After my parents passed away, I was taken in by Colonel Gerald Sutton, my grandfather’s old comrade. Amara Sutton, twelve years older than me, told me she would take care of me from then on. And she did. She showered me with blatant, unapologetic favoritism. But on the day I finished my college entrance exams, I couldn’t hold back anymore—I confessed to her. Amara pushed me away, disappointment etched on her face. “Get a grip, Cole! I’m twelve years older than you—I’m your guardian!” Later, she brought home Damon Lockhart, the man I had never gotten along with since childhood. And for him, she pushed me off the edge of Ravencliff Canyon. When I woke up in the ambulance, I dialed a number I had been holding onto for a long time. Content The day Amara invited me hiking, rescue workers found me unconscious at the bottom of Ravencliff Canyon. They performed CPR and bandaged my wounds. I finally regained some semblance of consciousness, clawing my way back from the brink. The suffocating sensation of near-death still lingered in my nerves. Thankfully, the canyon wasn’t too deep; I only ended up with minor fractures. But Amara had already left with Damon Lockhart. She didn’t care if I lived or died. All it took was one word from Damon: “Let him see what it feels like to take a fall.” So, she pushed me off. But I had never been alone with Damon. I had no idea how he ended up bruised and battered, rolling down the hill. Damon lay curled up, clutching his leg, trying to appear in agony while stealing glances at me. “Amara, it’s my own clumsiness. Don’t blame anyone else.” Amara immediately decided I was the culprit. “Cole Whitmore, all these years I raised you were a waste. How dare you do something so ungrateful!” Damon was the man she loved most in her life. For him, she would turn on me without hesitation. No matter how hard I tried, I was just the foster son. Her disdain for me must have started on the day of my graduation party. That day, I had too much fun with my classmates, getting drunk for the first time in a karaoke lounge. Amara drove to pick me up, helping me into the passenger seat and leaning over to buckle my seatbelt. Under the influence of alcohol, my mind was filled with thoughts of Amara’s kindness. I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her neck and whisper my confession into her ear. The object of my twelve-year-long crush was none other than Amara Sutton. Her expression changed instantly. She shoved me away, disappointment clouding her features. “Cole Whitmore! I told you to call me Aunt Amara, not by my name!” “I won’t! Amara is just Amara—not my aunt. We’re not even related by blood. At most, I can call you my sister!” Amara flew into a rage. In her eyes, my defiance was nothing more than teenage rebellion. Our relationship grew more strained by the day. With her looks and charm, plenty of men were eager to court her. Yet she waited until she was 34 to announce her engagement. People whispered that I was the reason she delayed marriage, saying she spent all her time raising a foster son with no room to find love. Things only worsened after Damon Lockhart showed up. Amara’s patience with me wore thinner with every passing day. I knew it was time for me to leave. Resolving myself, I called Mrs. Fiona Ellis, my late mother’s friend. “Mrs. Ellis, I’ve made up my mind. I’m moving to San Francisco and will accept the Prescott family’s proposal.” Her tone was heavy with concern. “Cole, are you okay? This is a lifelong decision. Don’t make it impulsively.” When my parents died, Mrs. Ellis had intended to adopt me. But Colonel Sutton, pitying his comrade’s orphaned grandson, had taken me in first. Before he passed away, he left a will asking Amara to look after me for life. “I’m fine. I’ve thought it through. Once I settle things here, I’ll book a flight for next month.” She was quiet for a moment before replying. “Alright, I’ll support your choice. If you need advice, don’t hesitate to reach out.” “Thank you. Amara is getting married soon. I want to say goodbye properly.” Mrs. Ellis agreed. “She raised you for over a decade. Make sure to thank her—and don’t forget a wedding gift.” Rain fell cold and steady over New York City’s gray skies. I had already decided what wedding gift to give. Back at the Sutton Estate, I found Damon lounging on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other. Amara was kneeling at his feet, gently massaging his ankle. The sight was like a dagger to my heart. When Damon saw me, he greeted me with exaggerated concern. “Cole’s back! You’re not hurt, are you? Amara can be so harsh sometimes…” Amara cut him off with a cold glare. “He brought it on himself.” Her five words shattered what little remained of my resolve. Indeed, it was my fault. I should never have fallen for Amara. I climbed the stairs in silence, pretending not to see their affection. The housekeeper emerged from my art studio, carrying an armful of things, leaving the room nearly empty. She looked uncomfortable as she explained, “Sir, this room has the best lighting. Miss Sutton wants to turn it into a nursery.” I stared at the paintings tossed aside like garbage. Once, Amara had told me I was a genius, a future great artist. She had emptied the best-lit room for me to use as a studio, promising to give me the best the world could offer. Now, the shards of my heart couldn’t even muster pain anymore. I forced a faint smile. “It’s fine. I’ll take care of it. Thank you.” The housekeeper hesitated before finally leaving. Among the remnants were old sketches and carefully framed portraits I had drawn of Amara for her birthdays. Packing them into a large box, I stood to find her suddenly at the door.

“Are you running a fever?” Amara Sutton frowned as she walked toward me. The glass window reflected my face, pale and sickly. I had been dizzy all afternoon, my forehead burning. I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.” Better than giving her a reason to call me spoiled. Damon Lockhart was temporarily resting in her bedroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Amara’s hand rise slightly before dropping back down. Her face remained cold as she reprimanded me. “Learn your lesson this time. Don’t do anything so stupid again.” “You’re an adult. Acting jealous is just childish.” Amara knew I had feelings for her. She had no trouble dismissing my sincerity as meaningless. I pressed my lips together, refusing to admit any fault. Her patience grew thinner. “Damon and I are getting married next month. Don’t create any trouble for me.” “If something like today happens again, you can pack your things and leave.” She left me with that cruel warning and walked away, her figure disappearing down the hallway. The Amara I once knew—gentle, patient, protective—was long gone. There was a time when Amara would have charged into my school to defend me. When classmates bullied me, she showed up in the principal’s office, raising hell. She even sent one of their parents to the hospital. She didn’t care about paying for medical expenses—she just wanted justice for me. When I was sick and needed surgery, she stayed by my bedside for days without sleeping. She even gave up a multimillion-dollar contract to make sure I was safe. Back then, she would light candles in church, praying for my health and well-being. Now, I carried the box of what little remained of my belongings down the stairs. I tossed it into the trash, staring at the pieces of my past. What was the point of keeping photos and gifts? Amara no longer belonged to me. That day, they were going to pick up a car—a wedding gift from Amara to Damon. Damon, always eager to show his dominance, called out to me deliberately in front of her. “Hey, Cole, why don’t you join us?” “I could use your opinion. I might not have the best eye for these things.” He wanted me there, not for advice, but to rub salt in my wounds. I kept my composure and smiled. “I think I’ll pass. I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time together.” Besides, I was busy erasing every trace of my existence from the Sutton Estate. I needed to save up enough to repay the years of kindness I owed Amara and finally leave for good. Amara looked at me with a sharp, lingering gaze, as if daring me to hold onto some shred of hope. “Get in the back seat,” she ordered firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Be good, Cole. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Reluctantly, I followed them to the dealership. Damon drove, chatting and laughing with Amara the entire way. At a red light, she peeled an orange for him, feeding him a piece. I remember how much she hated the smell of oranges. But now, she didn’t even flinch, methodically peeling one after another for him. Turning away, I stared out the window, catching a glimpse of Damon’s smug grin reflected in the glass. “Hey, Cole, what do you think? The first one, or this one here?” This dealership was one of the most exclusive in New York City. The price tags on their cars started at seven figures. It was clear how much Amara cared for him. “They’re both fine,” I replied, unwilling to commit. My hesitation seemed to satisfy Damon. “What about you, babe? What do you think?” Amara, distracted by her phone, took a few moments before answering. “The first one,” she said simply. Damon beamed. “Alright, let’s take another look at your pick.” “Why don’t you sit in the passenger seat with me, Amara? I’m worried I might scratch it.” Despite my reluctance, Amara’s stern gaze forced me to join them for the test drive. The car started moving slowly. I barely had time to help Damon adjust his mirrors before we heard a loud crash. The car had backed into a pillar. “Dammit!” Damon shrieked, his voice trembling. Amara rushed over, her expression darkening as she looked at the damaged car, then back at us. “What happened?”

Damon Lockhart’s voice trembled. “Amara, if you don’t want me to take the car, I won’t. But why would you—” A dealership employee rushed over, gasping at the crumpled rear end. “Miss Sutton, look at this!” The air grew heavy with silence. Then came the slap, loud and stinging. My cheek burned hot, and I stared at Amara, stunned. “It wasn’t me…” I muttered. Her fury was unrelenting. “Enough! There were only two of you in the car. How much longer are you going to deny it?” “To stoop to such petty tricks… you’ve really let me down, Cole. Apologize to Damon right now!” She was convinced my jealousy had driven me to destroy the luxury car she had chosen for Damon. “This has nothing to do with me, and I won’t apologize.” I held my head high, refusing to let my tears fall as I faced her wrath. Her hand rose again, but Damon stepped in with faux concern. “That’s enough, babe. Just make him pay for the damages. No need to mess up his face any further.” Reluctantly, Amara let the matter drop, leaving me behind. “If you’re bold enough to cause trouble, you can handle the consequences.” She drove away with Damon, her sports car roaring as they sped off. The bill came next—a staggering $888,000. The guards by the door made it clear: if I didn’t pay in full, I wasn’t leaving. Clenching my jaw, I handed over my card, watching as my savings evaporated. I had been carefully setting aside money to repay Amara the $5 million I owed for my upbringing. This incident set me back even further, forcing me to work even harder to make up for the loss. After graduation, I co-founded a company with friends. Amara had tried to pull me into Sutton Enterprises, but I declined. Had I joined, severing ties with her would’ve been impossible. The company became my escape. I poured myself into it—late nights, endless meetings, constant hustling to land deals and build partnerships. For months, I avoided speaking to Amara entirely. Then one night, I saw her through the glass window of a karaoke lounge. She sat at the center of a crowd, surrounded by laughter and admiration. Damon sat beside her, their chairs too close for comfort. The group egged them on, demanding they toast together. Damon turned to her expectantly, his eyes gleaming. Amara hesitated, her gaze drifting toward the door. I ducked behind the wall, holding my breath. Moments later, her voice floated out—soft, yet firm. “Alright.” The crowd erupted into cheers, celebrating their “perfect love story.” By the time I returned to my seat, my phone was lighting up with social media notifications. Photos of them drinking together, Damon’s hand on her wrist, even a candid of him leaning in to kiss her. I hit “like” on the post, my expression unreadable. Turning back to my clients, I smiled, pouring drinks and singing to close the deal. When I finally walked out with the signed contract, I felt a strange sense of relief. The money was enough to settle my debt with Amara. I stumbled into the Sutton Estate, drunk and exhausted. The house was dark, but her silhouette was unmistakable, her piercing eyes cutting through the gloom. “What kind of business requires you to be in a place like that?” Her tone was cold, accusatory. “And what kind of place would that be?” I asked, smirking. Her expression hardened. She thought I had been following her. “Why can you go there, but I can’t?” The alcohol loosened my tongue, making my voice sharper than intended. She blinked, taken aback. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from shady crowds like that?” “I must’ve forgotten,” I replied, brushing past her. “Cole Whitmore!” The sound of shattering glass echoed behind me. Shards of the tea cup skittered across the floor, cutting into my leg and drawing blood. “Stop trying to get my attention,” she snapped. “It’s useless. All you’re doing is humiliating yourself.” She stormed off, slamming her door behind her. I sighed, cleaning and bandaging the cut before collapsing onto my bed. Maybe it was the fall at Ravencliff Canyon, or the alcohol, but my body burned with fever that night. In my haze, I thought I saw her sitting by my bedside.

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On the eve of the Wall Street Market crash, I chose to withdraw from the American Stock Tycoon Championship. Both of my so-called childhood friends bombarded me with calls, ordering me to keep competing. I hung up, yanked out the SIM card, flushed it down the toilet, and made myself a bowl of instant noodles. While the stock market roared on, I binged a TV series. In my past life, after I won the championship, the fake heir stormed the stage, tearfully accusing me of stealing his stock trading strategies. My two childhood friends turned on me, each slapping me across the face, publicly denouncing me as a fraud. The fake heir was elevated to “stock market god” status, amassing thousands of adoring fans. Meanwhile, I was ostracized, canceled online, and branded a copycat. In the end, one of his obsessed fans pushed me off a skyscraper—Midtown Manhattan Penthouse. I died instantly. This time around, I bowed out of the championship entirely. As for Ryder Hartwell, the fake heir, I want to see how he’ll survive the impending 2008 Financial Crisis. …… Content

“Hunter, what are you doing sleeping here? Did studying the stock market wear you out?” Felicity “Lissy” Dawson’s crisp voice pulled me back to reality as she gently patted my shoulder. I blinked at her in disbelief, my mind a blank slate. Genevieve “Eve” Lockwood touched the back of my hand, her expression filled with admiration. “I brought your favorite strawberry cake. Come on, take a break,” she said, tearing open the packaging and scooping a piece to feed me. The sweet scent of strawberry wafted toward me as the spoon hovered near my lips. The moment the strawberry touched my lips, a shiver ran through me. I’ve been reborn. The horrifying memory of free-falling from a skyscraper and the sharp pain of my head splitting open felt like a distant nightmare. Seeing me sit there dazed, Genevieve frowned, her tone displeased. “The Stock Tycoon Championship is pushing you too hard. I’ll call my sponsor to lock in the win for you.” Lissy smirked. “I can’t stand Genevieve’s bossy billionaire act, but seeing you like this, Hunter, I’ll back her this time.” In the past, I would have pushed back. “Don’t interfere. I have my own career to focus on.” But now, all I felt was dread. These two women, once my closest allies, now seemed more like sinister messengers from hell. Lissy and I grew up together in the Starlight Haven Orphanage, supporting each other through thick and thin. Genevieve first came into our lives when she was five, tagging along with her parents during one of their orphanage inspections. She snuck off to play, fell into a pond, and Lissy and I saved her. From then on, our trio was inseparable. When I turned eighteen, both Genevieve and Lissy confessed their feelings to me, each vowing to stay by my side forever. But everything changed when Ryder Hartwell came into the picture. In my past life, during the American Stock Tycoon Championship, I led my team to navigate the financial crisis unscathed. Then Ryder emerged, accusing me of stealing his stock trading strategies. I showed my analysis and trading simulations to prove my innocence. But Ryder revealed videos of his stock predictions, each posted an hour before my simulations were logged. That was when Genevieve and Lissy arrived. I’d expected them to defend me. Instead, they turned cold, their words laced with disappointment. “You’re just jealous of Ryder!” “Stealing his parents wasn’t enough for you? Now you’re stealing his stock strategies? How low can you go?” Their betrayal was a knife to the chest. Ryder became a celebrated financial prodigy, showered with accolades and admiration. Meanwhile, I was branded a fraud, endlessly harassed online, and isolated. It all culminated in my untimely death—pushed off my own penthouse by one of Ryder’s rabid fans. Not this time. Never again. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. My chest burned with rage. This time, I’ll strip away their façades, expose their lies, and take back everything that was stolen from me. I forced down the bile rising in my throat and smiled faintly. “I’m withdrawing from the Stock Tycoon Championship.” The sympathy on their faces vanished instantly. Genevieve rubbed her temples, irritated. “Don’t be dramatic. Withdrawing isn’t a joke.” Lissy chimed in, “Exactly. You said you wanted to prove yourself. Was that just talk?” I cut them off, my tone flat. “I’ll stay in the competition… if Ryder withdraws.” Genevieve slammed her hand on the table. “Why? Ryder already gave you the Sterling family name. Can’t you leave him alone?” Her frustration boiled over as she flung the strawberry cake onto the floor. It splattered like a crushed dream. I stared at the mess, my voice cold. “Gave? Let’s call it what it is. He stole my place for twenty-three years—my family, my name. Every time I see him, I’m reminded of the years I spent starving and scavenging just to pay for school.” Lissy frowned. “That’s all in the past, Hunter. It wasn’t Ryder’s fault…” I didn’t bother arguing further. I shut my laptop and motioned toward the door. “You can see yourselves out.”

The two of them stood outside my door, pounding on it so hard the sound reverberated through the hallway. “Hunter Sterling! My patience is wearing thin. You’ve got one minute—open this door, now!” Genevieve “Eve” Lockwood barked, her tone sharp with fury. Felicity “Lissy” Dawson, on the other hand, sounded calm—though her words cut just as deep. “Hunter, why are you making life hard for Ryder? Just because you’ve walked through the rain doesn’t mean you need to tear up someone else’s umbrella.” In my past life, I thought Eve, while bossy, had some kind of moral bottom line. Lissy? I respected her rise from orphan to tech magnate. But now, they looked like confused, entitled fools. I almost opened the door to shoo them away when I heard Ryder Hartwell’s voice, dripping with fake concern. “Eve, Lissy, is Hunter really locking you out?” Eve cleared her throat, embarrassed. “It’s nothing. What are you doing here?” Lissy forced a smile. “Aren’t you busy prepping for the American Stock Tycoon Championship? What brought you back?” Ryder’s tone dropped into something resembling guilt. “I… I want to withdraw.” Lissy narrowed her eyes. “Did someone threaten you?” “No… no one,” Ryder stammered, looking down. “It’s just… I’ve taken so much from Hunter—his family, his name. I owe him that much.” Tears welled in his eyes as he looked at them both. “Don’t blame Hunter, okay? This is my choice. I even offered him my trading strategies. He didn’t steal from me.” “What did you just say?!” Eve yanked him by the arm, her eyes blazing. “Are you telling me Hunter’s been stealing your trading strategies?” Ryder flushed, mumbling, “Eve, not so loud…” Eve let go of his arm, but the damage was done. Ryder wiped his tears and forced a shaky smile. “It’s okay. I can handle this.” The tears spilling onto Eve’s hand seemed to light a fire in her. “That’s it!” she declared. “Hunter Sterling needs to apologize—now!” At that, I swung open the door, her foot mid-kick. Her leg froze awkwardly in the air. “Apologize? For what, exactly?” I crossed my arms. Eve grabbed Lissy’s arm, pulling her aside to stare me down. “You stole Ryder’s trading strategies and kicked him out of the Sterling Estate. You’re disgusting, Hunter!” As if on cue, venomous words spilled from both of them, condemning me without so much as a shred of proof. I had no time for their nonsense. I pulled out my phone and called security. “There’s an unauthorized entry into my apartment. Please handle it.” The building’s private security team arrived swiftly. Within a minute, ten guards were at my door. Ryder’s face flushed red, then pale. Tugging on Eve’s and Lissy’s sleeves, he whispered, “This isn’t my home anymore. If Hunter wants us to leave, we should go.” Lissy shot me a disgusted glare, and Eve clenched her teeth. “Fine. Let’s go.” As she stormed out, Eve paused in the doorway to hiss, “Hunter Sterling, as long as I’m around, you’ll never lay a finger on Ryder!” Then she slammed the door behind her. The apartment fell silent. I took a deep breath and began packing. If Ryder could steal my stock strategies in my last life, he could do it again. The Sterling Estate wasn’t safe. Maybe there were hidden cameras in my room. Maybe he had some virus planted in my laptop. Whatever the case, I needed to cut all ties. I grabbed my suitcase and left, hailing a cab to my secret apartment downtown—a Midtown Manhattan Penthouse I’d bought with my stock earnings. Not even Lissy and Eve knew about it. That night, I microwaved some frozen dumplings, ate in peace, and holed up in my study to analyze the market. The stock market had been on a prolonged bull run, but the data hinted at a downturn on the horizon. After hours of comparing charts and indicators, I pinpointed a volatile stock with short-term potential. If I bought in at the right moment, I could secure at least a 30% gain. I placed my buy order and ordered breakfast delivery. Satisfied, I opened TikTok out of habit—and froze. Ryder had posted a new video just an hour ago. His smug voice filled the screen: “Buy this volatile stock at the opening dip, and you’ll see a 30% return in no time…” I stopped listening, my fingers tightening around my phone. The exact same stock. The exact same prediction. Blood pooled in my mouth as I bit down on my lip, hard. How? How did he know? This was my private apartment—there was no way he could have installed cameras here. What was I missing?

As I wrestled with the impossible, my doorbell rang. I thought it was the breakfast delivery. Instead, it was Genevieve, Lissy, and Ryder—Ryder in a pristine white suit, trailing behind them like a smug prince. Eve didn’t wait for an invitation. She shoved past me and started inspecting the apartment, her gaze sharp. “If you hadn’t moved out, Ryder wouldn’t have worried about your safety. And we never would’ve found out you live in a place like this,” she scoffed. “Where’d you get the money for this penthouse? What shady business are you involved in?” Lissy picked up an antique vase from the shelf, her lip curling. “A Ming dynasty piece? Really? Hunter, we’ve known you for years, and I never realized you had this kind of wealth.” Her eyes darted to my phone, which still displayed Ryder’s TikTok video. Her expression darkened with disdain. “You’re incorrigible.” Eve grabbed my phone and smashed it onto the floor. “I’ve warned you, Hunter. No one is allowed to hurt Ryder on my watch!” Behind them, Ryder gasped dramatically. “Oh, wow. Look at this,” he stammered, pointing at my open laptop. “Hunter’s so dedicated—he’s even replicating my trading simulations.” Eve and Lissy followed his gaze and immediately rounded on me. “Are you trying to frame him?” Eve demanded. “You’re forging evidence now? Have you no shame?” I stayed silent. Explaining myself was pointless—they’d already made up their minds. Since Ryder’s appearance in our lives, I’d become the villain in their narrative. To them, he was the perfect victim, and I was the monster. Eve’s jaw tightened. “Fine. Stay silent. Let me show you what consequences look like.” She opened TikTok and recorded a video, her camera pointed directly at me. “This is Genevieve Lockwood of Lockwood Industries. I’m officially accusing Hunter Sterling, the current leader of the American Stock Tycoon Championship, of stealing Ryder Hartwell’s trading strategies.” She hit upload without a second thought. Lissy followed suit, reposting it with the caption: “I can confirm the allegations.” The posts went viral in minutes. The comments flooded in: “So he’s not a stock god, but a thief?” “Hunter Sterling, get out of the championship!” “OMG, is this a love triangle? Two powerful women defending Ryder? I’m here for it!” Ryder feigned sorrow, his lips twitching in a barely concealed smirk. “Hunter, just apologize, and I’ll forgive you. Eve and Lissy will even delete their posts.” Eve stomped her foot. “Ryder, you’re too kind for your own good!” Lissy sighed, patting his shoulder. “You’re only encouraging him to keep crossing the line.” The trio continued their theatrical performance, but I’d had enough. “Do I need to call the police,” I asked coldly, “or will you leave on your own?” Ryder’s face fell. “Hunter, you can kick me out, but Eve and Lissy? We’ve been friends since childhood. How can you treat them like this?” Eve shot me a murderous glare. “You’ll regret this.” Lissy’s tone was heavy with fake disappointment. “If this is the path you choose, don’t blame us for what happens next.” They stormed out, colliding with the delivery driver on their way. My breakfast spilled across the floor. The delivery guy stammered an apology, but I waved it off. I’d lost my appetite anyway. I sank onto the couch, replaying Ryder’s smug exit in my mind. His smirk lingered—taunting, confident. A shiver ran down my spine. Bolting upright, I ran to my study and reopened my trading software. If the 2008 Financial Crisis was imminent, I needed to act fast. This was my chance to outmaneuver him. For three sleepless days, I prepared. Finally, I liquidated all my holdings and officially withdrew from the championship. Then I opened Ryder’s TikTok account. Sure enough, an hour earlier, he’d posted a video titled: “Stock Market Collapse Incoming—Sell Everything!” Genevieve and Lissy had already reposted it with glowing endorsements. I smiled faintly. The trap was set.

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Caleb Vaughn and I spent half our lives locked in a miserable marriage. Before the end, we glared at each other, hurling our most venomous curses, wishing to never meet again in another life. He hated me for tying him down with marriage and children, robbing him of his dream to move to Los Angeles and become a singer. I hated him for spending all his time partying while leaving his ailing parents and our two children solely in my care. And then, amid the resentment, we were reborn. Our eyes met across the crowd, and without hesitation, we turned and walked away in opposite directions. This time, I hope neither of us regrets it. Content The day I changed my college application, Dad walked into my room, glanced at my computer, and gave an approving nod. “Good. With grades like yours, you should go to a top university. Quit wasting your time running after that Vaughn kid. What’s so great about him anyway?” Mom, overhearing from the kitchen, rushed in and tugged Dad out of the room, giving him a sharp glare. I watched them leave, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips before a sudden wave of sadness hit me. In my past life, I had run out late at night to the Willow Creek Train Depot to find Caleb. My parents, worried, went looking for me and were hit by a drunk truck driver. I never got to say goodbye. Swallowing my tears, I moved my mouse and pressed the confirm button on my application without hesitation.

In my past life, Caleb Vaughn, my childhood best friend, suddenly announced he wanted to become a singer and move to L.A. to chase his dreams. But before that, he had always said that staying together and attending the same college was his dream. For him, I threw away my near-perfect SAT score and applied to Greenfield Community College, the same small school he chose. But just two days before the acceptance letters arrived, he decided to leave for L.A. That night, Mrs. Eleanor Vaughn and Mr. Daniel Vaughn showed up at our door, begging me to find their son. I went. My parents, worried sick, followed and were killed in an accident. When I finally dragged Caleb back, his parents blamed him for my parents’ deaths and insisted he make amends by marrying me. So, I forced Caleb into an engagement. The plan was to marry after graduation, but by sophomore year, I was pregnant and had to drop out. The whirlwind of getting married, having a baby, and managing a household swallowed two years of my life. I was excited to return to school until Caleb’s parents fell ill and moved in with us. Caleb told me to be understanding. His parents had sacrificed so much for his education; now they needed care. He, of course, would be the breadwinner. I didn’t mention that his $1,500-a-month job barely covered formula and groceries. Eventually, I sold The Brooks Family Ranch to pay for his parents’ medical bills while raising two children. All the while, Caleb was out spending his measly salary on music equipment and partying with friends, claiming it was for his “dream.” When the burden of family life became unbearable, our arguments escalated. He accused me of being bitter and narrow-minded, blaming me for dragging him back from L.A. and ruining his shot at stardom. He even accused me of weaponizing my parents’ deaths to trap him into marriage. I hit back, calling him delusional for thinking his scratchy voice could ever make him a star. When he brought up my parents again, I snapped and lunged at him, only for him to shove me away violently. After that, Caleb started avoiding home altogether. His parents turned their frustrations on me, accusing me of being petty and difficult, conveniently forgetting how they had begged me to find their son. I worked myself to the bone doing odd jobs to keep the family afloat. But the children I raised with such effort still gravitated toward their father, who barely lifted a finger for them. I thought they’d understand one day, but that day never came. Even after they grew up and started their own families, they chose Caleb over me. “Mom, you were always too controlling. We’re done listening to you.” “Dad’s dreams were crushed because of you. He deserves another chance to go to L.A.” “Grandma and Grandpa were right. You just wanted to control everyone’s lives. You’re selfish!” Heartbroken, I went home only to find Caleb packing his bags with a smug grin, bragging about his “better future” now that he was leaving me behind. After devoting over two decades to this family, all I got was a label of being selfish and controlling. Why did Caleb get to walk away unscathed, hailed as the cool, understanding father? I snapped and shoved him. He grabbed a vase and swung it at me, snarling, “You dare lay a hand on me? I’ll kill you!” And that’s how we both died—mutual destruction. As I lay on the ground bleeding out, my last prayer was simple: If there’s another life, please, don’t let me meet Caleb Vaughn again.

I woke up on the day I was supposed to change my college application. Seeing my parents alive and well, I vowed to cut all ties with Caleb Vaughn. After the SATs, there were endless parties. At one of them, I spotted Caleb laughing with a group of friends nearby. “Did you hear Caleb Vaughn’s dropping out of school to go to L.A. and become a singer?” “Wow, he’s gonna be one of those L.A. Dreamers! We should get his autograph now before he’s famous.” “Leona, you and Caleb grew up together. Did you know he was planning this?” I felt a push from a friend, and my eyes locked with Caleb’s across the crowd. In that instant, I knew—Caleb had been reborn too. “I don’t know anything about it. I’ve got to go.” Without hesitation, I turned and walked away. If he wanted to go to L.A., fine. His life was no longer my concern.

As the day Caleb Vaughn planned to leave for Los Angeles drew closer, I sweet-talked my parents, saying I missed Grandma Mae and wanted to visit her to see the new ducklings on her farm. My parents, who always indulged me, packed up immediately without a second thought. Just as we were heading out, Mrs. Eleanor Vaughn opened her door and looked at us curiously. “Heading out?” she asked. My dad chuckled warmly. “The kid wants to visit her grandma. We’ll be gone for a few days.” Mrs. Vaughn smiled and nodded, her eyes trailing after us as we left. I kept my face neutral, though my fists clenched tightly in anger, nails digging into my palms. How foolish I had been in my previous life to think this woman genuinely cared for me. Only later did I realize her true intentions. She’d had her sights on our family home all along. After my parents passed in a tragic accident, she worked tirelessly to push me and Caleb into marriage, playing the role of the caring neighbor while manipulating the situation for her benefit. In those days, I was a grieving orphan, completely defenseless. Her sweet demeanor and constant care broke through my walls. And because I liked Caleb, I let myself be guided into the marriage. Little did I know, it had all been a calculated plan from the start. I exhaled slowly, suppressing the trembling born of anger. Smiling, I started talking to my parents about Grandma Mae’s new pony, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Caleb rushing by. He had likely realized I had also been reborn, forcing him to speed up his plans to leave. When we arrived at Grandma Mae’s, we sat down to a hearty dinner. The joy of being with my parents and grandma enveloped me, but then my mom’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, frowning. It was Mrs. Vaughn. “Caleb insists on going to Los Angeles to become a singer. He’s refusing to go to school, and now he’s threatening to leave no matter what. Daniel and I can’t convince him. Could Leona come back and talk to him? The two of them are so close—he’ll listen to her!” Mrs. Vaughn’s voice quivered with desperation. Her words mirrored those from my previous life. My mom looked at me, hesitant. Traveling back to Willow Creek at this time would be difficult. I placed my fork down calmly, took the phone, and replied. “Mrs. Vaughn, this is Caleb’s decision. I can’t interfere, and even if I tried, he’d only resent me for it. I think you should respect his choice.” Before she could respond, I hung up, swiftly blocking her number. My efficient actions left my parents stunned. Grandma Mae, ever wise, broke the silence. “Eat your dinner. Other people’s troubles are their own. We have no reason to get involved.” Her words resonated deeply with me. After dinner, I crouched in the yard, scratching our dog behind his ears while my parents approached hesitantly. “Leona,” my mom began, her tone cautious. “You’re different lately. What’s going on?” My dad, though silent, watched me with concern. Their worried faces made my chest tighten. I wiped at my eyes, surprised to feel the sting of tears. “Mom, Dad,” I said, my voice steady despite my emotions, “I had a dream.” I described it as a vivid nightmare, recounting every detail of my past life—the manipulation, the tragedies, and how I became a pawn in the Vaughns’ schemes. My dad’s face darkened as I spoke, his expression growing stormy with each word. When I explained how everything started with Caleb’s decision to leave and Mrs. Vaughn’s request, understanding dawned on their faces. “Sweetheart, you’ve been through so much,” my mom murmured, wrapping her arms around me protectively. Her tears wet my hair as she whispered reassurances. My dad, ever pragmatic, lit a cigarette and announced firmly, “That settles it. When we get back, we’re moving. We need to get as far away from the Vaughns as possible.” I hadn’t expected such unwavering support. Overcome with gratitude, I nodded, tears spilling freely. Hugging my mom tighter, I soaked in her warmth. We stayed at Grandma Mae’s for two blissful weeks. I got a bit of a tan from working outdoors, and when we returned, she sent us home with a carload of fresh produce. Before we moved, we spent a few more days in our old house. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, Mrs. Vaughn appeared, her tear-streaked face contorted with a mix of desperation and anger.

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Three years after breaking up with my ex-girlfriend, she dragged me to court. She wanted me to pay back everything she spent during our relationship. It wasn’t about the money—her husband was just bored and thought it’d be amusing. She knew I was in poor health. She knew I struggled with depression after losing my parents in a car accident and relied on medication to sleep. She knew I’d attempted suicide once and ended up in the hospital, even receiving a critical condition notice. And yet, she did it anyway. In court, I looked at her face—familiar yet distant. I’d known her for seven years. We dated for five. Later, she went to study in the U.S. Through the hardest times, I never thought about giving up on us. Los Angeles was so far, but I flew back and forth a dozen times. The court ruled that I had to repay $15,023. The extra $23? It came from the time I wanted to buy candied fruit on the streets of Chinatown in Los Angeles. It cost $3 per stick. I couldn’t bring myself to spend the money, but she smiled and bought it for me. Now that small, sweet gesture had turned into a blade at my throat. What she didn’t know was that the $15,000 in my bank account was everything I had—money meant for my next cancer treatment. Content

After the court ruling, I ran into Valerie Morgan in the hallway. It had been years since I’d last seen her. She’d changed so much. The struggling student I’d known, working odd jobs in a cramped apartment while trying to launch her career, was now a CEO in the renewable energy sector. She stood there in a cream sweater, her gaze cold and distant as it landed on me. Instinctively, I froze, thinking I could just avoid her and walk past. But then she spoke, her words slow and deliberate: “Do you regret it now?” I hesitated, startled. “What?” I replied. A mocking smile tugged at her lips. “Leaving me for money. You must regret it now, don’t you?” The chill of the late autumn breeze crept into my bones. I clenched my fingers against the cold but still felt its sting. After a moment, I took a deep breath and offered her a perfect, practiced smile. “Miss Morgan, the money’s been repaid, and we’re done. Saying things like that—aren’t you afraid your husband might misunderstand?” I turned my head to find Brian Chambers standing there, his face dark with anger. He quickly masked it with a smile, smoothing over the last traces of venom. Brian strolled over, casually draping an arm around Valerie’s shoulders. “Babe, how should we spend that $15,000? Clothes? Shoes? Or maybe that model I had my eye on last week?” He gave me a pointed look, smirking. “Doesn’t seem like enough, though, does it? You should’ve been more generous with your ex, Valerie. That’s barely enough for a new pair of shoes.” Valerie leaned into him, laughing softly. “It’s fine, honey. Think of it as pocket money. If you need more, I’ll cover it.” Brian’s grin widened as he kissed her cheek. “Babe, you’re the best.” Then he turned back to me, all false cheer. “Ethan, I’m really sorry about this. We don’t actually need the money. Valerie and I just had a little bet, and she wanted to cheer me up, so…” He reached out, gripping my hand with a smug, almost gloating look in his eyes. “Thanks for making me so happy—and for showing me just how much my wife loves me.” My chest tightened, a dull ache spreading through me like needles under my skin. I watched them walk away, hand in hand. Valerie would never know. The money she’d used to buy Brian his new shoes was meant to save my life.

I dragged my battered body home. The tiny trailer at the edge of Rustwood, West Virginia, shook with every gust of wind, the sharp clash of metal sheets robbing me of sleep on stormy nights. Summers were worse—an oven with no air conditioning, where I’d collapsed from heatstroke more than once because I couldn’t afford the electricity bill. I never thought Valerie would find me again. But I never imagined our next meeting would be in court. I stared at the newspaper clippings on my wall, then began tearing them down one by one. Each article bore her picture: Valerie Morgan, the rising star of the renewable energy industry; Valerie Morgan, one of New York City’s Top 10 Women Entrepreneurs; Valerie Morgan, radiant at her lavish wedding to Brian Chambers. I swallowed hard, stuffing the crumpled pages into a box beneath my bed. At the bottom of the box was a photo of us—a younger, softer Valerie leaning against me, her shy, radiant smile brimming with hope. The woman in court had been a stranger. Cold. Unforgiving. She was a CEO now, a philanthropist, a beloved wife. Everything but my girlfriend. I laughed bitterly, shoving the photo into the box with the clippings. Then I picked up my phone and called the bar manager. “Put me on the night shift,” I said. At night, the bar drew wealthy women looking for entertainment. Their desires could be twisted, their wallets deep. It was degrading, but it paid well. And I needed the money. I needed to live. What I didn’t expect was to see Valerie there. She stood at the center of a crowd, the spotlight catching her elegant figure. My fingers clenched as my face burned. She saw me too. Her expression flickered—shock, disbelief—and then settled into mockery. “So, this is where you work now.” Sweat pooled in my palms, but I forced myself to stay composed. “Your drink, ma’am,” I said calmly. Her gaze was scornful, like she was watching a rat crawl out of the gutter. “Figures. Women who come here can set you up for life. Fits your style.” I took another deep breath. “Your drink, ma’am,” I repeated. She arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “How long have you been here? Don’t you know how to serve properly?” She pulled a checkbook from her purse, scribbled something, and dropped it at my feet. “Serve my friends well, and this is yours.” Pain shot through my knee as I bent down to pick it up. When I saw the amount—$15,023—my chest constricted, air squeezing from my lungs. It was the exact sum I’d paid her in court. She was using it to humiliate me. I straightened slowly, meeting her gaze. After a long silence, I spoke: “This is payment for my services, Miss Morgan. I assume… I won’t need to repay it?”

The doctor had told me I shouldn’t drink alcohol. But I had no choice—I needed the money. For years, just staying alive had cost me my dignity. I would do anything. What were a few bottles of alcohol compared to that? That night, Valerie’s friends came to the bar. Of course, they all knew our story. Three years ago, when Valerie was desperate, struggling to secure funding, on the verge of being driven to suicide by the banks, I left her. She’d searched for me like a madwoman, even getting into a car accident that landed her in the hospital. She begged me not to leave her, but I didn’t look back. These women hated me for it. They wanted to take revenge on my behalf. They didn’t hold back. I was so drunk I collapsed onto the table, nothing more than a puddle of humiliation. When I reached for another bottle, Valerie grabbed my wrist, fury etched into her features. “Will you really stoop this low for money?” I raised my head, dazed, and held out my hand like a beggar. “Valerie… the money. You said… if I drank, if I took care of your friends, you’d pay me. You said you wouldn’t take it back…” Her gaze softened for a fleeting moment, her eyes trailing to my wrist. Her fingers brushed the scars there. The reminders of my depression, the countless times I’d tried to end it all after my parents’ fatal car accident. It was Valerie who had pulled me back from the brink, holding me close, pleading: “Ethan, you still have me. Live, even if it’s just for me. Please.” Now, though, her touch withdrew like I was filth. She scoffed bitterly, her voice dripping with venom. “I did promise. But tell me—look at my friends. Have you satisfied them?” The room erupted into cruel laughter. Their eyes bore down on me as if I were a circus act, a clown there for their entertainment. I chuckled despite the stabbing pain in my stomach, forcing a smile as I said, “Then I’ll try again. I’ll keep going until you’re happy.” When I reached for the bottle again, Valerie snapped. Her foot shot out, flipping the table. The crash of shattering glass filled the room. I fell hard, shards of broken bottles slicing into my palms. Seconds later, Marcus burst into the room, rushing to my side. “Ethan! Are you okay?” he cried, pulling me into his arms. He turned on Valerie, his voice trembling with rage. “Valerie Morgan, are you even human? After everything Ethan’s done for you, you force him to drink like this?” He paused, his voice breaking. “He has stomach cancer. Do you know this could kill him?!”

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My husband had promised to visit his family first before New Year’s Eve, then return with me to Oakridge, TN, so we could spend New Year’s Eve with my family. But on December 31, he said he didn’t feel like going anymore. Frustrated, I argued with him. Suddenly, he grabbed the fireplace poker nearby, pinned me to the ground, and beat me viciously. Meanwhile, his family stood by, egging him on, even shouting that he should just kill me. The blows landed with searing pain, and though I fought back with everything I had, it was four against one. As dusk settled, they left me in the corner of the yard, bruised and battered, and went inside to enjoy their holiday dinner. When I regained consciousness, I realized something profound. Content 0 Daryl and I had fallen in love naturally. We worked for the same company but in different departments. One day, we met while collaborating on the same project. That was when Daryl fell for me, head over heels. He went out of his way to win my affection. At 28, I wasn’t getting any younger, and my parents were pressing me to settle down. They even threatened to set me up with someone if I didn’t bring home a boyfriend for the holidays. Daryl, tall and broad-shouldered with a bright, charming demeanor, had exactly the look that melted my heart. It didn’t take long for me to agree to date him. We dated for two years, meeting each other’s families during that time. Eventually, under pressure from both sides, we tied the knot. This year marked our first New Year’s as a married couple. As a daughter living away from home, I couldn’t help but yearn to spend the holidays with my parents. So I suggested to Daryl that we visit his family first, then head to my parents’ place in Oakridge on December 31. Initially, Daryl wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but my persistent coaxing won him over. To sweeten the deal, I bought him the gaming console he’d been eyeing for months but had been too frugal to buy. Once he had that console, a grin never left his face. With the plans finalized, I threw myself into getting everything ready for the trip. Finally, on December 24, we packed up the car and drove to Dry Creek, KY, where Daryl’s family lived. His parents and sisters were delighted to see us, especially since I had thoughtfully prepared expensive gifts for everyone. The first few days at their house were pleasant. Then came December 31. I didn’t want to risk getting stuck in a traffic jam, so on December 30, I loaded everything we’d need for my parents’ house into the car. That night, I encouraged Daryl to get a good night’s rest so we could hit the road early. The thought of reuniting with my family after six months filled me with so much joy that I couldn’t sleep. The alarm rang early, and I sprang out of bed. Daryl was still asleep, so I gently woke him up. “Babe, I’m going to wash up. You should get up too, freshen up, and we’ll grab a quick bite before heading out.” I was too excited to notice the odd expression flickering across his face. After washing up and getting dressed, I waited for a long while, but Daryl didn’t come out. By the time I checked the clock, it was already 9:30 a.m. Worried about holiday traffic, I went back to the bedroom to wake him. When I opened the door, I found Daryl burrowed under the covers, snoring so loudly it could shake the walls. Peeling back the blanket, I saw the dark circles under his eyes and remembered how hard he’d worked preparing for the holidays. Feeling a twinge of guilt, I decided we could leave after lunch. Quietly, I tucked him back in and left the room. In the yard, I called my parents to let them know we’d be late and went to the kitchen to prepare lunch. 0

After lunch, I began urging Daryl to start driving me back to my parents’ place. “Everything’s packed. You just need to drive,” I said, grabbing his arm and leading him toward the car. “It’s a long trip, but you can drive the first leg. When we get to a rest area, we’ll swap, and I’ll take over. That way, we won’t get too tired, and we might even make it in time for dinner!” I was so caught up in my excitement that I didn’t notice the growing irritation on Daryl’s face. As we approached the yard gate, he suddenly pulled his arm away and bellowed, “I’m not going!” The force of his words stunned me. I froze for a moment, staring at him in disbelief. “What did you say?” I stammered. His face was etched with frustration. Without sparing me a glance, he repeated, “I said, I’m not going,” and turned to walk back into the house. I hurried after him, grabbing his arm again. “Daryl Whitaker! What do you mean, you’re not going? You promised we’d spend New Year’s at my parents’ house! What’s this all about?” He yanked his arm free and snapped, “I said I’m not going because I don’t feel like it. Can’t you understand that?” He stormed off, leaving me standing there, stunned by his blunt dismissal. As I watched him walk away, realization hit me like a ton of bricks. The promise to spend New Year’s Eve with my family had been a lie. He had lured me to Dry Creek, far from my parents in Oakridge, knowing I’d be trapped. Without the car keys, and with the holiday rush making it impossible to buy a bus ticket, I had no way of leaving. It was all a calculated move to ensure that I had no choice but to stay here for New Year’s. Fury welled up inside me. I charged toward him and kicked him hard in the leg. “Daryl Whitaker! You planned this, didn’t you? You never intended to visit my parents, did you? You lied to me!” Daryl winced but quickly switched tactics, his tone softening as he tried to pacify me. “Savannah, think about it. Around here, no married woman goes back to her parents for New Year’s. It’s tradition for wives to stay with their in-laws.” I let out a bitter laugh. “That’s not how my family works! My parents, my brother, and my sister all want me to come home. Just because your family doesn’t want their daughters back doesn’t mean mine feels the same way!” Seeing that I wasn’t backing down, Daryl tried again, this time appealing to my sense of fairness. “Savannah, if you leave, what will people here think? What will they say about me? About my parents? Can’t you just give me this one year? Stay here, for my sake.” “Your sake?” I snapped, glaring at him. “Your reputation? That’s what this is about? You agreed to go, and now you’re backing out. You’re shameless!” Daryl’s expression darkened, but he admitted, “If I hadn’t agreed, you would’ve argued endlessly. So yeah, I said yes to keep you quiet.” I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Are you seriously trying to pin this on me?!” I demanded. To my shock, he nodded. “Well, yeah. Who else am I supposed to blame, Savannah?” A laugh bubbled out of me, bitter and furious. “Daryl Whitaker, you have the nerve to blame me for your lies? You’re unbelievable!” Before I could say more, a commotion drew my attention. Daryl’s parents, Marlene and Clyde, along with his sisters, Brenda and Josie, poured out of the house. Their expressions ranged from smug satisfaction to thinly veiled disdain. Clearly, they’d overheard the argument. Daryl’s ego couldn’t take the hit. His face twisted in anger, and before I could react, he slapped me across the face. The force of the blow left me reeling, tears springing to my eyes. “You’re no man!” I yelled, clutching my stinging cheek. Furious, I raised my hand to strike back, but he grabbed my wrist and twisted it sharply. Pain shot through my arm. Before I could cry out, a heavy blow landed on my head. The world spun, and my vision blurred. The fireplace poker he’d swung at me clattered to the ground as I crumpled. The moment I hit the dirt, his kicks and punches started raining down. “You don’t listen!” he shouted. “You had to keep pushing me!” “You’re desperate to go back to Oakridge? Why? Got a lover waiting for you?” “You’re nothing but trouble!” I curled into a ball, shielding my head with my hands, trying to endure the relentless assault. Amid the chaos, I heard his family’s voices, loud and gleeful. “Teach her a lesson, Daryl! Women need to know their place!” Marlene crowed. “Don’t hit her too hard, son. You don’t want her too bruised for tonight,” Clyde added, laughing cruelly. “She needs this,” Brenda chimed in. “Who does she think she is, trying to go back to her parents’ house?” “Hit her harder, Daryl!” Josie yelled. “If she’s still moving, you’re not doing it right!” Their taunts echoed around me as I lay there, battered and broken. It was in that moment I realized the full extent of the nightmare I’d walked into. This family wasn’t just cruel—they were monsters. I tried to push myself up, to fight back, but the dizziness overwhelmed me. The first blow to my head must have caused a concussion. My vision swam, and darkness crept in. As my consciousness slipped away, I heard their laughter, loud and unrelenting, as they returned to the house. I was left alone in the yard, discarded like trash. 0

The winter wind bit into my skin like icy needles, making every part of me ache. The cold night air howled through the yard as I slowly opened my eyes. It was a moonless, star-filled night. I was still lying in the corner of the Whitakers’ yard, abandoned and forgotten. Inside the house, Daryl’s family was gathered, enjoying their New Year’s Eve dinner and watching the ball drop on TV. The pain radiating from my body brought me fully back to my senses. I tried to move, wincing as I propped myself up against the corner of the wall. The sting in my head and the bruises on my body were made worse by the bitter wind cutting through my clothes. I was cold to my core—inside and out. That’s when everything became clear. The Whitakers weren’t just cruel. They were monsters. They had stood by as Daryl beat me, egging him on, as if my suffering were a spectator sport. This was their way of showing me my place. In their eyes, now that I was married to Daryl, I belonged to him—and by extension, to them. If I dared to resist their rules, they’d punish me however they wanted. I wasn’t a wife to them. I was their servant, their obedient daughter-in-law, their personal ATM. I looked through the window at their cheerful gathering. Holding onto the wall for support, I moved as silently as possible. Fortunately, Daryl’s bedroom was far enough from the dining room that they couldn’t hear me. I crept into his room, my fingers trembling as I rummaged through his clothes. Finally, I felt the cold metal of the car keys in his pocket. With the keys secured, I grabbed my phone and purse. In the dark, I slipped back out of the bedroom and toward the main gate. Luckily, the gate wasn’t fully shut, just left slightly ajar. I nudged it open just enough to squeeze through, keeping as quiet as possible.

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The Southern-Style BBQ deli downstairs from my apartment, Maynard’s Deli, had a reputation for being pricey but delicious. I was practically there every day. At first, I’d pay for whatever amount they weighed out. But gradually, when I asked for $30 worth, they’d weigh out $50. Ask for $50? They’d scale it up to $100. I figured they were just trying to make ends meet, so I never made a fuss—always paid, no questions asked. One morning, I was in a rush to get to work, with my Uber driver honking outside. After grabbing my bagged order, I realized the plastic bag was torn, and broth was leaking out. Not wanting to trouble the busy shop, I grabbed two extra plastic bags and bolted for the car. Later that day, Russell Maynard’s mother, Martha, stormed into my office building and demanded I pay for those two bags. In front of all my coworkers, she accused me of being cheap and shameless. It hit me then—some people just aren’t worth your sympathy. Content 0 I’d stayed up too late the night before and overslept. I scrambled to get ready for work, throwing on whatever I could grab, and ran out the door. The Uber driver was already waiting, but my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I rushed into Maynard’s Deli and told Russell to pack me $30 worth of BBQ for the road. I was running late and couldn’t waste time. When he weighed it, the total came to $56.90. Fine. I didn’t argue. I paid, grabbed the bag, and was about to leave when I noticed the torn bag leaking sauce onto my hand. Russell was busy, so I didn’t want to bother him. I grabbed two extra bags and left. Twenty minutes after getting to the office, I hadn’t even had time to eat before Mia Carter, my coworker, told me someone was there to see me. I thought maybe a client had arrived early. Adjusting my blazer, I stepped outside—and was face-to-face with none other than Martha Maynard. “You ran off without paying!” she barked, her voice dripping with venom. “How can someone who works at such a big company be so shameless?” My mind raced. Did my payment not go through? I quickly pulled up my payment history on Venmo—everything looked fine. “Mrs. Maynard,” I said, keeping my tone polite, “I just checked, and I definitely paid. Maybe there was a delay on your end?” I showed her the transaction receipt on my phone. “See? I paid. This must be a misunderstanding.” “You paid for the chicken wings,” she sneered. “But don’t forget about the extra plastic bags you took! Five cents each, and you just walked off with them like I owe you something!” The misunderstanding wasn’t cleared up; if anything, she doubled down. “Walking around all polished and proper, working at a big company, but you still can’t resist taking advantage of us small folk.” “Doesn’t your company care about hiring people with integrity? Call your boss out here and let him see your true colors.” “You think because I’m an old lady, you can bully me? Taking things without paying just because I’m too polite to stop you? You’re disgusting!” By now, her shouting had drawn the attention of my entire office. 0

Martha’s voice echoed across the office, loud enough for the whole floor to hear. People started gathering, curious about the commotion. Even Greg Mitchell, my team leader, rushed over. Seeing her rage, he tried to calm her down before even asking me for the full story. “Jules,” Greg said, turning to me, “just give her the money, and let’s move on. She’s an elderly lady—it’s not easy for her to come all the way here. Let’s not cause a scene or hurt the company’s image.” I bit back my anger, knowing he had a point. This was about a dollar. Not worth escalating. Besides, I had a major client meeting in thirty minutes and couldn’t waste energy arguing with her. “Fine,” I said coldly. Turning to Martha, I spoke deliberately. “Mrs. Maynard, I was in a hurry this morning, and I didn’t realize you’d weighed out $56.90 instead of $30. That was already more than I asked for. And I didn’t know the extra bags cost money. That’s on me. My apologies. Give me your payment code, and I’ll pay you right now.” The murmurs around the office showed my colleagues understood the situation now. Many of them shot me sympathetic glances. Martha, however, glared at me like I was the devil incarnate. “Well, at least you’ve got some decency,” she spat. “But next time, if you don’t pay for the bags, don’t bother coming to Maynard’s. We don’t serve people with no class.” I nearly exploded but forced myself to hold back. I opened Venmo, sent her $1, and stepped back. The app chimed, “Payment received: $1.” I thought that would end things, but Martha wasn’t done. She pointed a finger at me, her nose in the air. “One dollar? That’s it? Who knows how many bags you’ve swiped before today? I’m asking for $50, at least. You’re rich, right? Don’t act like you can’t afford it.” Seething, I asked through gritted teeth, “How much do you want?” “$50,” she snapped, her tone dripping with entitlement. Knowing I couldn’t waste more time, I transferred the $50 to make her leave. She smirked as the transaction went through. “You’ve got the money, so why not give it to me? Better me than someone else, right?” With that, she left, grinning ear to ear. As I watched her walk away, I clenched my fists. Fifty dollars for two plastic bags? Seriously? I’d let this slide for months—letting her overcharge me, thinking it was charity. Dad even wanted to raise their rent, but I told him to hold off. “They’re struggling,” I’d said. “The BBQ’s good. Don’t push them too hard.” And this is how they repay me? Sometimes, being nice just makes you a target. ome people think kindness is weakness. Some horses, when gentle, are ridden rough. Watching Martha Maynard’s retreating back, I raised an eyebrow. She had no idea who she’d just picked a fight with. 0

As soon as Martha left, the tension in the office evaporated. My coworkers gathered around to console me. “Jules,” Mia Carter said, “with people like her, you just have to swallow your pride. If you don’t pay, they’ll never stop causing trouble. Don’t let it get to you.” “Seriously,” another coworker said indignantly. “What a vulture. I can’t believe people like her exist.” “Right? That Maynard’s Deli? I used to love their BBQ. Never going back again!” Then, Colin Spencer, who always seemed to delight in needling me, chimed in with his usual smug tone. “Well, Jules, technically you didn’t pay for the bags at first. She’s got a point, doesn’t she? Is it really okay to badmouth an elderly woman like this?” “Why don’t you say it to her face if you’re so righteous?” he added with a challenge in his voice. I turned to him, my gaze sharp as a blade. “Colin, did you come straight out of a cave or something?” “What? No, why would you—” “Because you sure act like you’re covered in ancient murals. You’ve got so many cracks, you’re practically falling apart.” His face turned green, then white, then red, but he didn’t have a comeback. He just shut his mouth and sulked. People like him? You have to shut them down without mercy. That night, I told my dad about what had happened. He didn’t play the “I told you so” card. Instead, his voice was full of warmth and fury on my behalf. “Jules, don’t worry about it. We’ll stop buying from them. People like that? They’re destined to fail.” “And the storefront?” I asked, already knowing the answer. “Oh, I’ll let it sit empty before I rent it to them again. No one gets to mess with my little girl.” “When’s the lease up?” “About a month.” “Then don’t give them a heads-up. Just kick them out when the time comes,” I said, my tone icy. “Consider it done,” Dad said firmly. Dad wasn’t around much, always busy with work, and Mom, a college professor, spent most of her time on campus. It was just me at home, so their support, even from a distance, meant the world. But truth be told, I wasn’t losing sleep over this. A dog bite doesn’t become your fault just because it hurt. After work, I stopped by the bakery and bought a selection of fancy pastries. On a whim, I also picked up a large box of freshly cut durian—an indulgence I’d been craving. The Maynard family had three kids. Their eldest daughter was off at college, the middle child, Lily, was 13 and in middle school, and the youngest, Noah, was still in elementary. As I walked past Maynard’s Deli, Lily and Noah came bounding over, their faces lighting up at the sight of my bags. Lily trailed behind me like a shadow, her eyes practically glued to the box. “Miss Jules, what did you buy? It looks so yummy!” I saw right through her act. “Just some cake and durian,” I said bluntly. “Why? Got something to say? If not, I’m heading home.” The word “durian” made Noah’s eyes sparkle with excitement. Without hesitation, he reached for my bag. “Miss Jules, how did you know I wanted durian today? Open it up and let me have some!” I lifted the bag out of his reach, my expression unamused. “If you want it so bad, go buy it yourself. Don’t have money? Ask your dad.” Noah scrunched up his face, clearly displeased. “My dad doesn’t have your kind of money. He’d never buy us something so expensive.” Lily quickly chimed in, “Yeah, yeah! If it weren’t for you, we’d never get to taste anything nice like that!” How had I missed it before? These two were just as shameless as their grandmother. A house full of the same brand of entitlement. Out of pity, I used to share with them every time they played the sweet sibling act, calling me “Miss Jules” like I was their favorite neighbor. But today? Not a chance. 0

When I didn’t hand over the goods right away, Noah tried to grab my sleeve. “Give it to me now! I’m telling you to!” “Back off,” I snapped, shaking him off. “I’m not your mom. Why should I give you anything?” Noah’s face darkened. “I know you love the BBQ from our shop. Keep this up, and I’ll make sure Dad stops selling to you!” Lily dropped her sweet-girl act and planted her hands on her hips. “You always shared with us before. Why not today?” Excuse me? Somehow, they’d managed to take shamelessness to a whole new level. Before I could respond, Martha waddled over, looking every bit as bold as when she stormed into my office. There wasn’t a hint of shame on her face—just the smug air of someone who thought they had the upper hand. “Let’s just put the plastic bag thing behind us, shall we? I won’t hold it against you. No need to sour things between us.” Her tone shifted to one of mock generosity, but it was dripping with condescension. “Kids will be kids. Just let them have a little taste. You’re doing well for yourself, so what’s the harm?” “And you know,” she added, her voice laced with fake sweetness, “my grandson only asks because he likes you. Don’t let him down.” Her audacity nearly made me laugh. I stared her down, my voice ice-cold. “What do you want? A verbal slap? Fine, I’ll deliver.” “Lack of education can be fixed. Bad looks? There’s always surgery. But a rotten heart? That’s incurable. You extorted $50 from me for a plastic bag and have the gall to stand here pretending to play nice? Do you even realize how much face you’re losing?”

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On the day we gave birth, my best friend came to my bedside right after her C-section and swapped away my son. Twenty years later, my best friend’s spoiled son caused big trouble. In front of everyone, she pointed at my academically excellent daughter and proudly said: “Actually, this is my biological child!” I smiled: “They say nephews resemble their uncles. If your son shaved his head, he’d look exactly like your brother!” “This is indeed your biological son…” I saw a woman in a hospital gown at the door of the ward, hunched over and carrying a thick bundle. I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. She came in, as expected. Even while enduring the pain of a C-section, she still came to swap my child for a million dollars. After she left, I looked at my fair and chubby daughter lying beside me, my face full of love. Stroking my daughter’s face, I whispered, “That skinny, premature son – whoever wants him can have him.” Two hours later, my husband and in-laws arrived. My room was quiet, with only me, my husband, and the nurse. Olivia’s room was bustling with activity, surrounded by my in-laws, sister-in-law, and a group of relatives. My husband looked a bit embarrassed and comforted me, “It’s okay, Rachel. Our little princess has us, and that’s enough.” I patted his hand, “I just had surgery and I’m feeling weak. Since Olivia has the energy, let her entertain the guests.” She not only swapped babies but also greeted guests. That night, she suffered a severe hemorrhage and was rushed back to the operating room. After being discharged, we both moved into the family mansion to prepare for the babies’ one-month celebration. My in-laws gave Olivia the largest room with the best lighting. She insisted on giving it to me: “Chloe has more severe jaundice, so you should take this room, Rachel.” Looking at the skinny, yellow boy in her arms, and my daughter in mine, who only had a bit of yellow on her hands, I reluctantly accepted. “Thank you, Olivia. You’re such a good friend, forever.”

A year ago, shortly after I married into the wealthy family, my best friend Olivia would cry in front of me every day. She said I had forgotten our promise to “never forget each other if we became rich.” Looking at her strange heavy makeup and the exaggerated expressions on her face, I remembered how five or six years ago, after she hooked up with a rich guy, she cut off contact with all our old classmates. I could only laugh it off and repeatedly deny her accusations. Unexpectedly, half a month later, I saw her getting together with my gambling-addicted brother-in-law. My in-laws didn’t approve, but she got pregnant first and forced a marriage. Her baby was only a month behind mine. Seeing both daughters-in-law pregnant, my in-laws were overjoyed. They declared that whoever gave birth to a son would be rewarded with a million dollars. I didn’t care much, as I hadn’t married my husband for his family’s wealth. Besides, whether it was a son or daughter, both were blessings, and I would love either. Olivia didn’t see it that way. She went everywhere to get her fortune told. She consulted several masters, and they all said she was carrying a girl. She even spent a lot of money trying to change her luck, but to no avail. After all this trouble, she ended up in the hospital for a month to protect the pregnancy. When I was close to my due date, she kept staring at my belly. A mother’s instincts are unusually sharp, so I became wary. Sure enough, on the day my water broke, she arrived at the hospital right after me. She insisted that the doctors perform a C-section on her, saying she had consulted fortune tellers and today was an auspicious day. After my daughter was born, while everyone was distracted, I switched her son with mine in advance. So, the baby Olivia took away was actually her own son.

On the day of the babies’ one-month celebration, the entire mansion was decorated festively, with countless luxury cars gathering and guests filling the halls. The “crown prince” in Olivia’s arms wore a bright yellow outfit, making his little face look even darker. My daughter wore only a pink dress, prioritizing comfort. My in-laws displayed a million dollars in cash on a long table. Olivia’s family members guarded the table, afraid someone might steal a stack. I rolled my eyes. How petty, I thought. Everyone here today is from wealthy families; who would care about your small change? When my mother-in-law put a palm-sized solid gold longevity lock around Olivia’s son’s neck, she immediately took it off and insisted on putting it on my daughter. “Boys are tough; this longevity lock is better for Chloe to wear.” She then took the hollow longevity lock from my daughter’s neck. Everyone praised her for being virtuous, and I chimed in: “You’re so good to Chloe, sister-in-law. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was your own daughter.” She froze for a moment, then looked at my daughter in my arms with a loving expression. “Of course, of course. We’ve always been best friends, and now we’re sisters-in-law. I just adore Chloe.” I blocked her hand as she tried to reach for my daughter. “Sister-in-law, your son is crying. You’d better go check on him.”

When the children were two years old, they were playing together in the courtyard. Hearing a commotion, Olivia and I came downstairs one after another. Seeing several long, bloody scratches on my daughter’s face, I held her without a word, my face ashen. Olivia went berserk first, slapping her son’s face hard several times in succession. The child’s face immediately swelled up, and he cried breathlessly. After being hit, he still reached out to Olivia, “Mommy, hug.” Olivia kicked him away, “You worthless thing, how dare you bully Chloe? I’ll chop off your hands.” Hearing this, my daughter started crying in fear. Olivia glanced at her and became even angrier. She pressed her son’s head into the swimming pool. “You little bastard, you deserve a beating. Who do you think you are? If your sister’s face scars, I’ll kill you.” She only let go when the child’s little hands stopped struggling. Seeing the child about to sink to the bottom of the pool, I quickly pulled him out. After being rescued, the child kept coughing and spitting water. Olivia held my daughter, comforting her softly. I snorted coldly. A two-year-old child makes a mistake, and she wants to take his life? She thinks this is my son, so she treats him this way. If my daughter were in her hands, she might be even worse off. “Sister-in-law, no matter how wrong Ryan did, he’s still your own son. You almost killed him.” She didn’t even look up: “If he dies, it’s his bad luck. We can always have another one.”

Those words weren’t wrong. She got pregnant again, and this time it was confirmed to be a boy. My in-laws were so happy they couldn’t close their mouths, saying she should go ahead and give birth, and they would give her a million dollars for every boy, no less. Many children bring much happiness, they said. Even ten would be fine. It was because of this that she treated Ryan worse and worse. After all, that million dollars had already been spent. Her brother’s gambling debts, which were paid off with the million dollars at the time, had accumulated again over these two years. Her mother repeatedly came to ask for money, telling her that her own brother was even dearer than her son. From the time she wanted to hook up with a rich guy to buy her brother a phone and computer, I had warned her. Being an overbearing sister wasn’t a good idea; in the end, she would lose everything. She thought I was trying to drive a wedge between her and her brother and cut off contact with me. Now, she came crying to me about how her family was sucking her dry to support her brother. I advised her, “That’s your own brother. If you don’t take care of him, who will? I’ve heard that debt collectors have many tactics these days. If they come to your in-laws, they’ll definitely be unhappy.” Olivia only got a few tens of thousands in living expenses each month, which couldn’t keep up with her brother’s spending. She could only set her sights on having children.

When my daughter was eight years old and just started elementary school, she suddenly went to the hospital. The doctor said it was an allergy, and the symptoms were severe. Olivia arrived at the hospital before me. When I got there, she was arguing with the doctor: “She’s allergic to mangoes, how can it be this severe! You incompetent doctors, give me the most expensive medicine!” “If she gets any worse, I’ll shut down your entire hospital!” A nurse was quietly trying to comfort her, “Ma’am, please don’t worry. We’ve already treated her, and she’ll be fine in a while.” She shouted, “Easy for you to say when you’re not affected! How would you feel if it was your daughter lying there?” The doctors and nurses fell silent, not wanting to argue with her. I ran over, caught my breath, and patted the nurse’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m the child’s mother. Thank you all, please go ahead with your work.” The doctor who had been scolded looked bewildered, “Then who is this?” I forced a smile, “This is the child’s aunt.” The doctors and nurses all looked over. As they left, they gave Olivia a look as if she were crazy. Before leaving, the doctor said, “Ma’am, our hospital’s psychiatric department is quite good. If you often feel overly anxious and stressed, you might want to go check it out.”

After Chloe was discharged, she rested at home for a few days without going to school. During these days, Olivia nearly turned the school upside down. First the principal, then the teachers, were all reported to higher authorities. She accused them of allowing students to poison others at school. She even bought off some tabloid reporters to interview at the school. Banners were hung all over the school. “Unscrupulous school endangers my daughter’s life.” “Corrupt principal allows poisoning and protects the perpetrator.” “Immoral teachers abuse students.” To substantiate the teachers’ crimes, she even beat Ryan, who was in the same class as Chloe, until his face was black and blue. She made Ryan tell the reporters’ cameras that it was the teacher who beat him. The incident involved school food safety and caused a huge stir. Ryan’s body was covered in new bruises mixed with old ones. Every day, Olivia dragged him out to kneel at the school gate, and he looked very weak. Onlookers began to speak up, “The child looks like this, why not take him to the hospital?” “These injuries are clearly new. Could the teacher still go to their home to continue beating?” “What a mess in your circle. Rich people don’t go to the police when something happens, just put on heavy makeup and sit in luxury cars blocking the school gate every day.” More and more onlookers were saying Olivia was putting on an act. It wasn’t until I brought Chloe to the school gate that this farce was stopped. I also called reporters and clearly explained the whole story. The child was allergic to mangoes, and her classmate didn’t know and shared some mango candy with her. It was our fault as parents for not doing enough. I hope everyone will stop discussing this matter. As for my sister-in-law’s disturbance to the school, I sincerely apologize. And the lawsuit against that classmate and their parents, we will withdraw it immediately. I hope everyone will let the children study in peace.

My in-laws care most about their reputation. After my husband told them about this incident, They were unforgiving towards Olivia, who had given birth to four grandsons. At a family gathering, they made her kneel down in front of everyone and reflect on her behavior. Olivia lost a lot of face, and my husband was very worried. “Will Olivia take it out on Chloe? After all, she did all this for our daughter.” I assured him, “She won’t. Olivia loves Chloe so much, how could she blame her?” She couldn’t wait to dote on Chloe; if she were to take out her anger on anyone, it would only be on her own son. That night, we heard ghostly wails and screams of a child being disciplined. Ryan cried the loudest, “Mom, I’m your son. Why do you always hit me because of my sister? I feel pain too.” “Shut up, or I’ll sew your mouth shut! How dare you mention Chloe’s name!” In the end, it was my in-laws who couldn’t bear it anymore and took Ryan away. They also stopped Olivia’s credit cards and forbade my brother-in-law from giving her money. Olivia indeed went through a year or two of poverty. She held onto her resentment, pestering my brother-in-law every day. Until she gave birth to her fifth son, she was overjoyed, thinking she would get another million dollars. My in-laws only tossed her twenty thousand dollars. “Having a child, twenty thousand is more than enough. From now on, you’ll have to pay for your own baby formula.”

With less money, she could only rely on quantity. In the following years, Olivia gave birth to three more children in succession. The damage from giving birth to so many children, plus managing eight children over these years, Left her face full of wrinkles, looking nearly ten years older than me. The little money she got was all given to her family. My brother-in-law kept a twenty-something-year-old mistress outside and rarely came home. Even if she wanted to have more children, she couldn’t find anyone. Everyone thought she would be discouraged, sighing like a bitter woman. But she remained energetic every day, even though her sons were all spoiled rotten. Uneducated and incompetent, they relied on the living expenses given by their grandparents, either staying at home playing video games or going out causing trouble every day. Some even dropped out of school, and Olivia indulged them. People were puzzled, but only I understood clearly in my heart. Now that Chloe is twenty years old, she’s already pursuing a master’s degree at a top university. Whether the family inheritance goes to the grandsons or the outstanding granddaughter, She would be the winner either way.

During the New Year’s Eve family gathering, Ryan fled home in a panic. He had taken a drunk girl to a hotel after drinking at a bar. Now she had reported it to the police, and he quickly ran back home. Kneeling in front of his grandfather, he begged him to save his eldest grandson. “Grandpa, please save your eldest grandson. When I helped that girl out of the bar, she clearly didn’t resist.” “Grandpa, don’t you have friends at the police station? This girl is falsely accusing me, you should have her arrested.” Seeing his grandfather’s face turning purple with anger, his father smashed the wine glass in his hand onto Ryan’s head. Blood flowed down his forehead, and Ryan crawled towards his mother, dragging his 300-pound body. “Mom, save me. I’m your own son.” His brothers standing nearby all folded their arms, watching with detached interest. It seemed as if the one kneeling on the ground begging for help wasn’t their brother, but an enemy. Olivia crouched down to wipe the blood from his face, “Ryan, you’ve caused such big trouble, even I can’t help you.” Grandfather exploded in anger, “Enough! Olivia, look at the good son you’ve raised. You take him to turn himself in right now. We didn’t see him today!” “And you, we can’t afford a daughter-in-law like you in our family. When you come back, divorce Tyler and leave with nothing!” Olivia panicked instantly. She grabbed Chloe, who was sitting next to her grandparents, and before anyone could react, she blurted out: “Dad, it’s not me who should leave. Ryan is Tyler and Rachel’s son, and Chloe is my real daughter!”

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The night my parents were kidnapped, my police officer brother wanted to accompany his fake sister bungee jumping. I didn’t stop him and decisively called the police to prepare the ransom. In my previous life, my brother didn’t go with the fake sister to save our parents. As a result, when she went bungee jumping, the rope broke, and she fell into the cliff. Her body was never found. My brother didn’t say a word afterwards. On my birthday, he drugged me and took me to that cliff. “You planned the kidnapping. You’ve gone too far in your pursuit of attention. You’re a demon!” “Olivia died, so you shouldn’t live either!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my parents were kidnapped. This time, my brother didn’t launch a rescue mission but rushed to his fake sister instead. Later, however, he regretted it to the point of almost going insane. I suddenly opened my eyes, my forehead covered in sweat. My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, as if it was about to burst out. The feeling of weightlessness hadn’t dissipated yet, and the familiar room layout came into view. I checked the time. I had been reborn, reborn on the day my parents were kidnapped. In five minutes, the kidnappers would call, demanding that we prepare the ransom within an hour, or they would kill my parents. I was the Bailey family’s daughter who had been lost for eighteen years. It hadn’t even been a year since I returned to my parents’ embrace, and they were already my everything. No matter what, I couldn’t let the tragedy of my previous life happen again. I quickly went downstairs to wait by the phone, with my police officer brother Lucas, dressed in a tactical outfit and casual pants, following closely behind. “Mia, why are you so nervous? Who are you acting for? Mom and Dad aren’t even here.” “Aren’t they ‘kidnapped’ by you?” I retorted. Lucas revealed a mocking smile. At that moment, I was certain he had also been reborn. His current expression seemed to be telling me, don’t struggle, it’s useless. Without his parents to play along with me, this show would end even sooner. In my previous life, Lucas believed that I had meticulously planned the kidnapping, aiming to gain attention and make our parents care about me more. I didn’t know where he got such an absurd conclusion from. In this new life, Lucas decided to directly ignore my “trap.” “Mia, don’t blame me for not warning you, instigating a crime is also a crime.” “Don’t cry and beg me to bail you out when you end up in jail.” I wanted to say something more, but as soon as I opened my mouth, the urgent ringing of the phone interrupted me. Each ring felt like a needle piercing my heart. Lucas, however, acted as if he couldn’t hear it. Before leaving, a hint of disdain flashed across his brow. “Do whatever you want. I’m going to accompany Olivia bungee jumping.” “Anyway, nothing will really happen to them. Don’t bother me unless it’s necessary.” That’s not what he said in my previous life. Using his years of accumulated criminal investigation skills, Lucas quickly located the kidnappers’ hideout. In just one hour, he brought our parents back unharmed. That day, I was so focused on my traumatized parents that I completely missed the suspicion and anger hidden in Lucas’s eyes. It wasn’t until later when he tied me up at the cliff’s edge that I realized. During the rescue, Olivia Chen had called Lucas countless times. Because Lucas didn’t answer her calls, she went bungee jumping alone and had an accident. Now, the phone’s ringing sounded like a death knell, making me feel anxious all over. I picked up, and the kidnapper’s voice came through clearly. “Two million dollars, prepare it within two hours, or your parents won’t make it.” I stared in horror, my eyes wide. What? Wasn’t it only one million dollars in my previous life?!

I gripped the receiver tightly, cold sweat dripping down my face. It seemed that the realities of the two lives were slightly different, so the kidnappers’ location might have changed as well. I, who had been confident just moments ago, suddenly began to panic. I begged with a sob in my voice. “Can you give me a little more time? I…” The other end hung up immediately. I quickly composed myself, knowing that showing weakness to these desperados was useless. The urgent matter at hand was to prepare the ransom and confirm the location. My hand quickly wrote down the information I knew from my previous life on a piece of paper. There were two kidnappers, both young men, and the kidnapping location was at one of their homes. The ransom was one million dollars, to be deposited in the third trash can at the south entrance of the train station. The kidnappers hadn’t even had time to collect the money before my brother raided their hideout, saving both the money and our parents. Thinking of this, I immediately picked up my phone to call the police and contacted Uncle Quinn, my dad’s good friend and a shareholder in the company, asking the finance department to prepare cash directly. Uncle Quinn sounded just as panicked as I was on the phone. “Call the police, Mia. I’ll take care of the money.” My heart finally settled a bit. Two minutes later, the police arrived. James Xu, my brother’s colleague and good friend, entered with a sour expression. “Mia, your brother just called me. Luckily, I was nearby…” “Filing a false police report is against the law!” All my courage and hope crumbled at that moment. Lucas was convinced that I was the mastermind behind the kidnapping, so he specifically sent his good friend to respond to the call. His goal was to stop my “unreasonable behavior.” Without police force and a criminal investigation expert to crack the location, how could I solve this? Unable to control my emotions, I crumpled the clues in my hand into a ball. Just thinking about my parents being tortured by the kidnappers, I broke down and cried out loud. “Officer James, I’m not lying. I’m an adult, I’ll take responsibility for my actions.” “Please, I need the police’s help. I need you to help me save my parents!” I cried uncontrollably, constantly checking the clock. Almost ten minutes had passed already, and I didn’t have much time left. James leaned back on the sofa, casually scrolling through his phone. Seeing me cry didn’t evoke even a hint of sympathy from him. “They say kids raised in orphanages are cunning. You think crying can emotionally blackmail people?” “Your brother was right, those who weren’t raised from childhood just don’t get it. Your hearts aren’t in the same place.” “Olivia is much more sensible than you…” Olivia and I had different fates. She was adopted by my parents at eight years old and raised like a precious pearl. Especially my brother, whose protection of her bordered on pathological thoroughness. Even after they both became adults, they often slept together, hugging each other. The ticking of the clock brought me back to reality. I forced myself to calm down, suppressing the tumultuous emotions inside. “James.” I called his name solemnly. “Since you’ve responded to the call, you have an obligation to address my report…” Before I could finish, James interrupted me with a merciless laugh. “You little girl, trying to act all noble here.” “You think you can control everything just because you’re back in the Bailey family? You’re like an outsider in this house.” His words made me feel like I’d fallen into an icy pit. “Your brother told me everything. Your parents don’t really love you that much, they often mix up your name with Olivia’s.” “You’ve been playing mind games at home to get attention, making Olivia move out.” James was eating from a fruit platter without a care in the world while belittling me. I knew these words weren’t baseless; they were accumulated impressions my own brother had passed on to him over time. In their eyes, I was just a scheming girl who only cared about getting attention. I stood in front of him again. How he saw me didn’t matter at all. “What will it take for you to believe me? My parents are in real danger right now.” “If we miss the golden rescue window, can you bear that responsibility?” James paused his actions and stood up from the sofa. “Then go ahead and report me. Little girls like you just need to be taught a lesson…” Before he could finish, two uniformed police officers appeared at the door. “Is Mia here? We received a report and are here to handle the case.” My legs nearly gave out, and I almost fell to the ground. Finally, there was hope for my parents!

Seeing the newcomers, James immediately went over to shake hands. “We’re all colleagues. I’m here to check on Lucas’s sister.” Only then did I notice that James was in plain clothes. Next, as he walked towards the door, intending to slip away, he was stopped by the two police officers. I stepped forward to report the current situation. “Officers! My parents have really been kidnapped. I have a recording!” The phone call I had specifically recorded finally came in handy. When the kidnapper’s voice played, James’s face turned pale. “But Lucas said it was just actors…” “He said this was all your own production.” I snorted coldly, not bothering to waste words on him. I slowly unfolded the crumpled paper in my hand. Relying on the somewhat blurred memory fragments from my previous life, I carefully recalled those details. Quickly organizing and piecing together the information in my mind, I finally thought of a good explanation that could directly provide clues from my previous life. “Officers! I can provide information about the suspects. They’ve appeared near my house before.” “The voice sounds very similar… They asked me for directions at the time. I can’t be entirely sure.” Soon, a sketch artist and listening equipment were in place. I concentrated on describing the appearance of the two kidnappers. After comparing with known criminals, results came quickly. They were two young men who had been imprisoned for robbery before. One of them had rented a house using his real name, and the police immediately arranged a rescue operation. I sat on the sofa, but I felt like I had just been pulled out of a pool. Cold sweat had soaked through my clothes. 20 minutes later, the police officer accompanying me received a report. “I’m sorry, Mia, we didn’t find your parents at the scene.” “But we did find this.” There were many secretly taken photos in the kidnappers’ house, not only of my parents but also of me. “They’ve been scoping out the place for a long time. Don’t worry, these two won’t get away.” My brain was about to explode. The thing I feared most had ultimately happened. The kidnappers had changed the location where they were holding the hostages. That meant all these clues I had were useless. James was calling my brother in a corner. Even though he tried to keep his voice down, I could hear him clearly. “It’s a real kidnapping. We already have suspects. You should come back quickly…” Lucas actually laughed out loud on the other end. The words he said seemed intentionally loud enough for me to hear. “Give it up. The bigger you play, the harder you’ll fall…” “When Mom and Dad lose face and disown you, don’t cry…” The fear and hatred from my previous life surged up instantly. Even if he disliked me, his sister who had only recently been found, he shouldn’t disbelieve others’ words at a time like this. I wasn’t wrong, and our parents were even less so. The son they had lovingly raised for over twenty years was now ignoring their safety to accompany a fake sister. If our parents knew, I wonder how heartbroken they would be. I felt it wasn’t worth it for them. As I wiped away the tears from the corner of my eye, the landline in the house suddenly rang loudly. The officer in charge of monitoring gave me a look. My heart suddenly accelerated. The kidnappers were calling again! The officer in charge of monitoring gave me an OK sign. My whole body was shaking as I picked up the receiver. A nearby officer used a card to remind me.

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When I returned to school after participating in an art competition in New York, everyone told me Orion Gray and Violet Ross were together. Who is Orion Gray, you ask? He’s my current boyfriend who chased after me for three whole years in high school. You’ve got to be kidding me. When I stormed into Orion’s classroom angrily, I didn’t see him, but instead found his group of roommates. These three roommates of his each had their own distinct personalities – the oldest was quiet and reserved, the second was always joking around without a serious bone in his body, and the third had always shown hostility towards me. Orion was the youngest, the baby of their dorm. Perhaps due to his youthful appearance and gentle nature, he had always been the one they looked after the most. “Well, if it isn’t the beautiful Zoe back from her trip,” the second oldest greeted me with a teasing smile. “Where’s Orion?” I wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. “Oh, he might be in the cafeteria, or maybe on the sports field. Who knows, he could even be in the little forest!” He laughed after saying this, which only irritated me more. “Forget it, I’ll find him myself.” Knowing I wouldn’t get any useful information from them, I tried calling Orion again, but still no answer. “Don’t listen to him. Orion is in the study room,” the usually silent oldest one suddenly spoke up. I glanced at him, muttered a thanks, and turned to leave. Since I got back, not only did he not come to pick me up, but he didn’t even send a single message to check on me. Instead, he gave me this huge surprise. Orion Gray, you’ve really done it this time! There weren’t many people in the study room. At a glance, I spotted Orion sitting near the window. The girl next to him must be Violet Ross that everyone was talking about. I knew of Violet Ross, but wasn’t very familiar with her. If she hadn’t gotten involved with Orion, I probably wouldn’t have even known we were at the same university until graduation. I gently tapped on the desk next to Orion. He looked up at me, not seeming particularly surprised. Looks like he knew I was back. “Come out for a minute, I need to talk to you,” I said quietly. Orion closed his book and got up to follow me out. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?” I asked. “My phone was on silent, I didn’t hear it,” he replied nonchalantly. “Did you know I was coming back today?” I asked again. “Yes,” he answered. “So?” I pressed, “You knew I was coming back today but didn’t come to pick me up, didn’t answer my calls, and instead came to study with another girl.” “Did you forget we’re still in the middle of a cold war?” I nearly choked on my own breath, momentarily at a loss for words. Orion was great in every way, except when it came to arguments and sulking. For anything he believed he wasn’t wrong about, he would never be the first to back down. So most of the time, I was the one who had to reach out first, and then the matter would be considered over. This time, I had been too busy with the competition to keep in touch, and he actually thought we were still in a cold war. I had even forgotten what this cold war was about in the first place. “Are you and Violet Ross together now?” I knew the answer was definitely no, but I still wanted to hear what Orion had to say. “No,” he replied firmly. “But that’s what everyone is saying.” “I said no, and that means no.” He was being stubborn, but I knew his personality – he always told the truth. However, not being together didn’t mean there wasn’t any ambiguity between them. “I don’t like her,” I said bluntly. “Because I’ve been spending time with her?” he asked. “Not just because of that.” The name Violet Ross reminded me of some things from the past. “I might not be able to completely distance myself from her right now,” Orion hesitated before continuing, “But I’ll keep my distance from her.” I couldn’t help but laugh, “Orion, don’t you think what you’re saying is contradictory?” Orion fell silent. “Is there something you can’t tell me?” I teased, guessing it was probably his overflowing sympathy at work again. Orion was such a kind-hearted person. “I can’t tell you right now,” Orion was still firm on this issue, but he did make his stance clear to me, “But please trust me, there really isn’t anything between us.” As far as I could tell, Orion didn’t seem to be hiding anything major. I nodded, understanding, and asked, “Is it because she has depression?” Orion looked surprised, “How did you know?” “Severe OCD plus mild depression, right?” I mused thoughtfully, “Orion, when she told you all this, did she mention that she, you, and I were all classmates in high school?” “She never said that, and I never asked,” Orion replied. Why didn’t she say anything? Was it because she was afraid of being called out if she brought up the past? Violet Ross, didn’t you do your homework before targeting Orion? “I don’t object to you having friendships with other girls, but her – she’s off limits!” I made my stance clear as well. “Okay, I understand,” Orion didn’t press further, and I didn’t say more either. If he wanted to know, I would tell him eventually. If he didn’t want to know, there was no point in telling him anyway. “Let’s go get something to eat then,” I took his arm, considering the cold war over. As for his situation with Violet Ross, I decided to wait and see. Our meal together wasn’t very pleasant. His group of roommates seemed to have some kind of radar – I had barely ordered when they showed up right on time. Well, since they’re here, might as well eat together. “Oh, looks like you two made up,” the second oldest teased when he saw us. “You have no idea how miserable our little bro has been these past few days. He couldn’t eat or sleep properly.” Orion coughed lightly and turned to look out the window. “Is that so?” I asked disinterestedly while scrolling through my phone. “He didn’t send a single message or call in all these days. I thought he had forgotten he even had a girlfriend.” “Come on, don’t be like that!” The second oldest tried to smooth things over. “You know you’re the officially recognized sister-in-law of our 305 dorm, right Leo?” He nudged the third oldest with his elbow, signaling him to say something nice, but Leo didn’t play along. “That’s just what you guys say. I never agreed to it.” “Well, looks like there’s some disagreement within your group,” I put down my phone and looked at Leo. “Seems like I’m not good enough in your eyes, huh?” Leo’s hostility towards me seemed to come out of nowhere. I had asked Orion about it before, but he said there was nothing and told me not to overthink it. But eyes don’t lie – Leo’s hostility was far too obvious.

I had mentioned this to my best friend Chloe before. With her wild imagination, she asked, “Could it be that he likes your Orion and sees you as a love rival?” I rolled my eyes at her. “You need to stop reading so much BL.” “No, seriously! Your Orion always looks so soft and gentle, and his roommates keep calling him ‘little bro’ more affectionately than we do. It’s hard for me not to think in that direction,” Chloe insisted as if it was an established fact. “Give me a break. Orion is as straight as they come,” I retorted. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have chased after me for three years in high school. “Straight guys can be turned too,” Chloe seemed to be quite knowledgeable on this topic. “He might be straight, but his roommates might not be.” “Stop right there. Even if Orion was into guys, which of his roommates looks like boyfriend material?” I countered. “You have a point there,” Chloe pondered, stroking her chin. “The oldest one might have a chance, but he looks pretty straight too. As for Leo, forget it – two bottoms won’t work out. Zoe, looks like your boyfriend is safe for now.” I dismissed Chloe’s wild theories as a joke. While Leo did show hostility towards me, he had never openly expressed it. But this time, it seemed he was making a clear statement. “It’s not that you’re not good enough. I just don’t think you and Orion are a good match,” he replied. Okay, he finally said it out loud. I’m sure they must know about the Violet Ross situation, and might even be encouraging it. After all, they’ve never really approved of me as Orion’s girlfriend. “Shouldn’t the question of whether we’re a good match be asked to Orion himself?” In other words, who are you to judge whether we’re suitable or not? “Alright, Leo, Zoe and I are doing fine. Please don’t interfere in our relationship,” Orion sighed, sounding a bit exasperated. “I just don’t understand why Violet Ross isn’t good enough for you. At least she genuinely likes you and treats you well!” Leo exclaimed. The implication being that I don’t genuinely like Orion and don’t treat him well? Interesting, very interesting. I’ve only been gone for a short while, and this Violet Ross has already infiltrated Orion’s inner circle. “My relationship with Orion is between the two of us. What does it have to do with you? If you think Violet Ross is so great, why don’t you go after her yourself? Why try to set her up with Orion? Do you think I’m just a placeholder girlfriend, or do you think I’m easy to push around?” I paused for a moment before continuing, “Have you been hiding under our bed or something? How do you know I don’t treat Orion well? Are you a mind reader or somehow connected to his thoughts? Do you know better than us whether we like each other or not?” It had been a while since I’d verbally sparred with someone. I was a bit rusty. There’s no point in being polite to someone like this. Did he really think I was a pushover? Leo was left speechless by my tirade. He put down his chopsticks and stormed off angrily. I looked at Orion innocently, “Aren’t you going to go comfort him?” Orion pushed a glass of water towards me. “You must be thirsty after talking so much. Have some water.” The second oldest across from us burst out laughing, and even the usually stoic oldest one had a hint of a smile on his face. I looked at Orion suspiciously, “He doesn’t actually like you, does he?” “What are you thinking?” Orion rapped me lightly on the head with his chopsticks, sounding annoyed. “You need to stay away from Chloe in the future.” Seeing the second oldest across from us laughing uncontrollably, I once again confirmed that Chloe’s speculation was completely baseless. I didn’t see Violet Ross again until a week later. During that week, Orion spent most of his time with me. I thought the matter had been put to rest, but I didn’t expect her to actively seek me out. It was during an elective class. I had deliberately chosen a seat at the back and pulled Orion to sit with me. As luck would have it, Violet Ross also came to this elective class. Seeing the empty seat next to Orion, she sat down beside him. “What a coincidence, Orion,” she greeted him. “Mm,” Orion responded coolly. “So you’re taking this elective too? I think Professor Brown’s lectures are really good. I come to listen to his class every week,” she continued, seemingly very interested in the course. Orion shook his head awkwardly, “I’m not.” “He’s here to keep me company while I earn credits,” I turned to look at her. Was she pretending I didn’t exist? “He’s not interested in these dry, boring courses.” “And you are?” she asked, feigning ignorance. “Zoe Quinn, Orion’s girlfriend,” I extended my hand politely. “Oh, I see,” she acted as if she had just realized. “I’m Violet Ross, Orion’s friend.” “You two must have just met recently then,” I withdrew my hand. “I’ve never heard Orion mention you before.” “Yes, we’ve only known each other for less than a month,” she always had this soft, fragile demeanor, just like in high school. “But I feel like we clicked instantly, as if we’ve been friends for a long time.” “Is that so?” This level of subtle provocation had no effect on me. “After all, we all went to the same high school, right?” “Really?” She looked both surprised and delighted, as if she genuinely didn’t know. “Yes, indeed,” I nodded, resting my chin on my hand and tilting my head to look at her. “Orion had a really good friend in high school named Jack Brown. Do you remember him?” Violet Ross’s smile became a bit stiff, and her expression started to look unnatural. “I don’t remember high school classmates very clearly.” “That’s a shame. No worries, I’ll make sure to introduce you sometime,” I responded generously. “Mm,” she answered softly, opening her book. “Class is about to start.” I turned back, the smile on my face only growing. Orion leaned in and whispered, “Who’s Jack Brown? I don’t remember having a good friend by that name.” I blinked innocently at him, “Don’t you remember? You two were really close in high school.” “Cut it out,” Orion didn’t believe me at all. “I can say with certainty that I don’t know anyone by that name. So, who exactly is Jack Brown?” Great, now he’s jealous. I quickly waved my hands, “I don’t know him well either.” “If you don’t know him well, why did you bring him up and say he was my good friend?” Orion pressed on. “Just because I don’t know him well doesn’t mean others don’t,” I glanced towards Violet Ross. “Her? Didn’t she say she doesn’t remember?” Orion still seemed doubtful. “You believed her when she said she doesn’t remember, but you doubt me when I say I’m not familiar with him. Orion Gray, who exactly is your girlfriend here?” I was getting annoyed.

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My husband and I returned to the United States to participate in groundbreaking cancer research, only to be struck down—literally—by Vanessa Sterling, a rising Hollywood star. With my legs shattered, I crawled, pleading for her to help my husband, who was rapidly losing consciousness. She responded by throwing a check at my face. “Who’s ever heard of you scientists? You’re nobodies compared to me! Here, a hundred grand—more than enough to buy your pathetic lives!” As my husband’s body grew cold, she left, hurling a bribe to keep me silent. Then, her powerful backer, Brandon Chase, threatened me, “Go ahead, call the cops. We’ll ruin you. Who do you think you are to fight a star like her?” What they didn’t know was that my husband was the lead scientist on a federally funded cancer research project—a man backed by the full force of the National Institute of Advanced Science. Content The cold check slid from his face, but Nate still clutched the hard drive containing his research—a decade’s worth of work to develop affordable cancer medication. Just an hour earlier, he’d smiled at me, his excitement lighting up the room. “Claire,” he had said, “with these results, we can give the country a drug that’s cheaper and more effective.” “I want every family to afford medicine. Every life is precious.” And now, his life was being trampled on, reduced to a bargaining chip for a starlet with too much money and too little humanity. Through my tears, I begged her, “I don’t want your money—just help me get my husband to a hospital!” “If our research gets delayed, it could cost thousands, maybe millions, of lives!” Vanessa Sterling paused mid-step, her lips curling into a mocking sneer. “Ugh, shut up. A hundred grand isn’t enough to make you stop whining? You’re both worthless, and frankly, I’m being generous!” Her cruel words stabbed at me. Nate and I had sacrificed so much, self-funding our research for the good of the people, only to be humiliated by someone who flaunted her wealth like a weapon. I pulled out my ID and threw it at her feet. “Call the National Institute of Advanced Science. They’ll confirm who we are.” “Delay this project, and those two worthless lives you mock might cost you more than you can afford to pay!” Vanessa crushed my ID under her heel with a dismissive snort. “What a waste of my time! I’m trending on Twitter and have national interviews lined up. Meanwhile, I’ve never even heard of you.” “What kind of ‘scientists’ are so unknown? Guess you’re not that important. Dead or alive, who’d even care?” She strutted off, lazily making a call, leaving me gripping my shattered phone, frantically pressing its cracked screen through tears that blurred my vision. I was at my wit’s end. I pounded my broken legs in despair, the pain unable to drown out the anguish in my chest. How could I dream of saving lives when I couldn’t even save the person I loved most? Vanessa smirked, looking down at me. “Fine, keep playing the victim. I’m not giving you more money.” “Oh, by the way,” she added, “this area has no cameras. So here’s the story: you two idiots ran into my car on your own. Say that, and we’re good.” She leaned in, a wicked grin on her face. “Take the check, and I’ll even send my assistant to drop you off at the hospital. Consider it my good deed of the day.” Vanessa wanted to rewrite the narrative. She wasn’t the one who caused this—no, she was the hero offering a lifeline. My hands trembled as I picked up the blood-stained check. Swallowing my pride, I agreed. Nate’s life was all that mattered. Seeing me capitulate, Vanessa laughed in triumph. “Ha! Pretending you’re not after money? What a joke.” I bit my lip so hard that blood dripped down my chin. Nate, coughing and wheezing, turned to me with great effort. “Claire… I have to tell you something… while I can…” He pressed the hard drive into my hands, blood trickling from his nose and mouth. “Claire, I’ve told you before. My greatest dream is to create a cure that even the poorest can afford.” “But I don’t think I can finish it…” I held him tightly, trying to warm his freezing body, my tears mingling with the blood on his face. He shook his head, determined even in his final moments. “Don’t grieve for me.” “No matter what happens, you must continue our research. This data is more important than me…” Choking on sobs, I nodded. Vanessa’s voice cut through the air like a dagger. “Enough with the drama. You’re acting like you’re curing cancer or something. I’ve got people jumping off buildings if I don’t post on Instagram!” I glared at her, my fury burning through the haze of grief. Vanessa smirked. “Oh, what? You mad? It’s just some junk science, right?” She snatched the hard drive from my hands. “Let me take a look. What’s got you so worked up?”

Vanessa Sterling tossed the hard drive lightly into the air, catching it with each throw. One slip, and it would shatter into pieces. I watched in utter panic, my chest tightening with every flip. Crawling forward on my broken legs, I begged her to return it. “That’s his legacy!” I cried. “It’s the hope for countless patients who could be saved!” Vanessa’s mocking game had gone too far. The sight of her toying with the hard drive pushed Nate over the edge. He coughed violently, blood spurting from his lips as he gasped out desperate pleas for her to stop. Then, he collapsed, unconscious. Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Geez, can’t you take a joke?” she muttered before pocketing her amusement. With a flippant wave, she climbed into her car and sped away. Her assistant eventually helped transport Nate and me to Crestwood Medical Center, where I underwent surgery. Hours later, I sat in a wheelchair outside the brightly lit ICU, staring at the closed doors of the operating room. All I could think about was the stolen research—ten years of relentless work—gone. Summoning my strength, I called the police. The Brookhaven Police Department acted swiftly, launching an investigation and quickly identifying witnesses to the hit-and-run. Vanessa was brought in for questioning. The moment we faced each other at the station, she struck me across the face without warning. “You just don’t give up, do you? Wasn’t a hundred grand enough? Now you’re back for more?” I didn’t flinch. Instead, I slammed the bloodstained check against her face. “I told you—I don’t want your money. I want you behind bars. If my husband doesn’t make it, I’ll see to it you pay with your life!” Her face twisted in fury, and she raised her hand again. But before she could land another blow, the officers stepped in to stop her. Turning on the theatrics, Vanessa threw herself into Brandon Chase’s arms, sobbing dramatically. “Mr. Chase, I’m so sorry! I was just trying to enjoy my evening with you, but this woman had to bring the police and ruin everything!” Everyone knew that stars like Vanessa didn’t rise without a powerful backer. Brandon Chase was clearly her anchor in the storm. He gave me a disinterested glance, his tone icy. “Ms. Kensington, let’s not drag this out. Name your price, and let’s put this to rest.” I chuckled bitterly through the pain of my split lip. “You think this is about money?” “My husband dedicated his life to research for this country. He’s fighting for his life, and you want to buy your way out of justice? Forget it.” Brandon’s gaze turned steely, his voice lowering in warning. “You’re playing a dangerous game. Money can buy anything.” I locked eyes with him, unwavering. “Fine. Get the most expensive lawyer you can find. I’ll see you in court.” Ignoring him, I focused on the officers bringing in the witnesses. I expected justice, but when the doors to the interrogation room opened, my blood ran cold. The witness, a young man, pointed at me and confidently declared, “It was her. I saw her throw herself in front of Vanessa’s car. She was faking it—trying to extort her!” My voice shook. “You’re lying!” It was all so clear now. Brandon Chase’s smug confidence, the bribed witness—it all clicked into place. “You sold your soul for a check,” I said, my voice trembling with rage. “How much did they pay you? Enough to silence your conscience and frame an innocent person?” The boy shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but the admiration in his eyes as he turned to Vanessa betrayed him. “Vanessa Sterling is a star,” he gushed. “She makes millions every day. She’s an icon for people like me.” Then he sneered at me. “And you? What are you, some nobody scientist? Why would I ruin my life for someone like you?” My eyes burned with unshed tears. “You’re asking who I am?” I whispered. I clenched my fists. Nate and I had spent our lives in quiet service to others, seeking no fame or fortune—only the hope of making a difference. But did that mean we deserved this? I cried out, my voice hoarse, “My husband is still fighting for his life in the ICU! We work for the National Institute of Advanced Science! Why would we throw everything away for a scheme like this?” Brandon’s condescending laugh cut through the air. “Every criminal says they’re innocent,” he said with a shrug, turning to the officers. “Officer, you have your witness. Isn’t it time to put this scam artist in her place?” He stepped forward, his face inches from mine, and smirked. “After all, we’re all equal under the law. Isn’t that right?” My resolve snapped. I slapped him hard across the face, the sound ringing through the room like a gunshot. “You’ll regret that,” he growled, raising his fist. “Stop!” The officers rushed forward, pushing us apart before he could strike. As they escorted me to another room, Brandon’s eyes followed me, dark with unspoken threats.

After yet another round of questioning, my lawyer arranged for my release. Exhausted, I returned to Crestwood Medical Center, where Nate’s condition remained critical. I slumped in my wheelchair, staring at the sterile hospital walls, my body numb with despair. Then my phone rang. Vanessa’s voice spilled out, dripping with mockery. “Claire, how’s it feel to call the cops and end up the one getting interrogated?” “You’re the criminal!” I spat back. “So what if I am?” she said, her confidence unshaken. “Brandon’s got my back. I’m a star. What are you? Nothing.” Her voice turned icy. “Brandon wanted me to tell you something: money can’t shut you up, but it can destroy you a hundred times over. Check Twitter if you don’t believe me.” Dread pooled in my stomach as I opened my phone. The top trending topic screamed at me: “Scammer Couple Tries to Con Actress Vanessa Sterling, Karma Hits Hard!” The media had already spun the story, fueled by Brandon’s money and influence. Comment after comment tore us apart. “They should’ve died in the accident. How dare they frame Vanessa?” “Calling themselves scientists? Sure, if scientists were cheap and useless. Vanessa’s worth more than their entire lives combined!” Even fake posts from supposed former classmates began to circulate. “They plagiarized their theses in college. The whole campus knew they were frauds.” Nate and I, dedicated scientists, were painted as failures and liars, while Vanessa continued to bask in the spotlight. I hung up on her taunts. It wasn’t over. I wouldn’t stop until every single one of them faced justice. Dialing, I heard a familiar voice pick up. “Claire! I was just about to call you!” exclaimed Dr. Leonard Grant, the director of NIAS. “I’ve got great news! Nate’s been officially appointed lead scientist for the project. The higher-ups are thrilled!” His enthusiasm cracked something inside me. “Nate might not wake up,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “And the data… it’s gone.” The line went silent before his voice returned, steel laced with fury. “Who did this to you? Tell me everything.” As I explained, tears choked me. “How do I fix this? Patients are waiting. The drug needs to be developed… and I’ve failed at every turn.” But Dr. Grant’s voice was resolute. “You haven’t failed, Claire. Hold on. Help is coming. The country will always stand behind you.” Minutes later, Vanessa strutted into the hospital. “You’re not welcome here!” I seethed. “Oh, I have an appointment,” she said with a sly smile. “Dr. Harris is seeing me this afternoon.” My heart sank. Dr. Harris was Nate’s surgeon. If she took him away… “You’re risking his life!” I screamed. Vanessa only laughed. “Guess you better start making funeral plans.” Before I could react, she shoved me from my wheelchair, sending pain lancing through my broken legs. Then, with a cruel smile, she pulled the hard drive from her bag and slammed it to the ground. “This is what you care about, isn’t it? Well, consider it gone!” Her heel came down hard, cracking the casing. A booming voice stopped her. “Enough!” Dr. Grant stormed in, his expression thunderous. “I don’t care who your backer is,” he roared. “No one is above this country’s justice!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295102”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic