me and pulled me into her room, glaring at me fiercely. “Did you drug Noah? Is that why he kissed you willingly?” “Just you wait, it won’t be long before you’re locked in the basement, bitten by dogs, and living with snakes and rats!” As she spoke, she raised her hand to hit me. I quickly caught her wrist and pinned her against the wall. In a very soft voice, I said, “Vivian, instead of wasting time arguing with me, you should think about your own future.” Her future would be ruined by Brent, reduced to a pile of mush. But I didn’t want to tell her what kind of person Brent really was. Whether in my previous life or this one, she never wanted me to be happy. I wasn’t kind enough to let someone who had killed me before have a good life. She was shaking with anger, her teeth chattering. “The show’s just beginning. When you’re tortured beyond recognition, let’s see if you’ll still be so smug!” With that, she shoved me away and stormed out of the room. Watching her leave in her spaghetti strap dress, her fair calves exposed, I couldn’t help but smile. Yes, the show was just beginning. Vivian, soon your fair skin will be covered in bloody wounds. The next day, Brent came with engagement gifts to formally propose to Vivian. He lovingly pulled Vivian into his arms and said to our parents, “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Vivian in the future.” His idea of “taking good care” involved tying up his wife and whipping her with a thorny whip. He would also inject various drugs into his wife’s body, causing her to lose control of her bodily functions. I wondered if Vivian would be able to endure this so-called “good care.” At the moment, Vivian knew nothing of this and was smiling brightly in Brent’s arms. When I went to the bathroom, she couldn’t resist following me to brag. “See? Brent loves me so much. My happy life is just around the corner.” As she spoke, she pulled out a bottle of yellow liquid, laughing coldly, “In a few seconds, your pretty face will be gone. You won’t be able to seduce Noah anymore. He’ll be disgusted just looking at you!” With that, she was about to throw the liquid at me. I dodged to the side, intending to grab her hand, but someone beat me to it. It was Noah. He snatched the bottle and splashed the contents onto Vivian’s face. Immediately, she let out a piercing scream. “Ah!” Vivian fell to the ground, clutching her face and writhing. Brent and our parents rushed over. “Oh my God, Vivian, what happened?” Vivian cried and screamed, “It was Mia! Mia did this to me! Brent, quick, teach her a lesson!” What the hell? Was she blind? I hadn’t even touched her. Brent didn’t listen to her. Instead, he quickly apologized to Noah, “Mr. Yates, I’m sorry. I didn’t discipline my wife properly.” Noah pulled me into his arms, his voice cold, “If anyone dares to touch my wife again, I won’t let them off easy.” The room fell into a deathly silence, no one daring to speak. Vivian, covering half of her face that had been corroded by the acid, trembled in fear. I looked at my dad, who was looking at Vivian with concern. But only I knew that he wasn’t really worried about Vivian. In my previous life, he knew very well what kind of person Brent was, which was why he had me marry him. In this life, when Vivian chose Brent, he didn’t stop her for the sake of the engagement gifts. He didn’t even tell Vivian what kind of person Brent really was. None of the people before me were good. I wouldn’t let any of them off the hook. After Vivian’s face was injured, her wedding to Brent was postponed, but they went ahead and got their marriage license. Noah’s status in the city was unrivaled. Although he had disfigured Vivian, she didn’t dare say anything, forced to swallow her anger. Brent was at the hospital every day taking care of her, playing the role of a good man. Only I knew that Brent was just keeping up appearances. He actually hated Vivian and was probably tormenting her in the hospital every day. After all, I knew Brent too well. He was a person with an extremely strong desire to win. Vivian had made him lose face in front of Noah, so he would definitely punish her severely. Meanwhile, my revenge plan was still in progress. The project I had asked Noah for last time, he had given to me as promised. I deliberately had people spread some false rumors. Making outsiders believe that Noah had given me the project because Brent was too busy taking care of his wife. When this news reached Brent’s ears, he would likely take out all his anger on Vivian. To confirm this, I secretly went to the hospital to check on Vivian. I saw Brent grabbing her throat, violently hitting her face. “I worked for months on that project, and because of you, all my plans were ruined!” “You should just die!” As he spoke, he stabbed her fair arms and legs with a needle. Brent was truly an unhinged psychopath. I quietly recorded this scene with my phone. Vivian, you thought that by switching lives with me this time, you would live happily. So, are you regretting it now? That evening, I asked Noah to call Brent back to work. And to give him another important project. Noah agreed without hesitation, as always. I asked him, “Why do you never ask me why I want these things done?” He pulled me close, his eyes fixed on mine. “I support whatever you do.” “Our wedding is set for next month. If there’s anything you’re not satisfied with, make sure to tell me.” As he spoke, his hand had already found the zipper of my dress. In the time I had spent with Noah, he hadn’t mistreated me like he had Vivian in my previous life. Instead, he supported everything I wanted to do. I was quite curious about what Vivian had done to offend him so badly. “Focus, baby,” his voice pulled me back from my thoughts. My dress was already on the floor. We were engaging in the most intimate act, but without love. But I felt satisfied. After all, he was helping me get my revenge quickly. … When Brent returned to the company, he brought Vivian with him. One side of Vivian’s face had been corroded by the acid. Although it had been repaired, it was still wrinkled and looked monstrous. She glared at me viciously, her nails digging deep into her palms. As she passed me, her voice was ice-cold: “Mia Rivers, just you wait. I won’t let you off easy.” Of course, I knew she wouldn’t let me off. That’s why I never planned to sit back and do nothing. In my previous life, to make me cooperate and maintain his good-guy image in public, Brent regularly injected a drug into my body. If I didn’t obey, he would inject another drug that reacted badly with the first one. This would cause me to lose control of my bodily functions, have seizures, and feel like death would be a relief. That’s why I had Noah bring Brent back to take over the project. When he was close to succeeding, I would release the video from the hospital online. It would drag him down from his high horse. Then he would take out all his anger on Vivian. Killing two birds with one stone – it was the perfect plan. Brent started working hard at the company. At the same time, he was posting online about how much he loved Vivian. Making her heart-shaped lunches every day, buying her flowers, dressing her in pretty dresses. In my previous life, he had used this “bringing wife to work” gimmick to gain a huge following. He even became an internet celebrity, making quite a bit of money. But only I knew he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Soon, it was time for the project launch. Brent, as the main person in charge, went on stage to give a speech. Before going on stage, he posted a photo on Instagram. It was a picture of Vivian sitting in the front row. The caption read: [With my wife’s support, I’m full of energy. After this project launch, I plan to take her on a vacation.] The comments section was full of people shipping them. [Wow, cool and disfigured sister x hardworking puppy boyfriend, perfect!] [Even though the sister is disfigured, the puppy boyfriend didn’t abandon her. What a fairy tale love!] [Rooting for you guys, hope you’ll be happy forever!] I sat in the row behind Vivian, smiling to myself. Fairy tale love, huh? They were about to get a rude awakening. “Being able to stand here and speak today is not only due to Mr. Yates’ trust but also my wife’s support.” Brent began his speech on stage. In my previous life at this point, he had already risen to power through these projects. And he was already plotting to kill Noah. But Noah had reached his position through years of hard work and struggles. I couldn’t understand how he couldn’t see through Brent’s schemes. I had no way of knowing, so I could only use my own methods to help him, which was also helping myself. Because if he fell, I would lose my support. The audience burst into applause, and Vivian looked smug. She turned to look at me, “See? Even though I’m disfigured, Brent still loves me.” “Mia, don’t think you’re so great just because you seduced Noah with your body. Let me tell you, your support is about to fall!” I laughed softly, “Oh, really?” “Then look at the stage.” At that moment, instead of the project plans that should have appeared on the big screen on stage, a video of Brent abusing Vivian in the hospital was playing. Immediately, the whole venue was in an uproar. Brent’s face turned pale, “No… I’m not that kind of person, let me explain.” But people only believe what they see with their own eyes. The reporters I had arranged swarmed forward, quickly capturing images of Brent and the video. Vivian’s wrinkled face twisted in anger. She stood up and lunged at me. “You bitch, it must be you, it must be you who arranged this. I’m going to kill you!” I dodged to the side, and she fell hard on the ground. Because of her sudden movement, a section of her arm was exposed, covered in dense bruises and fresh whip marks. Looking at her disfigured face, I crouched down and gently wiped her arm with a handkerchief. “Vivian, it looks like you’re the one being tortured this time, huh?” At these words, her face contorted with rage, her eyes filled with fury. “I’ll kill you! Kill you!” I immediately started playing the victim, “Vivian, what have I done wrong? Why do you want to kill me?” The reporters quickly captured images of me and Vivian.

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Avery’s company was having a team-building cycling trip where family members could join. She brought along her childhood friend. Her business partner couldn’t stand it anymore and secretly sent me photos. The homewrecker was brazenly hugging and kissing my wife in public. As the cycling conditions became more extreme, we found ourselves trapped in a blizzard with thick fog. Avery kicked me away despite my severe injuries, hugging her childhood friend as they fled the mountain. Leaving me alone in the extreme conditions, she coldly said, “You chose to come here yourself.” I was a mess, crawling on the ground, enduring pain and hypothermia, breaking down and begging for help. “Don’t leave me behind. I promise I won’t interfere with you and Jasper anymore!” My breath no longer came out hot, and my vision was gradually blurring. As my body heat faded away, I used my last ounce of strength to grab the hem of Avery’s clothes. I looked at the shapely woman before me, my wife, who impatiently crouched down and shook off my hand. “You chose to come along yourself. Why are you acting so weak now?” She grudgingly pointed towards the direction of the mountain base: “It’s just this short distance. Can’t you make it?” Beside her, her childhood friend Jasper’s cries suddenly stopped. Avery ran over to check on him in a panic: “Baby, baby, wake up. It’s dangerous to fall asleep here.” I couldn’t make a sound, only able to claw at the mud inch by inch, begging her to take pity on me. I didn’t want to die here. I still had dreams, things I hadn’t finished. Avery said she didn’t want children, but I had already started the adoption process. I had originally planned to show Avery photos of the child I had chosen after this cycling trip was over. I had originally wanted to tell her that we shouldn’t argue about past issues anymore, that we were about to welcome a third member to our family. But now my palms were covered in wounds, with no blood left to flow. I struggled to breathe out my last breath, knowing it was useless, still futilely grasping at thin air. I still wanted a future with Avery. But what was left for me was the sight of Avery hugging her childhood friend as they walked down the mountain, two figures clinging tightly together for survival. The phone in my pocket suddenly rang. Fighting through the pain of my gradually stiffening body, I reached out to answer it. My already stiff arm broke as I finally picked up the phone. “Help…” Yesterday, when I received photos from a stranger, I was still in the recording studio laying down tracks. The photos showed my wife and her childhood friend being intimate. Swallowing my humiliation, I trailed at the end of the cycling group, watching them flirt in front of me. This mountain range was dangerous for cycling, with frequent extreme weather. I was worried about Avery’s safety. But my fears came true: torrential rain, gale-force winds, hail, and thick fog all hit at once. At the back of the group, I endured many times more suffering than the others. The people in front escaped death by the skin of their teeth, but Death had grabbed my ankle and was dragging me back. Once, we took a bus along the coast. She frowned when she noticed the sea breeze made me cold, closing the window for me and warming my hands with her breath. Now, in the silent mountain forest, I lay on the muddy ground, allowing wind and rain to erode my body as I died without a sound. At the foot of the mountain, several tents had been set up. People were struggling to find firewood to light a campfire for warmth. Jasper used the campfire to light a cigarette for Avery, then obediently lay in her arms. I sat high atop a tent, looking towards where my body lay. Fierce winds whipped up layers of dark clouds that tumbled and rolled. I couldn’t feel the cold at all. The mountain base was so far from me, yet Avery had abandoned me, who had rushed here ill-prepared. With her actions, Avery had shattered the beautiful memories of us that remained in my heart.

People gathered around the campfire. A male colleague who knew me spoke up softly: “Ms. Parker, is Mr. Gray in your tent?” Avery’s tone was mocking: “Mr. Gray? What’s he to you? Has he paid your salary?” Jasper in her arms suddenly became sad, as if feeling left out. Avery quickly comforted him, glaring at that colleague: “Call him Mr. Reed. No, that doesn’t sound good. How about we call our darling ‘Mr. Jasper’, hmm?” The colleague stammered for a while, anxious but helpless: “Mr. Jasper, do you know where that guy at the back went?” Jasper snuggled deeper into Avery’s arms, not answering him. The colleague quietly called over a few subordinates, huddling together: “Let’s go look for Mr. Gray. I don’t think I saw him come back. What if he’s hurt up in the mountains?” They were about to head back up the mountain. Avery had just put Jasper to sleep in the tent. Seeing the group whispering suspiciously, she spoke venomously: “He can walk down by himself. Are you lot trying to die on the mountain, or get us all eaten by wolves?” As if on cue, a chorus of wolf howls echoed from the distant forest. “But, but Mr. Gray is all alone…” That colleague was nearly in tears from anxiety. Avery angrily lifted the tent flap and went back inside, coldly tossing out one last sentence. “How many times have you even spoken to Lucas Gray? What kind of person do you think he is, to risk your lives for him like this? What does it matter to you if he lives or dies?” “I won’t stop anyone who still wants to go look, but from the moment you step into the forest, consider yourselves fired, without even severance pay!” Indeed, these colleagues who had only met me a few times knew I was missing and wanted to find me. While Avery, after eight years together, all the countless money and time I had spent on her, only responded with harsh words. When she was starting her business, I was at the peak of my career, with my songs popular across the country. I put aside all my work to help her research the market. When a boss made her drink three bottles of liquor, I drank them for her out of concern, damaging a singer’s most important asset – my voice. I could only switch to doing rap instead. I accompanied her without complaint as she built the company bit by bit. I didn’t understand what I had done to deserve this from her. What made her so certain I could walk out of the mountains on my own? I couldn’t help but wonder myself. My soul was confined near Avery, watching her enter the tent. Jasper inside was covered with her clothes. As Avery tucked him in, she realized Jasper had only been pretending to sleep, his eyes red from crying. “Baby, don’t cry anymore.” She kissed away his tears lovingly. Jasper hugged her tightly in return. I silently observed everything. Whenever Avery saw me cry, she would always keep her distance. Once when drunk, she finally revealed her true feelings to me: “Lucas, do you know how afraid I am to see your tears? They’re proof of my incompetence.” I had originally thought this was her way of expressing her love for me. But I never considered that women are naturally inclined to pity men – she simply didn’t love me and chose to turn a blind eye. Jasper and Avery were childhood friends. When I first met them, Avery was just a little brat. I was in a band with Avery’s sister Sophia. Sophia pointed at her little sister and told me helplessly: “The little brat wants to come see the world.” So Avery gradually occupied my life. She would play games nearby while I worked, and chat with me during my breaks. When her parents pressured her too much, she showed up at my door on a rainy night, stubbornly silent until I pulled her inside. We gradually got together, secretly married against everyone’s wishes. She tried starting a business. Having entered society earlier, I had met many people, so I helped her negotiate deals. At some point, I noticed Avery increasingly disliked talking about work with me. Whenever the company came up, her face would immediately darken, and she’d throw down her chopsticks and leave. “Don’t just talk to me about money. How did you become this kind of person?” “I know you’re confident in everything you do, but when you’re with me, can’t you be less materialistic?” I felt wronged, thinking of the month I stayed up late investigating competitors, the business partners I had to schmooze with a fake smile, the endless gifts I had to send even though they were useless. My voice ruined from drinking, my body gradually falling ill from inability to adjust. I nodded meekly. I thought, this is the person I love most, I want a future with her. There’s nothing worth arguing about. No matter how bitter or difficult, I’ve come through it all alone. When I first suspected I might be ill, I ignored how Avery kept smiling stupidly at her phone during meals, as if reliving a first love. I recalled those pill bottles not very well hidden in the bedside drawer, which Avery always ignored. But when I went to the hospital alone for a check-up, I saw photos sent from an unknown contact on SnapChat. A man and woman leaning close together, laughing. It was my wife and her childhood friend. I wanted to go crazy, to cry my heart out, to demand why she would do this. But then I saw the location. It was a place where cycling enthusiasts often had accidents. I bought the fastest ticket there, arriving at the team building location, only to receive a few harsh words. My soul felt empty. As she wished, I would never ask about her work again, completely disappearing from her world.

Gloom shrouded the campsite as Sophia rushed there in a hurry. People had called for rescue, and firefighters quickly began search and rescue operations in the mountains after assessing the situation. Avery refused to speak with Sophia, only cuddling with Jasper in their own intimate little world off to the side. Jasper unhappily threw off his jacket. Avery coaxed him, repeatedly picking it up and gently putting it back on him, telling him not to get cold. Sophia chased after Ryan, the colleague who had wanted to search for me earlier, repeatedly asking about what had happened. The more she asked, the more distressed Ryan became: “I don’t know. There was fog and then a hailstorm. Avery told us to go ahead while she brought up the rear. I never saw Lucas again after that.” It seemed Avery had already warned them not to call me “Mr. Gray” anymore, fearing it would upset her darling Jasper. I smiled wryly. Avery finished comforting Jasper and was now nonchalantly brushing his hair by the campfire. The more Sophia heard, the angrier she became. Unable to contain her rage any longer, she yanked Avery away, startling Jasper who nearly toppled into the fire. Avery frantically shielded Jasper, her body shaking with anxiety: “Sis, what are you doing?! Don’t you know my baby gets scared easily!” “Lucas is missing and possibly dead. You were the last one to talk to him. You’re refusing to give the rescue team any information. Do you know you’re sending him to his death?!” Sophia shouted. Avery shook off Sophia’s tight grip on her hand, leisurely fixing every stray hair on Jasper’s head. Back when we were deeply in love, I grew my hair to medium length at the nape of my neck, like those artists. She would smile and say, “Honey, you’re the most handsome to me no matter what hairstyle you have.” Now she said: “Lucas missing and possibly dead? Ha! That man just loves having people worry about him and die for him. He won’t die.” Avery was cold-hearted, remaining unmoved while everyone else worried. Jasper took out a mirror – a wedding anniversary gift I had once lost that Avery had given me – and examined his short hair from different angles. “Babe, should I grow it out a bit?” he asked. “Long hair is for sissies. It’s ugly,” Avery replied with disgust. So the words people say when in love are sweet as honey, but when love is gone, they become invisible daggers that kill. Sophia frowned severely at Jasper: “Why are you two together? Where did Lucas really go?” Jasper had grown up in the shadow of the “neighbor’s kid” Sophia since childhood. Seeing her was like seeing a stern disciplinarian. He hid in Avery’s arms, eyes vacant as he cried: “It wasn’t me. I don’t know anything.” “Sis, you’re overstepping. Why are we together? It’s to make way for you and Lucas!” Avery pulled Jasper behind her, her voice tinged with difficulty. “You think I don’t know what this place is? Mount Cedar is where you confessed to Lucas!”

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When I was five, my mom and I were killed in a car accident. The mastermind behind the accident? My dad—and my mom’s best friend. After collecting two massive insurance payouts, they got married and began their happily-ever-after. Sometimes, that woman would shiver with fear. “What if the dead mother and daughter come back as ghosts to haunt us?” she’d ask. My dad would chuckle and call her superstitious. But what they didn’t know was that I wasn’t dead. And the living me would be far more terrifying than any ghost. It was a stormy night when I was five. I’d eaten a slice of cake from my mom’s best friend, April Frost, and suddenly started vomiting and running a high fever. Panicked, my mom decided to drive me to the hospital herself because the family driver wasn’t home, despite the heavy rain outside. On the most desolate stretch of road, a truck slammed into our car, flipping it over. Two people got out of the truck—a man and a woman. The man was my father. The woman was April Frost. April had been my mom’s best friend since college. After her divorce, she’d claimed she had nowhere to go with her son, so my mom had taken them in. I still remember how April cried back then, clutching my mom’s hands. “Megan, you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” But tonight, April leaned into the wrecked car, her face expressionless, and coldly declared, “Megan’s dead.” My dad, always a coward, stood nearby, pale and muttering to himself, “Dead is good… Only with her dead can we be together…” April was about to agree when something caught her eye. “Wait,” she gasped. “That little brat isn’t in the car!” My dad froze. The two of them peered into the wreckage, searching. Not far away, hidden in the bushes, I pressed my hand over my mouth, trying not to make a sound. Just before she died, my mom had used the last of her strength to push me through the shattered car window. “Josie, run,” she whispered. Now, through the downpour, I could hear my dad’s voice. “She’s just a kid. Maybe we should let her go?” “No way,” April snapped. “We can’t leave loose ends. She’s five—old enough to talk. Do you want her to rat us out?” “Find her. She couldn’t have gone far in her condition.” A flashlight beam swept through the bushes behind me. I crawled forward, desperate to get away. Rain pelted my feverish body like cold, sharp stones. Branches scratched my skin, but I didn’t care. I had only one thought: I had to survive. Because only if I survived could I avenge my mom. I don’t know how far I crawled, but eventually, I reached the edge of a raging river. Behind me, I heard April scream, “There! She went this way! Look at the tracks!” I had no other choice. I threw myself into the water.

The case was quickly closed. A truck driver, exhausted from working long hours, had crashed into Megan and her daughter’s car. Megan died on the spot, while her daughter, Josie, fled the scene in panic and accidentally fell into the river. Because of the heavy rain that night, the river was swollen. Josie’s body was never recovered, and it was assumed she had been swept out to sea. The road’s surveillance cameras had been broken for months. A terminally ill truck driver was paid to take the blame. Four years later, I was officially declared dead. My mom and I had both been insured for enormous sums of money, with my dad as the beneficiary. With two massive payouts, my dad’s failing business suddenly turned around. A stroke of luck (or maybe sheer audacity) propelled him to become one of the wealthiest men in the fictional city of Riverpoint. He married April, and she became the picture-perfect trophy wife, flaunting designer bags, watches, and jewelry on social media. They even had another child, giving her son from her first marriage a sibling. Together, the four of them were the portrait of a happy, thriving family. April, ironically, was deeply religious. She made generous donations to temples every year and collected blessed prayer beads to ward off evil. My dad, on the other hand, loved playing the philanthropist. He often appeared on TV as a “self-made success story” and a role model for aspiring entrepreneurs. Look at them, Mom. You once taught me that bad people always get what they deserve, that karma would take care of them, and that I should always be kind. But I’ve grown up, and I’ve realized that saying is no more real than Santa Claus. If I want revenge, I’ll have to get it myself. And so, twelve years after that car accident—long enough for everyone to forget it ever happened— I came back.

“Hi, everyone. My name is Joanna Sterling.” On my first day at Riverpoint High School, I introduced myself to the class. The window reflected my image: dressed in a school uniform, my long hair tied neatly into a ponytail, my face pale but striking. The only imperfection was a faint scar at the edge of my eyebrow—a souvenir from the car crash twelve years ago. The classroom buzzed with whispers. “She’s so pretty.” “Isn’t she from some orphanage? I heard she’s a straight-A student.” “Oh my god, she’s like one of those tragic but beautiful heroines from a TV show!” “We even have a male lead to match her, right? What do you think, Finn?” The boy they were talking to was sprawled out in the back row, wearing limited-edition sneakers and chewing gum. Tall, handsome, cocky, and dripping with wealth, he was every inch the bad-boy heartthrob straight out of a teen drama. At the mention of his name, Finn Frost lazily glanced up, his gaze sweeping over me briefly before landing on my chest. “Nope,” he said loudly. “Not my type. She’s barely a B-cup.” The entire class burst into laughter. All eyes turned to me, waiting to see how I’d react. Would I blush in embarrassment? Cry? Look helpless? Instead, I calmly walked over to his desk, glanced at his notebook, and read his name written in the corner. “Nice to meet you, Finn Frost. I’m your new seatmate.” I smiled politely and added, “By the way, I have straight A’s in every subject. If you don’t understand something, feel free to ask me.” For a moment, the room went silent. Then the class erupted into cheers and whistles. Finn tilted his head, surprised, and gave me a second look. I stared back at him, my expression calm, though my heart burned with rage. He didn’t recognize me. But I had never forgotten him. Twelve years ago, when he and his mom first moved into our house, he’d thrown a tantrum demanding oranges. My mom had peeled him one, but after one bite, he’d spat the juice all over her shirt. The juice soaked through her thin summer blouse, and Finn had stared at her chest, laughing. So yes, Finn Frost. I’m genuinely glad to meet you again. Because you’re just as awful as you were twelve years ago.

A week into the school year, everyone knew I had a crush on Finn Frost. Plenty of classmates came to warn me about him, recounting story after story of his bad-boy antics. The so-called “Prince of Lakeside”—as everyone jokingly referred to him—was notorious for dating a different girl every month, only to dump them without a second thought. Girls had cried, begged, and even gone so far as to harm themselves over him. Finn, however, never looked back. But I ignored all the warnings. My attention was solely focused on Finn. After basketball practice, he’d come back to the classroom to find his favorite orange sea-salt sports drink waiting for him on his desk. When the teacher scolded him for not doing his homework, he’d later discover that I’d quietly done it for him after finishing my own. At the time, Finn was dating a beauty queen from the neighboring vocational school. Three weeks in, he grew tired of her and dumped her coldly, leaving her in tears. One day after school, Finn found himself cornered in an alley by a group of guys. When I arrived, the leader of the group was already raising a metal pipe to strike Finn. “Think your money makes you untouchable? I’ll beat the crap out of you, you scumbag!” Just as the pipe was about to come down on Finn, I threw myself in front of him, shielding him with my body. The pipe slammed into my back, and I collapsed into Finn’s arms. “Joanna!” I heard Finn’s panicked voice in my ear. The gang leader, realizing he might have gone too far, quickly called off his crew, and they ran off. Finn tried to chase after them but ultimately returned to help me up. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice unusually gentle. My hair was a mess, and I was in too much pain to stand, but I still managed to ask, “Are you hurt?” When he shook his head, I gave him a faint smile. “That’s all that matters.” Then I passed out. … When I woke up, I was in the hospital. Finn was sitting by my bedside. When he saw me stir, he ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. “It was that witch Emily! She sent those guys after me. Just wait—I’ll make her pay!” I shook my head weakly. “It might not have been her. Think about it—there are so many girls you’ve dumped. Any one of them could’ve wanted revenge.” Finn froze, realizing I had a point. After a moment, he looked at me with a curious expression. “All the girls I’ve dated… doesn’t that bother you?” I lowered my gaze. “Of course it does.” “Then why are you still so nice to me?” I nodded slowly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Because I care about you.” How could I not care, my dearest Finn? Your sneakers, your watches, your extravagant spending on girls—all of it came from the blood money my mom’s insurance paid out. For twelve years, I’ve kept photos of you and your family on my nightstand, carving countless knife marks into them. Finn smirked and ruffled my hair. “What a little simp. You’re gorgeous, and yet here you are, chasing after me.” He pulled something out of his bag and tossed it onto my lap. It was an invitation. “Alright, fine. I’m single now, so let’s give this a shot. My birthday party’s next weekend. Come by—and wear something nice.” The invitation had his home address on it. That house was purchased with the insurance money from my mom’s death. It had round-the-clock security at the gates, making it impossible for anyone unauthorized to enter. But with this invitation, I’d have no trouble getting inside. “I’ll be there,” I said, clutching the invitation tightly, my voice trembling with excitement. Finn laughed. “Look at you. So easy to please.” I didn’t care what he said. After leaving the hospital, I walked into a deserted alley. In the shadows, the gang leader who’d attacked Finn was waiting for me. I handed him a wad of cash. “Good job. I’ll call you if I need you again.” Once he left, I pulled out the invitation and ran my fingers over it, over and over. A surge of joy filled my chest. Dad. April. It’s been twelve long years. We’re finally going to meet again.

Early Saturday morning, I arrived at Finn’s house. The other guests hadn’t shown up yet—the only people there were the housekeepers, busy decorating the living room with flowers and balloons. I had dressed with extra care that day: a sleek off-shoulder black dress that highlighted my pale skin, my hair elegantly pinned up, with pearls adorning my hair, neck, and wrists, shimmering softly in the light. When Finn saw me, his eyes lit up. “Wow, simp! You really cleaned up today.” I subtly dodged his outstretched hand and lowered my gaze, bowing slightly to the man standing behind him. “Good morning, sir.” Finn blinked in surprise and turned around. Behind him was a middle-aged man with a large belly, dressed in an expensive silk robe, his face clouded with suspicion. The housekeepers greeted him respectfully. “Good morning, Mr. Lee.” In my heart, I greeted him too. Hello, Dad. Mr. Lee pushed past the housekeepers and strode toward me, his sharp eyes scanning my face. After a moment, he turned to Finn. “Who’s this?” For a split second, my heart skipped a beat. “My classmate,” Finn said casually. My dad sneered. “Classmate?” He turned back to me, his gaze narrowing. “Don’t think I don’t know who you are…” I lowered my eyes, feigning nervousness. Then he said, with a heavy dose of scorn, “You’re Finn’s girlfriend, right?” Relief washed over me silently. Everything was going according to plan. It had been twelve years since I’d last seen him. I was no longer the little girl he had tried to kill. My appearance had changed so much that he didn’t recognize me. I shook my head, my voice small and frightened. “No, sir… that’s not it…” He snorted. “Whatever. This isn’t the first time you’ve dated someone, Finn. I don’t care what you do, but keep your girlfriends out of my sight.” With that, he turned and walked away. Finn muttered angrily under his breath, “Stupid old man.” I said nothing, already calculating my next move. So far, everything was progressing as expected. Finn would get me into this house, but if I wanted to stay, I’d need another plan. And I’d already thought of one. I helped the housekeepers decorate the living room for a while as more classmates began to arrive. When Finn was distracted greeting them, I slipped away and made my way upstairs. I set my sights on the room at the far end of the second floor—the one my dad had just entered. From behind the closed door, I could hear his angry voice shouting.

“I’m paying you a fortune every hour, and this is what you’ve done with my son?!” When I reached the door, a stack of test papers flew past me, scattering across the hallway. Each score was shockingly low—20s, 30s at best. Inside the study, my dad was berating a young woman who looked like a college student. “A so-called Ivy League graduate, huh? You can’t even handle tutoring a little kid. People like you are nothing but trash when you get out into the real world!” He was on a roll, and the girl was already sniffling, barely holding back her tears. Next to her sat a young boy, idly dragging a ruler across the desk with a blank expression. That was Liam Frost, my dad’s only son with April Frost—Finn’s half-brother. Seeing my dad about to leave the room, I quickly ducked into the shadows of the hallway. After he stormed out, the girl followed shortly after, tears streaming down her face as she walked. I stepped forward just in time, offering her a tissue. “Are you okay?” She was at her most vulnerable, and my small act of kindness caused her to break down completely. She vented through her sobs: “That kid is a little demon! I tried to teach him something, and he flipped my skirt! When I told him to stop, he kicked me in the knee—look at this bruise!” She lifted the hem of her pants slightly, exposing a nasty purple mark. Gripping my hand, she begged, “You’re not here to tutor him too, are you? Don’t do it. No amount of money is worth dealing with that monster…” I murmured a few comforting words until she left. Then I quietly slipped into the study. Inside, Liam was lounging on the desk, holding a kitten in his arms. He was using a lighter to singe the end of its tail. The kitten let out a sharp, pitiful yowl. When he saw me, he smiled, his eyes roaming over my face, chest, and legs. “Oh, look. Another new tutor. Not bad—definitely prettier than the last one.” His smile was like the slimy skin of a toad—disgusting to behold. But I simply smiled back. “Liam, you really shouldn’t be scaring off your tutors like that.” He froze, surprised. “You know my name?” While he was distracted, the kitten wriggled free from his grasp and bolted out of the room. I walked over to the desk and picked up his workbook, speaking in a soft tone. “Not only do I know your name, but I also know you’re a very special kind of genius.” For a moment, Liam looked stunned. Then his face lit up with excitement. “Really? But all the teachers at school say I’m not normal.” He wasn’t wrong. I’d done my research on Liam Frost. He had XYY syndrome—a rare chromosomal condition linked to heightened aggression, violent tendencies, and antisocial behavior. April had known about his condition during her pregnancy. But she chose to keep the baby anyway. It wasn’t out of love. At the time, she’d just moved into my family’s house and was plotting to kill my mom and take her place. She needed this baby, someone to tie my dad to her forever and turn him into her accomplice. April forged a clean prenatal test result to show my dad, hiding Liam’s real diagnosis. Now, at ten years old, Liam’s violent tendencies were impossible to ignore. He was notorious at school for his behavior—once throwing a younger classmate out of a second-story window, breaking several of the boy’s bones. But to my dad, Liam could do no wrong. He dismissed his son’s behavior as “typical boyish mischief.” “Boys are supposed to be a little wild,” my dad would say. “It’s a good thing he’s so full of energy. He’s strong and spirited—that’s what matters.” I gently patted Liam’s head. “Don’t worry about what other people think. They just don’t understand you. “Your dad loves you, but even he doesn’t fully get you. That’s why he keeps hiring these tutors—to try and ‘fix’ you. But someone as brilliant as you doesn’t need to waste time on boring stuff like schoolwork.” Liam frowned. “But Dad said if my grades don’t improve, he’s canceling our trip to New Zealand.” I leaned in, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “Good grades don’t come from studying. “Cheating on tests, bribing teachers—those are the real rules of this world.” Liam’s eyes lit up, his pupils practically sparkling with excitement. “I like you, big sis.” As he spoke, his hand brushed against my leg. I swallowed the wave of nausea that rose inside me and forced a warm smile. Half an hour later, my dad returned to the study. What he saw left him speechless. Liam was sitting obediently at the desk, diligently practicing his spelling as I dictated words to him. Smiling, I handed my dad a test paper. “Liam’s incredibly smart. I only needed to explain this once, and he aced it.” My dad looked down at the test—nearly a perfect score. He was skeptical, but the handwriting was undeniably Liam’s. (And of course, it was. Unlike the other tutors who tried to teach Liam, I’d simply handed him the answers to copy.) “The other tutors were terrible—I couldn’t understand anything they said,” Liam chimed in, pointing to me. “But Joanna makes it so easy to learn! Dad, I want her to be my tutor from now on. No more hiring anyone else!” Overjoyed by Liam’s sudden “improvement,” my dad readily agreed. “I won’t interfere with you and Finn anymore,” he told me. “Teach my son well, and you’ll be rewarded generously.” After he left, Liam turned to me, narrowing his eyes. “What’s this about you and my brother?” I met his gaze calmly, smiling faintly. “Nothing. We’re just classmates.” Liam relaxed. “Good. I hate that idiot. Always sucking up to my mom, trying to steal her attention from me.” “Don’t worry about him,” I said soothingly. “You’re the real heir to this family. Everything your dad has will be yours someday.” A wicked, excited gleam appeared in Liam’s eyes. “Does that include you?” I kept my smile steady, my voice soft and even. “Of course.”

By the time I returned to the living room, Finn Frost’s birthday party was winding down. “Where the hell were you?” Finn grumbled. I smiled lightly. “Touching up my makeup.” I had, in fact, reapplied my makeup to perfection. Under the bright party lights, my skin seemed to shimmer like it had been dusted with gold. Finn was momentarily mesmerized, his gaze trailing over me. Unable to resist, he draped an arm around my shoulders, his hand lingering on my skin. When I tried to push him away, he tightened his grip, his breath tickling my ear as he laughed. “What’s the problem, little simp? I’m your boyfriend, aren’t I? Can’t I touch what’s mine?” I lowered my gaze, giving him a reluctant smile tinged with discomfort. Finn mistook my reaction for shyness and laughed even harder, teasing me in front of everyone. What he didn’t realize was that, across the room, a pair of cold, menacing eyes were watching us intently. Liam Frost. Before anyone could react, Liam moved. He charged straight at Finn, slamming into him with the full force of a 12-year-old running at full speed. Finn, despite his size, was caught off guard and toppled backward, crashing into the coffee table. “What the f—” Finn started, but he didn’t get the chance to finish. In a blur of movement, Liam climbed on top of him, straddling him with surprising strength. “You think you can mess with my stuff? I’ll kill you!” Liam screamed, raising something in his hand before stabbing it down into Finn’s hand. It was a pen. The sharp tip pierced Finn’s hand, and blood mixed with ink as it splattered everywhere. Finn howled in pain, his scream echoing through the living room. But he wasn’t about to go down without a fight. With a grunt, he drove his elbow into Liam’s face, sending the boy flying off him. “Crazy little bastard!” Finn roared, his voice filled with rage. Liam hit the floor hard, his body convulsing for a moment before he spat out a mouthful of blood—and with it, one of his teeth. But Finn wasn’t done. Ignoring the blood streaming from his injured hand, he stormed over to Liam and kicked him viciously in the stomach. “You want to die, huh?! Is that it?!” The living room erupted into chaos. Partygoers screamed and scrambled to get away. A housekeeper shouted, “Where’s Mr. Lee? Someone get Mr. Lee!” By the time my dad arrived, Finn had Liam pinned to the ground, his fist raised to strike again. “What the hell are you doing?!” my dad bellowed as he rushed into the room. He kicked Finn off Liam and scooped his son into his arms. “Liam, Liam, wake up!” Liam’s face was a bloody mess, his nose and mouth dripping crimson as he whimpered weakly. “Call 911!” my dad shouted, his voice trembling with fury. He shot Finn a murderous glare. “Wait right here, you little shit. You’ll pay for this!” Finn, held back by two of my dad’s bodyguards, raised his injured hand. “He stabbed me first! That psycho stabbed me with a pen!” My dad didn’t care. “He’s twelve! He doesn’t know any better! And you beat the crap out of him like this?!” In my dad’s arms, Liam sobbed weakly, his voice trembling. “Dad loves me more than him… That’s why he’s mad… He takes it out on me…” My dad’s face darkened with rage. He carried Liam out of the room, shouting orders to the staff as he went. The bodyguards and housekeepers followed, leaving Finn behind. Finn stood there, shaking with fury. Grabbing a fruit bowl from the table, he hurled it at the retreating crowd. “What the hell are you all looking at? Get out of here!” The remaining partygoers scattered in fear. When he turned and noticed I was still there, his glare deepened. “Why are you still here? Get lost!” I didn’t move. Instead, I walked up to him and gently patted his back, my voice soft and soothing. “Your dad’s being so unfair to you. I mean, even if Liam is his biological son, he shouldn’t treat you like this.” Finn’s jaw clenched, his hands trembling with suppressed rage. Everyone outside this house saw Finn as a spoiled rich kid, the golden boy of a prominent family. But inside these walls, the distinction between stepchild and biological child was painfully obvious. I’d hit a nerve. “He treats that little psycho like he’s a treasure,” Finn spat. “Like he’s some kind of prince. And me? I’m nothing.” I sighed, feigning sympathy. “It’s because this is his empire. He’s a Lee, and you’re a Frost. Blood always matters in the end.” Finn’s shoulders stiffened. His voice was a snarl. “You don’t know anything! If it weren’t for my mom, he’d be bankrupt by now. This whole empire? It should’ve been ours!” I nodded, pretending to agree. “Exactly. Everyone knows your mom saved his business. If it weren’t for her, he’d have nothing. But isn’t it funny how people forget? Once they’re on top, they bite the hand that fed them…” My words trailed off as I watched the anger in Finn’s eyes grow darker and darker. Mom, I still remember the time you bought me crickets when I was little. I thought it would be fun to put them all in the same box, but by the next morning, they were all dead. I cried so much that day. You told me they needed to be kept separate, or they’d fight each other to death. I’m not that little girl anymore. I’ve learned how to make my “crickets” fight—and I’ve discovered there’s nothing more satisfying than watching them tear each other apart. Which one do you think will fall first? While Liam was in the hospital, I stayed at the mansion, keeping Finn company. As the only person by his side during this rough patch, Finn’s trust in me deepened quickly. One night, he even said, “Joanna, when I inherit everything, I’ll marry you.” Feigning surprise and gratitude, I replied, “I don’t care about the money. As long as I have your heart, I’m happy.” But every night, when Finn pressed me to stay, I insisted on going home. “My mom’s waiting for me.” Finn frowned. “Mom? I thought you were an orphan.” I smiled. “I meant my foster mom.” At first, he didn’t believe me. “You’re lying. You’ve never mentioned her before.” But soon, a sleek white car pulled up outside the mansion. A graceful woman in a silk dress stepped out and waved. “It’s late, Finn. Joanna needs to come home. She’ll see you tomorrow.” Reluctantly, Finn let me go. As I climbed into the car, the woman glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Back to Bluefield Academy?” Bluefield Academy was where I’d grown up—a semi-charitable institution that had taken me in after I was pulled from the river. The woman who saved me was Nora Sinclair, the academy’s director. Quiet but powerful, she had connections everywhere. Every piece of information I needed for my plan, she had uncovered for me. As exhaustion weighed on me, I longed to return to my little room at Bluefield and sleep. But I knew I couldn’t. My revenge was far from over. Rest would have to wait. “Take me to the hospital,” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “296145”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic #校园School #重生Reborn #惊悚Thriller

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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