After entering college, I ignored the school rules. Gradually, I found that no one in the dormitory remembered me anymore. I screamed loudly in front of them, but they couldn’t hear me; I danced wildly in front of them, but they couldn’t see me. I hurriedly flipped through the group photos we had taken together in our dorm, wanting to prove my existence to them, But I accidentally discovered that there were two people I didn’t recognize standing next to me in the photos… My name is Rachel Lane, and I’m a sophomore in college. With my poor grades, I got into this low-ranking university. After arriving, I felt bored every day. At first, I could obediently follow the school rules and attend classes seriously. Later, I found it meaningless, so I skipped classes every day to sleep and play games in the dorm. That’s how I made it to sophomore year. One day, I got down from my bed to go to the cafeteria for food and found my roommates were all downstairs. I asked if they had eaten, but strangely, no one answered me. I walked away awkwardly. When I came back, I realized I had forgotten my key. So I knocked on the door, hoping my roommate would open it for me. After a while, the door opened. It was Samantha, the head of our dorm. I thanked her. But she seemed not to see me and said to the other two in the dorm, “How strange, someone knocked but there’s no one here.” I thought they were playing a game with me, so I went along with it and said, “Yeah, because I’m a ghost!” Still, no one responded to me. I felt weird and said, “Have you had enough? I admit your acting is very good. Hey!” I raised my voice and shouted at them. Next, I made faces and jumped around in front of them, but they still ignored me. “I suddenly realized that I haven’t seen Rachel all day,” one of them said. “Maybe she’s sleeping up there again. She played games all night last night!” “But she can’t skip meals. I’ll go call her!” Samantha called out to my bed. I climbed up to my bed, thinking that if they couldn’t see me when I actively moved around in front of them, maybe they could see me if they actively came to find me. Samantha pulled open my bed curtain and saw me looking expectant. She couldn’t help but smile. “Get up, it’s time to eat!” Thank God, they could finally see me. I couldn’t help but hug Samantha, forgiving them for their earlier game. But gradually, I found that no one in the dormitory remembered me anymore. I screamed loudly in front of them, but they couldn’t hear me; I danced wildly in front of them, but they couldn’t see me. I confirmed that they weren’t acting, but really couldn’t see me. Only when they actively wanted to find me could they see me. But slowly, even when they wanted to find me, they could barely remember my name… I hurriedly flipped through the group photos we had taken together in our dorm, wanting to prove my existence to them. But I accidentally discovered that there were two people I didn’t recognize standing next to me in the photos…

I was startled. Who were they? Why were they in the group photo with us? I saw a note next to the photo: “303, a family of six!” So, our dorm originally had 6 people! I broke out in a cold sweat. Perhaps two people, like my recent situation, had gradually been forgotten by others, as if their existence had been erased. I walked out of the dorm room and found that my name on the nameplate at the door had faded, as if it was about to disappear. There was a blank space under the words on the nameplate, as if two other names had once been written there. I also noticed places I had never paid attention to before. Throughout the dormitory building, there were 6-person, 5-person, 4-person rooms, and even 1-person rooms. Some dorms seemed to have disappeared, such as rooms 203, 502, and 409, which couldn’t be found. But no one found this strange, including my previous self, as if it was all normal. It seems this phenomenon wasn’t just happening in one dorm, but was widespread! But why was I being forgotten? Why did my other two roommates and some dorms in the building disappear? Suddenly, I looked up and saw a large warning sign in the dorm corridor. It listed the school rules: 1. Always remember your student identity and obey school rules; 2. Each person enters school with 50 initial credits, violating one rule deducts 2 points, severe consequences when all points are lost; 3. After lights out in the dorm, please lie down immediately, close your eyes, and no matter what happens, don’t open them; 4. Wake up at 7 am every day to listen to the principal’s speech in the auditorium, no sleeping or talking during this time; 5. No being late or leaving early for class, no sleeping or talking in class; 6. You can earn 2 credits by doing volunteer cleaning activities for the school; 7. No asking for leave or leaving school, good students persist in attending class even when sick~ 8. If you have any problems, find the counselor, although he may not help you; 9. The higher the grade, the greater the challenges, please be prepared. I recalled the scene of the first day I entered this school when many students saw these 9 rules. But everyone ignored these rules. We’re all college students now, how can we be managed so strictly? Is there any justice? Later, some students did violate these rules, but everyone saw that they didn’t seem to suffer any serious consequences, so gradually everyone became careless, and I was one of them. These school rules posted in plain sight every day were gradually ignored by everyone, but now they seemed very eye-catching on the wall. Combined with my recent experiences and discoveries, perhaps the severe consequences written in the rules were gradually being forgotten, then having one’s existence erased. Previously, people didn’t see any consequences for those who violated the rules, purely because everyone forgot about these people, until they themselves were erased from existence. I opened the school’s official website, which showed that my current credit score was 10 points. So the lower the credits, the closer one is to being forgotten by everyone and finally being erased from existence? I took a photo of these rules, planning to study them carefully back in the dorm.

For the next two days, I studied the school rules while constantly verifying them. Sure enough, as long as I violated the rules, my credits would automatically decrease, as if there was 24-hour monitoring on you. But as long as I followed the rules well, credits wouldn’t be deducted, but they wouldn’t increase either. As my score decreased, besides finding that I was being forgotten by people, many things that could prove my existence gradually disappeared, including photos, nameplates, and even my chat records in other people’s phones. Not only that, but I always heard someone knocking on the dorm door and windows when I slept at night. Then it felt like something was touching my feet, and there was a child’s wail in the distance. I was shaking with fear, but I didn’t dare open my eyes or call out to wake my roommates. Because I knew they could no longer hear my voice. Even if I called for help in any way, they couldn’t see or hear me, and couldn’t save me. I could only remember the rules and keep my eyes tightly closed. I tried to call for help, but I couldn’t remember my parents’ phone numbers or even what they looked like. I called the police, but couldn’t get through. I sent a message to the counselor saying I wanted to ask for leave to leave school, but he wouldn’t approve it no matter what. I was nearly breaking down, but I told myself I had to stay calm. Since I couldn’t get out, I had to ensure I wouldn’t disappear first. Currently, I only had 8 credits left. From now on, I must obey all the rules to ensure I don’t lose any more points, and I must also increase my credits! I went to find the counselor, thankfully he could still see me. I applied for a campus cleaning volunteer activity. He smiled, his mouth corners stretching to his ears, showing all his teeth. I saw some red liquid on his teeth and couldn’t help but shudder. He said unclearly, “Rachel, it’s you again. Not bad, not bad. For so many years, only you have been doing this consistently…” He rambled on about many things I couldn’t understand, and finally let me take the cleaning tools to find Old Joe the gardener. I didn’t have time to think deeply about the strangeness in his words. I grabbed the cleaning tools and ran towards the large lawn at the back of the school. The grass was overgrown here, with only Old Joe cutting it with a sickle. I told him who I was, but he didn’t say a word, just handed me a note that read: Volunteer content: Clear all the weeds and clean up everything that shouldn’t be here. During the volunteer work, no matter what happens, you cannot run away, or points will be deducted! Also, volunteer activities add 2 credits per hour, no more. Looking at my precarious credit score, I had no choice but to brace myself and start working. The activity wasn’t complicated, just very tiring. I kept clearing weeds and picking up trash non-stop. Suddenly I felt like I stepped on something. I looked down and saw it was an arm. My scalp tingled. The further I went, the more human limbs and body parts I found. By now it was dark. To earn more credits, I had been working for 3 hours since class ended. Hungry and exhausted, I started retching at the sight before me. At this moment, Old Joe walked over. His eyes were hollow, looking like a corpse in the moonlight. Then he said to me, “These things that shouldn’t be here need to be cleaned up too. Do it quickly, lights out in your dorm soon.” I stared with wide eyes, trembling as I said, “Joe, what’s going on here? Why not call the police?” Joe replied strangely, “Haven’t you cleaned this before? Don’t ask too much!” Forget it, nothing in this school surprises me anymore. After all, if they can erase people from existence, which is so unscientific, what else wouldn’t they dare to do? I just want to survive well first, then figure out what to do after ensuring I won’t disappear. I held my breath, forcing down the nausea as I cleaned up those things that shouldn’t be there. Before lights out in the dorm, I closed my eyes, but couldn’t sleep. Accompanied by those usual sounds and sensations tempting me to open my eyes, I kept replaying all the bizarre things that happened today. Why did the counselor and Old Joe seem to know me from before, when I had never sought them out before?

For the next few days, even though I was exhausted physically and mentally, I forced myself to wake up on time, obey school rules, and do volunteer work after class. I did 4 hours of volunteer work every day. Finally, after 5 days, I successfully added 40 credits, currently at 48 credits. Just 2 more credits and I’d be back to the initial credit score. Since I only needed to do 1 hour of volunteer work today, I came a bit later. On the 6th day coming to this lawn, it was still the same – cleared the day before, restored to its original state today. I couldn’t help but wonder about the meaning of this cleaning activity. But it didn’t matter, as long as I could add credits. In the evening, I returned to the dorm at 9 pm. My credits were now back to the initial 50 points. I was ecstatic because Samantha could now see me normally and hear me speak. Everything of mine was restored to its original state. My name on the nameplate at the dorm door was also restored. Samantha’s name and mine were on the left and right of the nameplate. Suddenly I thought of something and asked Samantha confusedly, “Samantha, is our dorm a two-person room?” “Hasn’t it always been? We’re almost done with sophomore year and you’re still asking?” she replied. My head hurt for a moment, then I nodded in affirmation. Yes, it’s always been two people. I don’t know why I just asked that. Oh right, there’s something more important! I took out my phone and called the police, reporting the school’s address. But they said there was no such school and warned me not to interfere with their work. What!? Why can’t the school be found outside? I tried to secretly climb over the school wall to escape, but it was useless. The school wall seemed ten stories high, impossible to climb over. I walked to the school gate and through the gaps in the iron bars, I saw that the outside was a blur. The security guards at the gate were tall and strong. Some held chainsaws, some held axes, staring at me with a pair of bloodshot, protruding eyes. I didn’t dare to act rashly. I wanted to ask other students for help, but I found their eyes were all very hollow, completely ignoring me. At this point, I thought of my roommate and quickly ran back to the dorm. On the way back to the dorm, I frowned, thinking, I live alone, where did the roommate come from? I still returned to the dorm. There was only one bunk bed with a desk underneath. I was more certain that only I lived in the dorm.

I still obediently followed the school rules, maintaining my 50 initial points. Since I couldn’t escape, and people outside couldn’t save me, I might as well follow the school rules well and be able to leave when the holiday comes, right? But I remember I haven’t been out for a long, long time. The school seems to have never had a holiday. I just became a sophomore. I went to ask the counselor when we could have a holiday. He still stared at me with that weird look, but there was no choice, the rules said we could only seek help from the counselor. He said unclearly, “No holidays, you’ll degenerate at home, won’t be good students anymore…” I asked again, “Sir, can we only leave after graduation?” He laughed loudly, the sound almost piercing my eardrums. After laughing, he said, “No one can persist until graduation… you degenerates!” I didn’t understand. Does it mean no one can leave? In the end, can everyone only be gradually erased from existence in this school? I must investigate this school well and find a way out. At 7 am, I woke up on time and went to the auditorium as usual to attend the principal’s speech. The content of the principal’s speech was the same every day: “Students, obey the school rules! Students, be good students! Students, listen to classes carefully! Students, …” The principal kept repeating these words, waving his hands as he spoke with great emotion, but his eyes were very small, so small they seemed to have disappeared, and only a mouth was speaking on his entire face. When I noticed this, I instantly broke out in a cold sweat. But every student around me didn’t find it strange. They stared blankly at the principal with hollow eyes. At the end of the speech, the principal suddenly announced that the students present had been promoted to junior year. After that day, I often felt more and more like a walking corpse. Numbly obeying school rules, my mind was in a fog, always feeling like I had forgotten something. I suddenly realized that the longer I stayed in this school, the easier it was to lose consciousness, become numb, and finally forget who I was. This perfectly proved the last rule of the school: the higher the grade, the greater the challenges indeed became as we stayed in school longer, but this challenge seemed to let no one win. The school made those who didn’t obey the rules be forgotten by others, and made those who obeyed the rules forget themselves. It seems that obeying the rules can’t guarantee that I can leave either. Is it destined that coming to this school means we can’t leave and will eventually disappear?

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During the Christmas holidays, my niece cut up my new dress. She looked at me with innocent eyes and said, “Aunt Rachel, I just wanted to make clothes for my doll. You won’t be mad at me, will you?” I handed her a gift: “Good girl, you did well. This is your reward.” Later, she destroyed a dress worth $30,000 at the mall. I hadn’t been back to my parents’ house for two years, not for any other reason, but because I was afraid of my spoiled and domineering little niece. I still remember the last time, when my eight-year-old niece destroyed all my makeup. She used lipstick as a paintbrush, smearing foundation and face cream everywhere. Not only that, but she also grabbed my phone and snatched my collectible figurines from the cabinet. Unable to bear it any longer, I shouted at the child. To my surprise, at such a young age, she played the victim, saying I bullied her. When my brother and sister-in-law found out, they didn’t do anything about it, just saying, “Rachel, your niece is still young, don’t take it personally.” My mom also sided with her little granddaughter: “Instead of buying all that makeup, you should give your niece some pocket money.” That day, I was furious. I didn’t go home for two years out of anger. Before the holidays this year, my mom made several FaceTime calls, promising that she wouldn’t let my niece touch any of my things again. Most importantly, she said she hadn’t been feeling well these past two years and wanted me to keep her company. My heart softened, and I bought a ticket home, taking a two-day train ride to get there.

Having learned from past experience, I locked all my expensive items in a suitcase and kept my phone with me at all times. After my brother and sister-in-law came in with their child, they let her run wild. My niece, who was already ten years old, showed no manners at all. Her first words to my mom weren’t a greeting, but rather she stretched out her hand, looking like she was demanding payment. My mom still smiled and took out some money, praising her: “My little Lily has grown up and become more beautiful.” Lily made a face, stuck out her tongue, and ran away. Sitting nearby, I felt very uncomfortable and said a few words. “Mom, you’re spoiling her too much. Look at her arrogant attitude, it’s clearly a lack of manners!” My mom waved her hand dismissively: “Lily is still young, she’ll get better as she grows up.” “She’s already ten years old, how is that still young? Besides, this is a basic education issue. If you don’t manage it now, it’ll be even harder to manage later.” “We’re all family, why do we need so many rules?” Just then, my sister-in-law Karen came out of the bathroom and heard our conversation. She took a couple of tissues to wipe her hands, then crumpled them into a ball and threw it in front of me. “Rachel, you’re not still holding a grudge about Lily ruining your lipstick last time, are you?” I cleared my throat and said, “Karen, I’m not dwelling on what happened last time. It’s just that Lily is so big now, and she’s a girl. She should be taught manners.” Karen frowned, the lines on her recently treated eyebrows not fully faded, making her look somewhat comical. “What does being a girl have to do with it? You’re a girl too. The internet says those old-fashioned rules are not good. Don’t tell me you’ve become foolish from too much studying.” “Karen, that’s not what I meant. Lily’s behavior really needs to be restrained.” “Our Lily is a good student in her class. We don’t need you to tell us how to educate her.” With that, she grabbed a bag of chips and started eating, giving me a side-eye. I wasn’t annoyed. I took out my chat history with a friend and showed it to my mom: “Mom, my friend is actually Lily’s math teacher. She told me that every child in the class gets a ‘good student’ award.” My mom held back a laugh and patted my thigh: “Well, that proves our Lily is no worse than other kids.” Karen quickly agreed: “That’s right, Rachel, don’t make trouble out of nothing.” What a joke, speaking the truth is making trouble? I was about to say something when my mom patted my thigh again. Fine, there’s no point talking to them. Since that’s the case, I’ll keep quiet.

At the dinner table, my parents, brother and sister-in-law, and a few other relatives were all present. Lily was poking around her plate with her fork, and soon a plate of salad was covered in her saliva. She pouted and threw down her fork: “Hmph, I don’t like salad. I want to eat barbecue.” Karen gave her a piece of barbecue, smiling and coaxing: “Sweetie, try the beef your grandma grilled.” Lily took one bite and immediately spat it out, complaining: “Yuck, it tastes awful. It’s not as good as what you make, Mom.” You should know that my mom and I had been busy in the kitchen all morning, with no one coming to help. Karen sat in the living room eating chips and watching TV, doing nothing, claiming she couldn’t touch water because of her newly done nails. I smiled and moved the plate of barbecue to my side. “Since Lily doesn’t like it, Aunt Rachel will eat it.” Saying that, I distributed the barbecue to the elders. They all praised: “It’s really good.” “Even better than what you get in restaurants.” Karen’s face instantly darkened, and she kept quiet, eating her food. Not long after, Lily insisted on taking my brother’s phone to play games. My brother angrily scolded: “I told you not to play with my phone, why don’t you ever listen!” Karen pounded on my brother’s chest, yelling: “You play on your phone all day, who knows what kind of floozy you’re hooking up with!” “Karen, you’re asking for a beating…” “Come on then, hit me. If you have the guts, hit me to death.” My brother was about to hit her, and seeing the situation was getting out of hand, everyone rushed to mediate. As the two of them argued, hurling insults back and forth, Lily had disappeared. Maybe the little girl was hiding somewhere to play. Anyway, my makeup and phone were all locked up, she wouldn’t be able to find them. The two eventually backed down under the persuasion of the relatives to “talk it out,” and finally quieted down. In the afternoon, after the guests left, I wanted to go back to my room for a nap. When I opened the door, I felt like I was about to explode with anger!

Lily was holding scissors in her hand, and next to her was my new dress, which had been cut beyond recognition. It was originally hanging in the closet, and I was planning to wear it to a friend’s gathering tomorrow. Now it had been cut into a sieve by this little devil. I was so angry I could have ground my teeth to dust. This dress cost me nearly three hundred dollars, and now she had cut it into rags. I clenched my fists, my body shaking with anger. Just as I was about to burst out in a rage, I met Lily’s pair of innocent, bright eyes. She looked up and called me for the first time since coming in: “Aunt Rachel, I wanted to make clothes for my doll. You won’t be mad at me, will you?” As she spoke, she held up the doll she had clumsily stitched together. The fabric of my poor dress had suffered such a cruel fate. I wasn’t resigned, really not resigned. This child, though young, was very manipulative. If I shouted now that she had cut up my dress, not only would I not get compensation and an apology from my brother and sister-in-law, but my parents would also side with her. Seeing that I didn’t speak, Lily tugged at my pant leg, tears welling up in her eyes: “Aunt Rachel, are you angry?” “It’s just a dress, I’ll pay you back when I grow up.” “Aunt Rachel, Mom says you earn a lot of money at work. You wouldn’t make things difficult for a little kid like me, would you?” I smiled. This child was quite good at emotional blackmail. What kind of thoughts had her mother been instilling in her? Since family education couldn’t teach her, let society do it then. Sooner or later, she would pay the price she deserved. I shook my head, picked her up and put her on the bed, took the crooked doll she had sewn, and only praised: “Lily is so clever, this doll is very beautiful, a thousand times better than me.” Saying this, I took out a bill from my pocket. “Lily, your doll is so beautiful, Aunt Rachel wants to reward you with some pocket money.” “Thank you, Aunt Rachel!” Lily snatched the money and ran to the living room, abandoning the doll. “Mom, look!” Lily proudly handed the bill to Karen. Karen was delighted when she saw it. She stroked Lily’s head: “It’s all because Lily is so likable that your Aunt Rachel gave you so much pocket money.” I stood in place, smiling imperceptibly, clutching the doll tightly in my hand.

Two days later, Karen came home crying, followed by my dejected brother and a bewildered Lily. “Karen, what’s wrong? Didn’t you go out shopping?” my mom asked. “Mom, we can’t go on living like this,” Karen sobbed, barely able to catch her breath. “Lily cut up more than a dozen dresses at the mall, and they’re asking us to pay $30,000 in compensation.” As she spoke, she took out a sales receipt from her bag. The price of each dress was over a thousand dollars. I was so shocked I covered my mouth, though actually, my smile was reaching the sky. Serves them right. Let them face the consequences of not disciplining their daughter properly. My mom nearly fainted, at a loss for what to do. She grabbed my hand: “Rachel, what should we do now?” “Sigh,” I said helplessly, “It’s reasonable for the mall to ask for compensation when their clothes are damaged.” “How could you let the child cut up the clothes in the mall?” I frowned, adding a bit of fuel to the fire. My brother was already furious about this incident, and Karen was crying loudly beside him. Unable to contain his temper, he smashed a teacup: “All you know is how to cry! You didn’t watch the child properly, just chatting with others. Now look what’s happened, they want you to pay $30,000!” Karen, unwilling to back down, also smashed a teacup: “You have the nerve to blame me? As soon as we entered the mall, you disappeared. I called you ten times when the incident happened, and you were always on the phone. What exactly were you doing? You know very well!” “I was contacting clients for business. How else do you think we make money to support the family!” “Stop using work as an excuse to fool me. You were just hooking up with that floozy. Don’t think I don’t know.” The two were about to get physical again. I had to pull my mom away to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Lily, completely unaware that she had done anything wrong, grabbed some cookies from my room and started eating. In the end, I had to step in to resolve this war. Karen had been slapped, her hairstyle was a mess, and her newly done nails were all ruined. My brother was more severely injured, his face covered in bruises, with a black eye and a bleeding nose. I took the sales receipt and said, “Why don’t we ask the police to mediate?” My brother held his head in his hands, his face full of worry: “This is the price they gave after negotiation. The mediation document is right here.” According to my brother, when Lily was caught in the act by the mall staff, Karen immediately threw a tantrum, pulling out several strands of the saleswoman’s hair. After the mall manager called the police, Karen initially refused to admit it was Lily who did it. The police checked the surveillance footage, and the evidence was conclusive. The mall manager took a firm stance, demanding compensation at the original price. I asked Lily, “Why did you cut up their dresses?” Lily raised her little face defiantly and said, “The girls in my class said I have a talent for design. The dresses in the mall were too ugly, so I wanted to improve them.”

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In my past life, my sister insisted on going to the Peak District for an outdoor painting trip. Despite my concerns for her safety, I couldn’t change her mind, so I had no choice but to accompany her. Unexpectedly, we encountered two villagers who tried to force us back to their village. I fought to hold them off, allowing my sister to escape while I was knocked unconscious and taken away. I thought my sister, having managed to escape, would go to the police or tell our parents to come rescue me. But she didn’t. She was afraid of letting our parents know that my misfortune was because of her. So, while I endured humiliation in the depths of the forest, she continued to enjoy her once beautiful life, even receiving more love from our parents because of my disappearance. Years later, when I finally escaped and returned home, I found that my place had long since vanished. A life of illness caused me to die early in my childhood home. But then, I found myself reliving that day when she was about to set off on her painting trip.

“Artists cannot do without inspiration! Sitting at home will never lead to great works! You and Mum and Dad, with your business-minded ways, will never understand!” My sister, Lily Summers, clutched her easel in one hand and her train ticket in the other, defiantly shouting at me. “I’m not trying to stop you from going on your trip, I just think you shouldn’t go to such a remote place.” As I approached her, my previously resigned and indulgent expression suddenly darkened. Lily didn’t notice; she was still throwing a childish tantrum at me. “I’ve finally discovered a place no one has ever been to, and you want to stop me! You can’t stand the thought of me being better than you or becoming famous!” My heart trembled as I took in the scene before me: the youthful and shorter Lily, my own agile legs, and our somewhat old-fashioned home, all conveying one truth. I had returned to the very day my sister wanted to go on her outdoor trip! In my previous life, she had acted just as foolishly, insisting on visiting that desolate area. My pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and in the interest of her safety, I had to force her to agree to let me accompany her. Little did we know that we would soon encounter two locals. The greedy gazes of the two men shifted back and forth between Lily and me as they edged closer. I knew something was terribly wrong. I quickly handed my phone to Lily so she could call the police, while I relied on my limited martial arts skills to fend off the two men. But I was no match for the sturdy farmers, and in her panic, Lily couldn’t even make the call. I found myself pinned to the ground, desperately urging her to run. In that moment, Lily reacted quickly, clutching her easel, bag, and my phone before vanishing without a trace. At that time, I believed she had escaped, and we would both be safe. I fought desperately to stop the two men from pursuing her, only to be beaten unconscious. When I awoke, I found myself trapped in a dark, damp cellar. I couldn’t see anything, only hearing the scurrying of mice, the buzzing of insects, and the chilling laughter of men. I lost track of time in the cellar, but gradually, through the beatings, I learned to disguise and submit. Eventually, I discovered from those men that I had been imprisoned for four years. Four long years, with no one searching for me. I couldn’t understand why. Eventually, due to my extreme submission and my pregnancy, I was allowed to emerge from the cellar. Seven years later, seeing the sun again brought tears to my eyes, and I broke down sobbing. For I saw in the mirror a version of myself I had never known. My filthy, long hair, a swollen body barely covered in rags, emitting the same stench as those men while heavily pregnant. In the following days, under the strict watch of the villagers, I gave birth to child after child. Then, in a daily cycle of resignation, I finally found my chance to escape. I dropped my hoe, ignoring the sounds of my babbling children behind me, and sprinted through the fields taller than I was. Sharp stones cut into my feet, but I didn’t stop; thorny plants pierced my skin, yet I pressed on without slowing. At that moment, I selfishly thought I should have made this mad dash for freedom years ago. After successfully escaping, I encountered kind people in the town who provided food and drink and took me to the police, who then brought me to my parents’ new address. It was a grand detached house with a garden in a thriving city. The house was bright and sunny, with two housekeepers tending to their duties. My sister was barefoot on the lawn, arranging her paintings and occasionally flashing a cute smile at her wealthy boyfriend. But in an instant, that smile turned to panic when she saw me. She clearly hadn’t expected my return. Nor had our parents. After embracing me and weeping, they finally realized I was no longer the daughter they had once been proud of. By then, I was nearing middle age, had given birth to seven or eight children, and bore the weight of illness that made me appear older than my parents. Meanwhile, they had risen from the middle class to the upper class, and even Lily, who had little talent, had opened a small gallery and had a caring wealthy boyfriend. Everyone around me seemed to have a bright future and dignity—except for me. I pointed at Lily and revealed the truth to everyone, telling them how I had ended up in this situation, but years of harsh captivity had left me stammering and incoherent. No one believed me, or perhaps no one wanted to help. My parents continued to believe Lily’s story: that I had gone off travelling without being cautious and had been kidnapped. They thought I was now mentally unstable, which was why I was accusing her. A few days later, they decided to send me back to my childhood home. During holidays, they would only see me briefly, and I could only receive treatment for my illnesses at poorly equipped small hospitals. In the end, my parents tragically died in a car accident. I had no money for medical care. As my health deteriorated, Lily finally appeared before me. Lily, carrying the latest luxury handbag, had brought along the very family that had abducted me and the seven children I had given birth to. She urged me to go along with their ways, to love and be loved by them. Finally, she gleefully confessed, “Mum and Dad are proud of your business talent. They’ve only built their fortune using the resources you left behind. If they knew I was the reason you were captured, they would hate me forever. So, when I escaped, I knew I had to keep them from knowing the truth.” “But I never imagined you would be so clever as to return and expose my lies. Even though no one believes you, just thinking of my fiancé knowing I have a filthy sister like you makes me sick. According to the law, if Mum and Dad unexpectedly die, a portion of the inheritance would go to you! How dare you pollute my life so casually!” As she spoke, she forced my weak hand to sign a waiver of inheritance rights before driving away in her flashy car. I collapsed to the ground, wracked by pain and hatred, crying until my tears ran dry. Little did I expect that when I opened my eyes, I found myself back on the day Lily had insisted on going for her outdoor painting trip.

“I don’t care, I don’t care! I’m going! I have a feeling I’ll find a lot of artistic and life opportunities there!” Lily was still begging me. I snapped back to reality and asked with a semblance of a smile, “Really? Are you so sure?” Lily nodded, pulling out her phone to show me a strong male photographer’s profile, who had taken a stunning set of photos in the Peak District a few years back. He claimed the locals were very friendly, living a simple life far from modern society. Simple? I couldn’t help but snicker internally; it was likely just a façade of “simplicity” for strong men. Lily persisted, urging me to agree. “Just let me go! I have a feeling if I don’t go, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life!” I frowned at her words. “But I really can’t trust you to go alone.” Lily’s eyes sparkled with delight as she realized she had a chance. “You’re just worried you want to come with me…” I interrupted her, “Mum and Dad’s company has something going on today; I can’t go with you, but I can call a few of your friends from college. You’re all studying art; it would be safer for you to go together.” Over the years, I had seen through Lily’s jealousy; it was easy to push her toward despair. Sure enough, Lily’s expression changed, her voice rising, “I don’t want to! I didn’t go out with them during the last training, and their grades are better than mine; they must have laughed at me! I’ve finally found a place they haven’t been to; if I take them, I won’t stand a chance next time!” At that point, Lily’s determination was unwavering: “If you won’t go with me, I’ll go alone! The photographer said the locals are friendly, and if anything happens, I can ask for help. Just don’t tell my friends where I’m going! I won’t forgive you if you do!” With that, Lily ran out the door with her easel, pretending to be afraid I would stop her. I stared at the closed door, feeling defeated, and slumped to the floor, taking some time to collect myself.

I didn’t linger at home; instead, I put on my coat and took a taxi to my parents’ small business, which was still in its early stages. My father, not yet old and never one to show disappointment in me, smiled widely upon seeing me and invited me to sit in his office chair. “Just in time! Help me strategise; is this project worth pursuing?” My hands tightened, my fingertips digging into my skin. Sometimes, I had to admit a harsh truth: they didn’t love me as much as they loved Lily and her friends. Their affection stemmed from my talent for business and the connections I brought to the family company. If they truly loved me, I would at least have the freedom to have my own interests, like Lily, even without talent or excellent grades. “Penny for your thoughts?” Dad nudged me. “Have a look at this.” I glanced down at the tender document in my hands, nodding after a quick scan. “This is a blue-ocean project; I discussed it with a few of my university friends, and they say it has great potential. You mustn’t miss this one, Dad!” In my previous life, he had missed this opportunity, and years later, I returned to find him lamenting the loss. Mum, reviewing the accounts, looked up at me with satisfaction, and I smiled back. I had no intention of letting Lily get away with things, nor did I want them to be happy. I needed this company to pave the way for my future. Dad rushed out to instruct the team to get started, and I followed, giving them some useful direction. When I returned to my office, Mum came over with a smile and peeled a lychee for me. Just as she offered it to me, she suddenly asked, “Where’s Lily? Is she still lazing around painting at home?” I shrugged. “I took a nap, and when I woke up, I was the only one at home. I don’t know where she went.” Mum didn’t doubt my words, but her worry prompted her to reach for her phone to call Lily. However, Lily quickly hung up, refusing to answer. Perhaps she was afraid I would tell our parents, who were trying to bring her home. After a few more failed attempts to contact her, Mum sighed and sent a concerned text before shaking her head, saying, “I was going to ask her to come home early for dinner. Let her be; she probably won’t achieve anything, and it’ll be another outdoor painting trip to the mountains where she’ll just get eaten by mosquitoes.” I nodded in agreement with her assessment. Mum continued, “Later, I’m off to a spa with some friends, and your dad has a social engagement. Can you manage to eat something?” I didn’t care about the double standards; I just smiled at her. “Sounds good, Mum.”

Here’s the translation and localization of the provided passages into a natural and interesting British context: In my past life, my sister insisted on going to the Peak District for an outdoor painting trip. Despite my concerns for her safety, I couldn’t change her mind, so I had no choice but to accompany her. Unexpectedly, we encountered two villagers who tried to force us back to their village. I fought to hold them off, allowing my sister to escape while I was knocked unconscious and taken away. I thought my sister, having managed to escape, would go to the police or tell our parents to come rescue me. But she didn’t. She was afraid of letting our parents know that my misfortune was because of her. So, while I endured humiliation in the depths of the forest, she continued to enjoy her once beautiful life, even receiving more love from our parents because of my disappearance. Years later, when I finally escaped and returned home, I found that my place had long since vanished. A life of illness caused me to die early in my childhood home. But then, I found myself reliving that day when she was about to set off on her painting trip. “Artists cannot do without inspiration! Sitting at home will never lead to great works! You and Mum and Dad, with your business-minded ways, will never understand!” My sister, Lily Summers, clutched her easel in one hand and her train ticket in the other, defiantly shouting at me. “I’m not trying to stop you from going on your trip, I just think you shouldn’t go to such a remote place.” As I approached her, my previously resigned and indulgent expression suddenly darkened. Lily didn’t notice; she was still throwing a childish tantrum at me. “I’ve finally discovered a place no one has ever been to, and you want to stop me! You can’t stand the thought of me being better than you or becoming famous!” My heart trembled as I took in the scene before me: the youthful and shorter Lily, my own agile legs, and our somewhat old-fashioned home, all conveying one truth. I had returned to the very day my sister wanted to go on her outdoor trip! In my previous life, she had acted just as foolishly, insisting on visiting that desolate area. My pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and in the interest of her safety, I had to force her to agree to let me accompany her. Little did we know that we would soon encounter two locals. The greedy gazes of the two men shifted back and forth between Lily and me as they edged closer. I knew something was terribly wrong. I quickly handed my phone to Lily so she could call the police, while I relied on my limited martial arts skills to fend off the two men. But I was no match for the sturdy farmers, and in her panic, Lily couldn’t even make the call. I found myself pinned to the ground, desperately urging her to run. In that moment, Lily reacted quickly, clutching her easel, bag, and my phone before vanishing without a trace. At that time, I believed she had escaped, and we would both be safe. I fought desperately to stop the two men from pursuing her, only to be beaten unconscious. When I awoke, I found myself trapped in a dark, damp cellar. I couldn’t see anything, only hearing the scurrying of mice, the buzzing of insects, and the chilling laughter of men. I lost track of time in the cellar, but gradually, through the beatings, I learned to disguise and submit. Eventually, I discovered from those men that I had been imprisoned for four years. Four long years, with no one searching for me. I couldn’t understand why. Eventually, due to my extreme submission and my pregnancy, I was allowed to emerge from the cellar. Seven years later, seeing the sun again brought tears to my eyes, and I broke down sobbing. For I saw in the mirror a version of myself I had never known. My filthy, long hair, a swollen body barely covered in rags, emitting the same stench as those men while heavily pregnant. In the following days, under the strict watch of the villagers, I gave birth to child after child. Then, in a daily cycle of resignation, I finally found my chance to escape. I dropped my hoe, ignoring the sounds of my babbling children behind me, and sprinted through the fields taller than I was. Sharp stones cut into my feet, but I didn’t stop; thorny plants pierced my skin, yet I pressed on without slowing. At that moment, I selfishly thought I should have made this mad dash for freedom years ago. After successfully escaping, I encountered kind people in the town who provided food and drink and took me to the police, who then brought me to my parents’ new address. It was a grand detached house with a garden in a thriving city. The house was bright and sunny, with two housekeepers tending to their duties. My sister was barefoot on the lawn, arranging her paintings and occasionally flashing a cute smile at her wealthy boyfriend. But in an instant, that smile turned to panic when she saw me. She clearly hadn’t expected my return. Nor had our parents. After embracing me and weeping, they finally realized I was no longer the daughter they had once been proud of. By then, I was nearing middle age, had given birth to seven or eight children, and bore the weight of illness that made me appear older than my parents. Meanwhile, they had risen from the middle class to the upper class, and even Lily, who had little talent, had opened a small gallery and had a caring wealthy boyfriend. Everyone around me seemed to have a bright future and dignity—except for me. I pointed at Lily and revealed the truth to everyone, telling them how I had ended up in this situation, but years of harsh captivity had left me stammering and incoherent. No one believed me, or perhaps no one wanted to help. My parents continued to believe Lily’s story: that I had gone off travelling without being cautious and had been kidnapped. They thought I was now mentally unstable, which was why I was accusing her. A few days later, they decided to send me back to my childhood home. During holidays, they would only see me briefly, and I could only receive treatment for my illnesses at poorly equipped small hospitals. In the end, my parents tragically died in a car accident. I had no money for medical care. As my health deteriorated, Lily finally appeared before me. Lily, carrying the latest luxury handbag, had brought along the very family that had abducted me and the seven children I had given birth to. She urged me to go along with their ways, to love and be loved by them. Finally, she gleefully confessed, “Mum and Dad are proud of your business talent. They’ve only built their fortune using the resources you left behind. If they knew I was the reason you were captured, they would hate me forever. So, when I escaped, I knew I had to keep them from knowing the truth.” “But I never imagined you would be so clever as to return and expose my lies. Even though no one believes you, just thinking of my fiancé knowing I have a filthy sister like you makes me sick. According to the law, if Mum and Dad unexpectedly die, a portion of the inheritance would go to you! How dare you pollute my life so casually!” As she spoke, she forced my weak hand to sign a waiver of inheritance rights before driving away in her flashy car. I collapsed to the ground, wracked by pain and hatred, crying until my tears ran dry. Little did I expect that when I opened my eyes, I found myself back on the day Lily had insisted on going for her outdoor painting trip. “I don’t care, I don’t care! I’m going! I have a feeling I’ll find a lot of artistic and life opportunities there!” Lily was still begging me. I snapped back to reality and asked with a semblance of a smile, “Really? Are you so sure?” Lily nodded, pulling out her phone to show me a strong male photographer’s profile, who had taken a stunning set of photos in the Peak District a few years back. He claimed the locals were very friendly, living a simple life far from modern society. Simple? I couldn’t help but snicker internally; it was likely just a façade of “simplicity” for strong men. Lily persisted, urging me to agree. “Just let me go! I have a feeling if I don’t go, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life!” I frowned at her words. “But I really can’t trust you to go alone.” Lily’s eyes sparkled with delight as she realized she had a chance. “You’re just worried you want to come with me…” I interrupted her, “Mum and Dad’s company has something going on today; I can’t go with you, but I can call a few of your friends from college. You’re all studying art; it would be safer for you to go together.” Over the years, I had seen through Lily’s jealousy; it was easy to push her toward despair. Sure enough, Lily’s expression changed, her voice rising, “I don’t want to! I didn’t go out with them during the last training, and their grades are better than mine; they must have laughed at me! I’ve finally found a place they haven’t been to; if I take them, I won’t stand a chance next time!” At that point, Lily’s determination was unwavering: “If you won’t go with me, I’ll go alone! The photographer said the locals are friendly, and if anything happens, I can ask for help. Just don’t tell my friends where I’m going! I won’t forgive you if you do!” With that, Lily ran out the door with her easel, pretending to be afraid I would stop her. I stared at the closed door, feeling defeated, and slumped to the floor, taking some time to collect myself. I didn’t linger at home; instead, I put on my coat and took a taxi to my parents’ small business, which was still in its early stages. My father, not yet old and never one to show disappointment in me, smiled widely upon seeing me and invited me to sit in his office chair. “Just in time! Help me strategise; is this project worth pursuing?” My hands tightened, my fingertips digging into my skin. Sometimes, I had to admit a harsh truth: they didn’t love me as much as they loved Lily and her friends. Their affection stemmed from my talent for business and the connections I brought to the family company. If they truly loved me, I would at least have the freedom to have my own interests, like Lily, even without talent or excellent grades. “Penny for your thoughts?” Dad nudged me. “Have a look at this.” I glanced down at the tender document in my hands, nodding after a quick scan. “This is a blue-ocean project; I discussed it with a few of my university friends, and they say it has great potential. You mustn’t miss this one, Dad!” In my previous life, he had missed this opportunity, and years later, I returned to find him lamenting the loss. Mum, reviewing the accounts, looked up at me with satisfaction, and I smiled back. I had no intention of letting Lily get away with things, nor did I want them to be happy. I needed this company to pave the way for my future. Dad rushed out to instruct the team to get started, and I followed, giving them some useful direction. When I returned to my office, Mum came over with a smile and peeled a lychee for me. Just as she offered it to me, she suddenly asked, “Where’s Lily? Is she still lazing around painting at home?” I shrugged. “I took a nap, and when I woke up, I was the only one at home. I don’t know where she went.” Mum didn’t doubt my words, but her worry prompted her to reach for her phone to call Lily. However, Lily quickly hung up, refusing to answer. Perhaps she was afraid I would tell our parents, who were trying to bring her home. After a few more failed attempts to contact her, Mum sighed and sent a concerned text before shaking her head, saying, “I was going to ask her to come home early for dinner. Let her be; she probably won’t achieve anything, and it’ll be another outdoor painting trip to the mountains where she’ll just get eaten by mosquitoes.” I nodded in agreement with her assessment. Mum continued, “Later, I’m off to a spa with some friends, and your dad has a social engagement. Can you manage to eat something?” I didn’t care about the double standards; I just smiled at her. “Sounds good, Mum.” That night, I sat alone at home, unboxing a beautifully crafted cake I had bought, complete with a candle on top. I clasped my hands together, and after a few seconds, I blew out the candle. I didn’t wish for anything; I was simply grateful for this second chance at life. As I cut a slice of cake, the sweet flavour danced on my tongue. Just then, I heard wedding celebrations in the neighbourhood, and the sound of firecrackers seemed to cheer my new beginning. Having finished the cake, I checked the time and finally picked up my phone to call Lily, only to hear the message that her phone was switched off. I persisted, trying a few more times, while simultaneously dressing and calling my parents who were busy with their engagements, but to no avail; no one answered. Half an hour later, dressed and anxious, I stood on the street, waiting for Lily’s return. All the neighbours in the area witnessed my efforts.

Lily’s disappearance nearly drove Mum to the edge. At first, she thought Lily was just being wilful and would return in a couple of days. But after half a month, she could no longer deceive herself. I approached Mum, gently patting her shoulder in comfort. “Mum, don’t be too upset. Dad and I have already contacted the police; if there’s news, they’ll let us know.” Although I said this, with society as it was, finding a girl who voluntarily ran off to a remote place would be no easy task. Dad chimed in, “Exactly. Don’t worry too much; Lily usually takes off with some cash for a few days. She’ll probably be back before we know it. Don’t stress out, Summer; you’ve been working hard too. Don’t let her worry about her sister and the company.” Mum pushed me away, pointing a finger at me. “Tell me the truth. Did you two have a fight that day? If she hadn’t argued with you, why would she disappear for so long?” Disappointment washed over me. “Mum, how could you think that? If my sister and I had fought and she had run off in a panic, I would have told you! I love her just as much as you do!” Mum ignored my protests, her hands trembling as she did her nails. “If you loved her, you wouldn’t have let her disappear! Useless. You two don’t care about Lily! She’s only just in her third year at uni and hasn’t experienced the harshness of the world. What if a bad man tricks her?” I stood frozen, remembering how in my previous life, Lily mimicked my mother’s attitude when I had gone missing. Back then, Mum had said, “Summer’s too clever for anything to happen. Maybe she’s off with a boyfriend; your dad’s just worrying for nothing.” “To be honest, aren’t you more concerned about the company’s operations? Lily, don’t follow your dad’s worried face; you’ve both lost weight.” Heh. In the dead of night, I got up to get some water and noticed the study door was still ajar. I stood at a distance, quietly listening to their conversation. “Darling, I have to be honest with you. They’re both different to me. When I had Summer, I was forced by your mum, while with Lily, we were doing well, and I wanted to raise her like a delicate flower.”

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After my husband passed away, Mrs. Cole brought home a boy whose features eerily resembled David’s. She claimed it was David reincarnated, sent to make up for the loss. So, I gave everything I had to raise him, grooming him to become the heir of Cole Corporation. But the moment he took control of the company, the first thing he did was cruelly torture me to death. In my final moments, my supposedly dead husband, Erick Cole, appeared alongside his prized student, Mia Summers: “Thank you for raising our son and amassing billions for him. After you die, I’ll make sure our son sees you off!” I was so enraged I spat blood and died! But when I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Erick faked his death. “Mrs. Cole, Professor Cole was in a car accident… it’s hopeless. You need to come to the hospital immediately… Maybe… you’ll still have time to see him one last time… sob… sob…” Mia Summers’ voice was full of sorrow and desperation, followed by sobbing. Hearing her voice again triggered memories of my previous life, and in an instant, I felt an eerie calm. But I still feigned disbelief and choked out: “Erick, wait for me… I’ll be there soon!” Then, I deliberately made Mia uncomfortable: “Mia, tell the hospital to use the best medicine, whatever it takes to save him. Money is never an issue for Cole Corporation!” Mia Summers, always calm and composed, always looked down on me, the businesswoman soaked in greed, didn’t she? Well, this time, I’d show her the true power of money! In my previous life, Erick wasn’t in any car accident. Mia had lied, saying he was on the brink of death to lure me to the hospital. In my grief, I had a real car accident on the way. By the time I came out of surgery, the only thing waiting for me was Erick’s ashes. But in this life, I’ll make sure his fake death becomes real. The car accident they’d planned for me won’t go to waste — I’ll gift it to my wicked mother-in-law, Mrs. Cole. I quickly called my assistant, Aaron Turner, and told him to drive Mrs. Cole to the hospital in my signature car. Meanwhile, I went upstairs, opened the secret vault in the study, and retrieved something important. Then, I called for the four bodyguards my father had left for me, got into my bulletproof SUV, and quietly headed for the hospital.

Outside St. Mary’s Medical Center. Aaron’s anxious and apologetic voice came through the phone: “Mrs. Cole, I’m sorry, the car was in an accident on West Broadway!” “Aaron, are you hurt?” Even though I knew Erick’s plan was meant for me, and that the driver would be fine, I still asked out of concern. “I’m fine, Mrs. Cole, but Mrs. Cole has a fractured leg!” Ha! The same injury I had in my past life! It seemed Erick and Mia were terrified of me arriving at the hospital too quickly. But I wasn’t about to let things go according to their plan. I calmly ordered Aaron: “Call the police to investigate and gather evidence, then call an ambulance and take Mrs. Cole to the hospital.” After all, the old woman wasn’t going to die any time soon! After that, I informed Robert Knight, the chief lawyer for Cole Corporation: “Handle the car accident on West Broadway. Detain the driver, refuse any civil compensation, and file charges for attempted murder.” “Yes, Mrs. Cole.” With everything arranged, I swallowed my rage, stepped out of the car, and rushed to Erick’s room, crying and stumbling the entire way, putting on the perfect performance of a heartbroken wife. The bodyguards behind me exchanged confused glances.

Inside the hospital room. Erick was already covered with a white sheet. My sudden appearance drained the color from Mia Summers’ face. “Mrs… Mrs. Cole, why… how did you get here?” I ignored Mia and everyone else in the room. Covering my mouth, I collapsed onto the floor, but the quiet sobs I forced out soon turned into uncontrollable wailing. “Mrs. Cole, Professor Cole is gone… please, accept my condolences.” Mia, her face filled with fake sorrow, hesitantly tried to help me up. I subtly avoided her touch and threw myself onto Erick’s body, lovingly stroking his head again and again, my voice cracking with tears: “Erick, how could you be so heartless and leave me like this? Erick… wake up… wake up…” The moment I flung myself onto Erick, I swiftly used the golden needle I had hidden in my sleeve to pierce three key acupuncture points on his head. Cole Corporation was built on traditional medicine, but no one knew that I was the sole heir to my grandfather’s golden acupuncture technique. In my previous life, Erick had injected himself with a fake death drug that he and Mia secretly developed, fooling the doctors. They staged the car accident and tricked me into believing it, allowing Erick to fake his death! Erick and Mia lived abroad for 20 years. By the time I had raised their illegitimate son to take over Cole Corporation, I realized on my deathbed just how badly I had been deceived. But their fake death drug wasn’t stable. If the antidote wasn’t administered within two hours, Erick would actually die. Now, I sealed three key acupuncture points on Erick’s head, ensuring that his fake death time was shortened by at least thirty minutes—without leaving a trace. After finishing, I wasted no time. I distanced myself from the “corpse.” With a low, raspy voice, I turned to Mike Thompson, one of my bodyguards, and said: “Go get Mrs. Cole. She needs to see her son one last time.” “Mrs. Cole, but her leg…” “It doesn’t matter. This is more important.” Mia Summers’ eyes flickered with panic as she quickly interjected, her words dripping with concern: “Mrs. Cole, please, don’t tell her just yet! She just had a car accident, and her heart isn’t in good condition… If she finds out about Professor Cole’s death, it might be too much for her.” Oh? So Mia already knew about Mrs. Cole’s car accident! Seems like the old woman didn’t deserve any sympathy for what she’s been through. Seeing Mia’s nervousness, I smirked inwardly as her desperation became obvious. “Professor Cole was her only son. We don’t have the right to take away her chance to say goodbye.” I waved my hand weakly, pretending I was too heartbroken to argue further. Seeing this, Mike immediately left the room. “Mrs. Cole, how can you be so reckless? The dead are gone, but what if something happens to Mrs. Cole? Professor Cole would never forgive you from the afterlife!” “From the afterlife? Yes, Erick, if you’ve become a ghost, make sure you come haunt me… Wouldn’t that mean you couldn’t bear to leave me, Erick?” I lowered my head, my body trembling as I gave a heart-wrenching performance of undying love between the living and the dead. It was enough to leave Mia flustered. If Mia Summers could maintain her composed “calm as a breeze” persona in front of a supposedly dead Erick, then I could play the devoted, virtuous wife who’d die for her husband. This time, I was ready for the long game. I, Sophia Cole, wouldn’t stop until I destroyed everything they loved—until they were separated, and their family was in ruins!

“M-Mrs. Cole, we should start preparing for Professor Cole’s funeral and send him to the morgue.” Mia Summers was growing frantic! Looks like they had accomplices waiting for them in the morgue. No rush though. I’ve been given a second chance, and none of these evil people are going to escape me this time! “Mrs. Cole will be here soon!” The real show could only begin once all the players were present. “Erick… my son… wake up and see your mother. She’s here to see you!” And there she was—the main act! I turned to face Mrs. Cole. She was crying with gut-wrenching anguish, yet there wasn’t a single tear in her eyes. In my previous life, I must have been blind and foolish to believe that a mother who had just lost her only son could move on so quickly. I had convinced myself that it was Jacob, who looked so much like Erick, that helped her recover. That’s how I ended up treating that ungrateful snake like my own son! “Mom, Erick… he’s really gone!” As soon as I said those words, Mrs. Cole’s body visibly stiffened. Shock flashed across her eyes, and she shot a secretive glance at Mia. Mia, thinking she was being discreet, gave a tiny shake of her head. Mrs. Cole relaxed and resumed her loud wailing. Meanwhile, I casually removed the golden needle from Erick’s head. As soon as I did, Mrs. Cole’s face contorted with pain as she clutched her chest. “Ah… ah, my heart… it hurts so much…” “Mom! Mom, what’s happening? Don’t scare me!” I didn’t move a muscle, though I pretended to be worried. “She’s having a heart attack! Move out of the way!” Seeing that Mrs. Cole was genuinely in pain, Mia panicked. She pushed me aside, but I wasn’t bothered. I immediately called Dr. Richard Carter, Mrs. Cole’s heart specialist, and put him on speakerphone. “Dr. Carter, my mother-in-law is having a severe heart attack!” “Mrs. Cole, as I’ve told you before, your mother-in-law can’t delay her heart transplant surgery any longer, but we haven’t found a suitable donor yet.” Dr. Carter’s voice was filled with regret. “What if my husband’s heart is a match?” “What?” Dr. Carter sounded shocked. I continued, my voice breaking as tears welled up. “Dr. Carter… my husband… he was just in a car accident… He’s gone…” Over the phone, Dr. Carter’s tone shifted from sorrow to a faint glimmer of hope. “My deepest condolences, Mrs. Cole… The chances of a match between mother and son are quite high. I’ll bring my team over right away!” “No!” “I won’t allow it!” Both Mia and Mrs. Cole, who had just caught her breath, shouted in unison. Mrs. Cole’s voice was weak, but she still managed to point a trembling finger at me and scolded, “Sophia, my son just died, and you’re already thinking about taking his heart? How can you be so cruel?” Mia quickly chimed in. “Yes, Mrs. Cole, Erick hated pain! How could you be so heartless? We should cremate him right away and let him rest in peace!” I looked at them, my face a picture of sorrow, and said, “Mom, I don’t want this either. But we can’t bring Erick back. If he knew that his heart could keep you alive, I’m sure he’d agree.” “And if possible… Mom, I also want to donate Erick’s other organs to those in need. That way, Erick can live on through others.” “No…” Mrs. Cole was so enraged by my shocking suggestion that she fainted on the spot. The room fell silent. Just as quickly, Mia lost her composure and started screaming. “Help! Someone, help!” At that moment, Dr. Carter arrived with his medical team. Clutching at my last thread of hope, I turned to him, tears streaming down my face. “Dr. Carter, please! Save my mother-in-law. My husband… he’s already gone. Mrs. Cole is my only family now. I can’t lose her too!” “Mrs. Cole, don’t worry. I’ll do everything in my power.” “If the transplant is successful, your mother-in-law could live another twenty or thirty years.” That’s right. In my previous life, I found a suitable heart donor for her. She lived long after I was gone, thanks to that transplant. Remembering the cruelty Mrs. Cole, Erick, and Mia showed me in the past, my eyes filled with tears of rage. “Dr. Carter, please… my husband and mother-in-law are in your hands.” “I’ll have my lawyer and the hospital staff handle the donation paperwork immediately.” “Understood.” Dr. Carter swiftly divided his team into two groups. One group rushed Mrs. Cole into the operating room, while the other prepared to transport Erick’s “body.” As Erick’s wife, I had agreed to donate his organs. Regardless of whether his heart was a match for Mrs. Cole, it needed to be removed and preserved quickly. By this point, Mia was visibly panicking. She clung to Erick’s hospital bed, refusing to let go. “No! You can’t take Professor Cole’s heart!” “Stay away from him! No one’s taking him!” She kicked at the medical staff, wailing as though it was her husband who had just died. I had finally had enough. I slapped her across the face, hard. “How dare you! Mia Summers, this is my family matter, not yours to decide!” With a loud smack, her face turned to the side, red from the blow. I glared at her, my face cold, and ordered the bodyguards, “Take her away!” Mike Thompson followed my instructions, easily pulling Mia away from the bed. As I watched Erick’s “body” being wheeled away, Mia stood there, dumbfounded. Everything had spun completely out of her control. I quickly composed myself, my face turning emotionless as I stared at Mia. Let’s see just how much Mia Summers truly loves Erick. Sure enough, Mia squeezed her eyes shut and screamed, “Professor Cole isn’t dead! He’s not dead!” Ah… finally, the fake death charade couldn’t continue any longer.

After Mia’s repeated interference, even Dr. Carter grew impatient with her. Coldly, he asked, “Who is she?” “She’s just one of my husband’s students! Don’t listen to her nonsense, Dr. Carter.” I stepped in, placing myself between Dr. Carter and Mia. “No! I can prove it! I can prove Professor Cole isn’t dead!” Mia was completely hysterical at this point, her voice rising with desperation. With just a glance from me, Mia slipped free from Mike’s hold and frantically rummaged through her bag. From inside, she pulled out a small medical cooler. Shaking, she rushed over to Erick’s bed, holding up a syringe. I slapped her again, this time with more force. “Stop it!” “Mia Summers, you’re a doctor. How could you believe injecting someone after death would bring them back to life?” “Mrs. Cole, I swear, I can save Professor Cole! You have to believe me! He’s not really dead, he’s just in a fake death state…” “Mia, enough! I know you and my husband were close, but the dead are dead. There’s no such thing as fake death!” “It’s true! Mrs. Cole, there’s still time! If I inject this now, Professor Cole will wake up!” Mia’s crying had turned ugly. Looking at her tear-streaked face, a wave of disgust washed over me. I finally realized that Erick had been blind. Dr. Carter, maintaining his professionalism, walked over to Erick’s bed and checked his vitals once more. After a moment, he shook his head in regret. Meanwhile, the attending physician glanced at his watch and solemnly declared: “As of now, Professor Cole has been deceased for 1 hour, 18 minutes, and 26 seconds. There is no way he can be revived.” His statement immediately turned the room against Mia. Everyone’s gazes were filled with disdain. “Mrs. Cole is Erick’s wife. Do you think she wouldn’t want her husband to live?” “Who does this Mia Summers think she is? She’s acting more like a mistress than a student!” … “Mike, get this lunatic out of here. Don’t let her interfere with Dr. Carter’s work!” It hadn’t even been an hour and a half since Erick’s supposed death. I wasn’t about to give Mia the chance to actually save him. Now that I had been reborn, I was going to make sure Erick truly died this time. Mia was dragged out of the room, her desperate cries falling on deaf ears. Everyone thought she was a mistress who had lost her protector and had gone mad! But as I glanced at the syringe now in Dr. Carter’s hands, I couldn’t help but ask with a glimmer of hope in my eyes: “Dr. Carter, could this injection really bring my husband back to life? Should we try it?” Dr. Carter quickly shook his head in regret and said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cole. Erick is really gone. My condolences.” The hope in my eyes dimmed under his gaze. Still, I wasn’t ready to give up completely. “Dr. Carter, please… what if…?” “Mrs. Cole, you need to focus on the living. Your mother-in-law can’t wait any longer!” Finally, tears of despair flowed from my eyes. “There’s really no hope?” At that moment, the attending physician handed me a death certificate and said: “Mrs. Cole, please sign here.” I took the death certificate, frozen for a moment before covering my face and bursting into sobs. “Erick… how could you be so heartless…” Everyone in the room saw my deep sorrow and helplessness. They rushed to comfort me: “Mrs. Cole, please, you need to sign it. Your mother-in-law’s surgery is more important now!” “Mrs. Cole, you’ve been through so much…” “Yes! Giving up your husband’s heart for your mother-in-law… how difficult that must be!” “Bodyguards can’t provide the same comfort as having real family. Mrs. Cole, you’ve made the right decision to save her!” … After I signed the death certificate, Robert Knight, my lawyer, arrived. He took over the organ donation paperwork for Erick’s heart. I stood there, watching as Dr. Carter wheeled Erick’s “body” into the operating room.

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My foster brother suffered a brain injury, and I was the only one who could wake him up. But he died during the treatment. Afterward, my parents took me to court, screaming that I should pay for his life with mine. I calmly sat in the defendant’s seat. I had been waiting for this day for a long time. I was going to personally send them to hell. I’m the most capable brain repair specialist in the country. I’ve successfully revived coma patients, creating medical miracles, and even stood on the world’s most prestigious stages. Now, I’ve become the disgrace of the medical field, scorned by everyone online. Countless netizens are calling for me to be kicked out of the profession. And it’s all thanks to my biological parents. A month ago, my foster brother, James Miller, was in a car accident that caused a brain injury, putting him into a coma. Every doctor was at a loss. My estranged parents found me, using every method they could to force me to save him. But they never expected James to die during the treatment. In their grief, I became their target for revenge. They accused me of being a fraud, a killer. Not only did they cry out on every platform about how ungrateful, rebellious, and defiant I was, but they also took me to court, demanding I pay with my life. Today is the day of the trial. The moment I appeared, I was bombarded by microphones. “Dr. Harris, your parents claim that after you became successful, you never gave them a dime, and you even blocked their contact. Is that true?” “You’re known as the miracle doctor who can revive coma patients. Why did your foster brother die during treatment? Is there something you’re not telling us?” The questions from the reporters were getting more intense by the minute. My bodyguard and assistant, Megan King, was pale as snow. I held her cold hand, my gaze cutting through the crowd to meet the hateful eyes of my parents in the distance. I suddenly smiled. “Everything will be decided in court. I believe the wicked will go to hell!”

The trial began. I sat in the defendant’s seat, bored, listening to my parents on the plaintiff’s side lay out my supposed sins. Rebellious since childhood, always hanging out with a street gang, refusing to change. After becoming successful, I never cared for my parents and even publicly claimed to be an orphan. During the treatment of my foster brother, I abandoned the procedure before it was completed, causing his mind to become unstable, which led to his death. By the end, they were in such agony that my biological mother looked like she wanted to leap across the room and beat me. “Order! Lily Harris, do you admit to the charges brought against you by the plaintiffs?” the judge said, tapping the gavel. “What they said is true, but I don’t think I’m guilty,” I said, nodding calmly. The courtroom erupted. On every live stream, the screens were filled with angry comments. “She’s so arrogant. Just throw her in jail already!” “She made her money and thinks she’s above her parents. Heartless!” “Just sentence her now!” Amid the barrage of curses, I raised my hand and pointed to my head. “But every story has a reason. Why don’t we let the Cerebral Interface System access my memories? Let everyone see just how ‘horrible’ I really am.” “No!” Before the judge could respond, my parents jumped in, objecting to the use of my memories, saying it would be biased. “Oh? Well then, let’s use the memories of the deceased, my foster brother—James Miller, instead,” I said pleasantly, offering them a solution they couldn’t refuse. Seeing them look relieved, I smiled even more mockingly. It’s always more painful to be betrayed by the ones you care about most.

The Cerebral Interface began playing James Miller’s memories. It was winter, and seven-year-old James arrived at our house. I was six. I was sitting on a little stool, scrubbing thick sweaters by hand, my fingers red and swollen like carrots. James looked shocked and asked my parents tearfully, “Did you adopt me to make me work?” “Of course not!” My mother’s voice was the softest I had ever heard, a tone she had never used with me. “You’re a boy. You don’t have to do this kind of girly work. Just grow up well, that’s all.” My dad pulled a piece of butterscotch candy from his pocket and popped it into James’ mouth. “Your clothes and shoes, Lily can wash them. And if she doesn’t listen, just hit her like this.” He demonstrated by kicking me. I tried to twist my body to avoid it, but I still ended up falling into the wash basin. Water splashed onto my dad’s shoes, and of course, that led to another beating. James watched, eyes wide with excitement, even finding it amusing. He pressed a finger against the large lump on my head, curious. “How come you don’t cry when you get hit? Are you mute?” The sudden pain made me forget to be cautious, and I shoved his hand away. Naturally, I was punished again. “He’s your brother. It’s his first day here, and you’re already hitting him. What’s next, killing the whole family?” my dad shouted. “Will you ever dare do it again?” The result of this little episode was that I wasn’t allowed to eat dinner. That night, after everyone had gone to bed, I snuck into the bathroom, still wearing my damp clothes, and drank from the tap as if my life depended on it. I’d known from a young age that crying or complaining would only make them angrier. Talking back would get me hit harder. Because I wasn’t the child they wanted. I was just a girl. The old lady next door once told me that for girls like me, education was the only way out. When I turned six, they would have to send me to school. Otherwise, the authorities would come knocking, and they were terrified of government people showing up. “Just six more months,” I whispered to myself, hugging my arms for warmth.

The Cerebral Interface switched to when I was thirteen. I was in middle school. James came home with a basketball in his arms. When he saw I hadn’t finished cooking yet, he hurled the ball at me. He swung his fist and yelled, “Trying to starve me? If you don’t hurry up, I’ll beat you to death!” I ignored him. The ball hit me hard, making me stumble, but I straightened up and kept cooking. When I finished, I rushed to the ping-pong table in the alleyway. There were a few teenagers there, all dressed like punks, waiting for me. “What took you so long? Start writing!” A few backpacks were thrown at me. I quickly pulled out their homework and got to work. Suddenly, I felt a heavy blow to the back of my head. My forehead slammed into the table. “You think we sent you to school so you could hang out with these lowlifes? You’re a disgrace!” my mother snarled, pointing a sharp finger at my face. My dad kicked me to the ground without missing a beat. I tried to explain that I was only earning money for lunch. They didn’t care. They were just venting their anger after losing at cards. “You’re bold now, huh? Not staying home to work, running around outside. You’ll end up in jail, just like these thugs!” I was used to their abuse by then, but I didn’t want them to insult my only friends. Wiping away my tears, I raised my voice for the first time, “They’re not bad people! They’re my friends. Without them, I’d have starved by now!” They were troublemakers, sure, but they had good hearts. They knew I had no money, so they’d let me write their homework in exchange for a meal. Though, in truth, they never actually turned in the homework. “Starve? It’d be better if you did! You’d save us some food!” “You still talking back? I’ll kill you today!” After another round of punches and kicks, I was dragged back home like a rag doll. “Mute girl, aren’t you supposed to be good at school? Let’s see if you’ll still take tomorrow’s test now.” James stomped on my already injured hand with his shiny new sneakers, eyes full of malice. He was jealous of my good grades. It was his way of warning me.

The Cerebral Interface paused, showing the contrast between the pristine white sneakers and my scarred hand. The reporters in the gallery were now somber, their aggressive attitudes gone, replaced with looks of condemnation directed at my parents. The live stream went silent for a while before comments started flooding in. “Poor Lily.” “These parents aren’t just sexist—they’re insane! He’s just a foster child, but their daughter is their own flesh and blood!” My parents saw the comments but didn’t care. In fact, they shamelessly retorted, “A daughter is only raised for someone else’s family. In the end, you rely on a son!” “Everyone’s kids get hit sometimes. That doesn’t excuse her for abandoning her parents and pretending she’s an orphan!” The judge banged the gavel, calling for order in the court. Once the room quieted down, the Cerebral Interface continued. This time, it showed James at sixteen. I had just been accepted into a prestigious high school as the top student in the county. The school leadership came to our house to congratulate me and brought along some school supplies. Many others came by to celebrate. But just as the atmosphere was at its peak, James dragged me, with my eyes swollen from crying, in front of the school officials. “Do you accept blind students at your school?” he sneered. Everyone went silent. Someone asked, “What happened? Can she still be treated?” I wanted to cry for help, but my mother clamped her hand over my mouth. My father, looking sorrowful, sighed and explained to everyone, “What else could have happened? I told her not to hang out with those gang kids, but she wouldn’t listen. Now look at her! She came back like this. We can’t control her anymore.” “Even if her eyes get better, how can we send her to school? She’s unruly, and her grades were never that good. Who knows how she got those top marks this time? It’s so embarrassing!” After their little performance, the people who had come to congratulate me started leaving, shaking their heads in disappointment. Soon, it was just the four of us in the yard. “Smack!” My mother slapped me across the face. “Were you about to tell them it was your brother who hurt you? I should have killed you when you were born!” James stood by, laughing cruelly. “What’s the point of seeing a doctor? It’s better if you’re blind, then you’ll stop trying to run away.” As their footsteps faded, I curled up in the dark corner, my world plunged into darkness.

The Cerebral Interface rewound James’ memories, showing the reason I had gone blind. After middle school, I knew my biggest challenge was how to pay for high school. Through some friends, I started selling jasmine flower bracelets at a local flea market. I didn’t make much, but I calculated that if I worked all summer, I’d have enough for my tuition. One evening, I had just set up my stall when James showed up with a group of his friends. They stomped on the flowers I had carefully gathered, destroying them. Then, they took the money I had worked so hard to earn. I tried to reason with him, but he grabbed my wrist and slammed me against the wall. He looked at me with disdain. “This house belongs to me. Who do you think you are?” He started to walk away. I swallowed my pride and grabbed his leg, kneeling at his feet. “Please, James, that money is for my school fees. Without it, I can’t go to school!” He sneered. “A girl like you doesn’t need an education. All you need to do is learn how to work and have kids. Who cares about school?” Then he kicked me aside. I followed him into an alley, pleading for him to return at least part of the money. He grew irritated, picked up a handful of lime powder, and threw it into my eyes. I screamed in agony, writhing on the ground. Through the pain, I heard my parents calling out to James. They had bought some bread and were inviting him home to eat. I forced myself to my feet, stumbling toward their voices. “Mom! Dad! James threw lime into my eyes. Please help me!” My mother’s response was cold. “Stop making things up. Why would James do that to you?” My father added, “Who knows what kind of trouble you’ve been getting into again? A girl like you, always running around—you’re an embarrassment to the family!” Their voices faded, replaced by the sounds of them coaxing James to come home for dinner. I was left alone in the dark alley.

Some friends from the gang found me the next day. By then, I had been lying in the backyard for a full day and night, feverish and swollen. They panicked at the sight of me. “You’re burning up! Your eyes are swollen shut. We need to get you to a hospital!” But just as they lifted me, my parents and James appeared. “Put her down. Where do you think you’re taking her?” my father demanded. “To the hospital, of course! If we leave her here, she’ll die!” my friends shouted back. They knew exactly what kind of life I had at home. They were just kids themselves, unable to help me escape before. But now, with my life on the line, they couldn’t stand by. Determined, they started to carry me out. “If you take her, you’ll have to keep her. Don’t bother bringing her back!” my father yelled. My friends hesitated, realizing the weight of the responsibility. They couldn’t afford to take care of me. James grabbed me by the hair and dragged me back, dumping a bowl of dirty dog water over my face. “Know your place, mute girl. You’ll never escape!” The filthy water splashed into my burning eyes, jolting me back into consciousness. With all the strength I had left, I pushed James to the ground. Then, kneeling on the ground, I turned to my parents and knocked my head against the dirt three times. I groped my way out of the house. I had finally seen the truth. If I stayed here, I would die. If I left, there was at least a chance I might live. “James, are you hurt? Does anything feel broken? Do you need to go to the hospital?” my mother fussed over him. “We’ll break her legs and hand her over to you for good, don’t worry,” my father added. They didn’t care that I had left. Because, in their minds, I would never truly escape.

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After five years of marriage, I finally gave birth to a daughter. The entire family was overjoyed. My mother-in-law, Margaret Johnson, was especially eager to help take care of my daughter, allowing me to focus on my career without any worries. Just as I was about to hand my daughter over to her, I suddenly heard a small voice. “Mummy, please don’t give me to that old lady! She’ll sell me!” I was stunned when I heard that voice. I looked around; the TV was off, and there were no other devices playing anything. Was it just my imagination? “Emily, what are you thinking? Hurry up and give the baby to me,” Margaret urged impatiently. My daughter, Lily, had just turned three months old. Ever since her arrival, the whole family had doted on her, and I had stayed by her side every moment. But now, my workplace was pressing me to return, and though I didn’t want to part with Lily, my mother-in-law volunteered to take care of her, so I could concentrate on advancing my career. With Margaret’s kind expression in front of me, I thought I must have been imagining things. As I prepared to hand my daughter over again, that small voice rang out once more. “Mummy! Don’t give her to that old woman! She’ll sell me as a child bride!” I jolted, quickly pulling my daughter close and watching Margaret warily. I had clearly heard that voice! Moreover, it sounded like my daughter’s thoughts? Though I wasn’t sure what was happening, I couldn’t take any chances! “Emily, what do you mean by this?” Margaret’s tone turned icy. “I’m just trying to help you out!” “Pah! Old woman, your so-called help is clearly just a scheme to sell me off to make room for your other grandson!” That innocent voice sent a chill down my spine. I struggled to compose myself and replied calmly, “Mum, I’ve thought about it. Lily is still very young and needs her mother around. I’ll have another word with my boss about work.” Margaret’s face stiffened for a moment before she forced a smile and said, “Look, work can’t be delayed! I can take care of my granddaughter, so you can focus on your career!” “Thanks for your kindness, Mum, but I’d prefer to stay with Lily a bit longer.” With that, I ignored Margaret’s displeased expression and retreated to my room. Once I locked the door, I placed Lily in her crib and softly asked, “Baby, Lily, was that you talking to Mummy just now?” Lily babbled away, waving her tiny hands and feet. I waited for a moment, but I didn’t hear that voice again. Sitting beside the crib, I tried to calm my racing thoughts. The voice I’d heard earlier claimed that Margaret wanted to sell Lily to make space for her other grandson. Margaret only had one son—my husband, Andrew. If she had another grandson out there, it meant that my husband… was cheating?

I met Andrew during our university days. At first, I didn’t like him and clearly rejected his advances, but he didn’t give up, pursuing me for two whole years. Eventually, I was touched by his persistence, and we entered a relationship. A year after graduating, we got married. After marriage, I longed for children, but Andrew insisted we were both in our career prime and that having a child would impact our work, so our intimacy was scarce, and whenever it did happen, precautions were taken. Then, about a year ago, one evening we both got a bit too tipsy, forgot to take precautions, and I ended up pregnant. I was thrilled! At first, Andrew seemed a little hesitant, but soon he was just as excited, buying toys and baby clothes, saying he couldn’t wait to meet our little miracle. Now that I thought about it, was it possible Andrew hadn’t wanted children because he already had a son elsewhere? “Darling, I’m back!” As I pondered this, I heard the sound of the door opening, followed by a knock. “Honey, are you in there? Why is the door locked?” I walked over, opened the door, and smiled, “I must have locked it without realising! What brought you home so early today?” “I’m lucky today, no late meetings, so I rushed back to see my beautiful wife and our precious daughter.” Andrew wrapped me in a big hug before walking over to the crib to gently lift Lily into his arms. “Hey, little one! Did you miss Daddy?” I stayed close, unwilling to let my guard down for even a moment. Lily waved her hands and feet energetically. “Don’t touch me with your dirty hands, you scoundrel! You horrible father! Pah!” I gasped in shock. The voice of my daughter returned! “What are you pretending to be, a good husband and father? Your other son is six years old! You come home late every day, saying it’s work, but you’re actually out with your mistress and your illegitimate son! Pah! I can’t stand to look at you!” At that moment, Lily suddenly closed her eyes, her tiny fists clenched tightly, as if exerting effort. I was still reeling from the previous words when Andrew suddenly exclaimed, “Ugh! She just peed on me!” I snapped back to reality, noticing Andrew’s face twisted in disgust and hatred. No normal father would look like that, even if a three-month-old baby had an accident on him. I held back my anger and heartbreak, taking Lily from him, saying, “I forgot to change her nappy earlier.” Andrew rushed out to clean himself up. As I changed Lily, I heard her voice again. “Mummy, you’re so pitiful. You’ve been kept in the dark for years. Your own daughter could have been sold off and suffered, and now you’ll have to take care of that mistress’s son! Once he’s grown, those beasts will work together to destroy you both! They’re living it up on our corpses…” My hands trembled uncontrollably. The weight of those words was overwhelming. But I forced myself to digest it all. From what I gathered from Lily’s thoughts, it seemed Margaret had pretended to want to help me care for Lily but actually aimed to sell her off in secret. And Andrew, while playing the perfect husband and father, had a mistress and even a six-year-old son. Six years! That meant he must have been involved with that mistress for at least seven years… Back when we were still deeply in love during university! The thought of how sweetly Andrew treated me back then made me feel nauseous. If I had unknowingly handed Lily over to Margaret, she would have surely tricked me into believing she’d lost her, leaving me heartbroken. Then Andrew would bring home his son from the affair, and find some excuse for me to adopt him. Knowing my own character, I understood well that in my grief over losing Lily, I would be vulnerable. If Andrew spun a tragic tale about that boy’s past, I would likely take him in and treat him as my own. No wonder Andrew had insisted on not having children all these years; he only didn’t want to have a child with me because he already had one outside! No wonder! At first, he seemed uninterested in this pregnancy, but later he acted as if he was eagerly anticipating the arrival of our child! At that time, he must have already started plotting all of this with my mother-in-law! Lily was his biological daughter too; how could he let go of her!

Just then, Andrew returned, looking freshly cleaned up. He spoke sweet words to me but didn’t dare to hold Lily again. I couldn’t help but smirk inwardly. It suited me just fine since Lily wasn’t keen on being held by him anyway. “Emily, Mum just told me you’re not planning to go back to work?” Andrew asked, frowning. “Why? Didn’t you say you’d sorted things with your company?” I replied lightly, “I just feel that Lily is still too young, and I can’t bear to leave her. I’ll spend more time with her, and if work becomes too much, I’ll step back.” The truth was, I came from a wealthy family with two rental properties and several commercial units. After university, I could have easily taken over the family business, but I enjoyed the feeling of forging my own path, so I’d continued working. Now, however, protecting my precious daughter was my top priority, and I would give those two no chance to take advantage of me! Andrew looked alarmed. “That’s not acceptable!” His words made him seem a bit overzealous, and he softened his tone. “You know my salary isn’t high. We’ve talked about giving Lily the best life, haven’t we?” I couldn’t help but chuckle internally. So he knew his salary wasn’t enough—he had relied on my income to support the family all these years! “So what? My parents have been wanting me to help them with rent collection for ages,” I replied nonchalantly. Andrew wanted to say more, but I feigned impatience. “Enough! I really don’t want to go back to work. I just want to stay with Lily. Don’t push it. Besides, Mum is getting older, and I really don’t trust her to take care of Lily. What if she takes her out and ‘accidentally’ loses her?” I could see a flicker of guilt flash across Andrew’s face. “What do you mean? That’s impossible…” “I was just saying it off the cuff! Let’s drop this topic.” At that, Andrew didn’t dare to press the issue further. That night, Andrew lay in bed, quickly falling asleep. I, however, was restless, unable to find any peace. This house felt increasingly unsafe. I refused to hand Lily over to Margaret while I went back to work; they would surely become anxious and might do something reckless. I decided I would take Lily back to my parents’ house in the morning. Just then, I heard soft footsteps at the door. I have always had keen hearing, which allowed me to pick it up. A chill ran down my spine, and I quickly closed my eyes, gripping my phone tightly in one hand while holding Lily securely in the other. With a soft creak, the bedroom door slowly opened.

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I was bullied for three years, living in darkness. To escape this hell, I chose to climb into my bully’s bed, doing everything I could to please him, just to earn a bit of pity. Then, I sent him to prison myself. My relationship with Ethan Miller began when I shamelessly broke into his apartment. I lay on his bed, pulling the covers over myself when I heard the door open. As he walked into the bedroom, I could sense his footsteps and breath falter for a moment. When he lifted the covers, he saw me. I glanced at him, waiting for him to come closer, but he just stood there, looking at me. He lit a cigarette, coldly flicked the ash onto me, and raised an eyebrow, sneering, “Lia Parker, how desperate are you? Aren’t you just here for business? Get the hell off my bed right now! You’re filthy.” I wiped off the ash and sat up, using every ounce of my strength to appear seductive: “Say what you want. Even if you think that, I won’t take a cent from you. You can do whatever you want.” He slapped me hard across the face, turning my head to the side. “Whatever I want? How about this?” My cheek burned with pain, but I still smiled coyly: “Of course, today I’ll do whatever you say.” He gripped my arm and cursed, “You’re disgusting, just like everyone says.” Yes, I thought, I do feel utterly disgusting right now. But I still tried my best to charm him. Afterward, with a cigarette in one hand and the other wrapped around me, I could tell he was satisfied with my performance. He blew smoke in my face: “What’s your price?” I swallowed my nausea and giggled in response: “I don’t want your money.” “Oh really?” He grabbed my hair, “You’re making me happy, so how about you stick with me from now on?” I tilted my head back to lessen the pain from my hair being pulled: “I’m telling you, I’m nothing like the rumors. Do you believe me?” He laughed mockingly: “Don’t play coy with me. Who have you been with before?” “Ha, if I said I didn’t even know, would you believe that?” This was the start of my relationship with Ethan Miller, but it wasn’t my first time doing something like this. Who were the others before him? I truly didn’t know. It was as if I didn’t know what I did wrong that led my life to this point, deeply mired in a quagmire, unable to escape.

Ethan Miller wasn’t joking. He saved my contact information, and from then on, he’d reach out to me every few days. No matter what I was doing, I would drop everything to be there. I had to seize every opportunity. Every time I left his apartment, I walked away without taking a dime and without a word. After a while, one day he suddenly pulled me into his arms and curiously asked, “Just last night, a buddy of mine saw you at the cafeteria’s charity line, grabbing those two-dollar meals and drinking free soup. Is that even food? Not even fit for pigs! You’re so broke you can’t afford a meal, and you act like you’re above it all? Don’t you feel even a little tempted by this money? Not a cent? I don’t believe it!” I looked up at him in his arms, my gaze sincere: “I’m not after your money, so I won’t take a cent.” That wasn’t a lie; I didn’t seek him out for money. He smirked, scrutinizing me: “Then why are you so eager to find me? You think I’m handsome?” He had a decent face, but his soul was rotten. I wasn’t interested. Seeing me silent, he added, “Don’t say it’s because you love me. I don’t buy that. If you’re going to say that, you might as well leave.” I placed my hand on his chest: “I wasn’t going to say that. Ethan, you asked, so I had to be honest. My sister really likes you, and I just enjoy stealing what my sister likes. How does that sound? Are you satisfied?” He looked a bit bewildered: “Your sister? Who?” “Sophie Parker.” He burst into laughter: “That clingy one?” I nodded. To him, Sophie Parker was a pathetic clingy girl, but in my world, she was the culprit behind my ruined life. He pressed my head into his chest and rubbed it roughly until I felt suffocated: “You like stealing things? So I’ve become a thing now? Fine! But Lia, let me tell you, I’m not a stingy person. You don’t want money? I’ll give you something else. From now on, I’ll protect you, and Sophie will never bully you again.” That was exactly what I wanted to hear.

Sophie Parker had bullied me for four whole years. I spent three years of high school under her shadow and couldn’t shake her off in college either. Thanks to Sophie, rumors about me spread at the start of freshman year, and everyone thought I was loose. Shortly after school started, she brought a gang of friends to beat me up and humiliate me in the dance studio while Ethan stood by and watched. He was also one of the bullies. But when I looked up, he saw my face. I had known since childhood that I wasn’t bad-looking. It was precisely because I was somewhat pretty that I endured some dirty malice. Some men think pretty women are just there for sale; no one cares if the rumors are true. They just enjoy humiliating beautiful girls they can’t have. Ethan stared at my face for a while, then waved his hand impatiently: “Enough, enough. I’m tired of watching this; let her have a way out.” No one dared to defy him, not even Sophie, who reluctantly let go. So, I was saved. Then he came up to me, grabbed my hair, and forced me to lift my face: “You’re quite pretty. What’s your price?” Everyone laughed, and someone pointed at me, saying serving Ethan was a privilege; I should be grateful and thank him. Ethan was a player, switching girlfriends more often than changing clothes. With his father on the board of trustees, he spent his time drinking, fighting, and racing, living life to the fullest. His family was wealthy and influential, and I heard he had gotten into serious trouble before, once pushing someone off the sixth floor, leaving them paralyzed, and even robbing girls walking alone at night, but his family always bailed him out. When he said that, I realized he wasn’t showing mercy; he was just attracted to my looks. What a rotten person. He didn’t want to save me. He was merely lusting after me and wanted to humiliate me. That fleeting moment of desire became the root of my tragic life. I hated him. But at least, at this moment, I would still do everything I could to please him. I fell into the abyss because of him, but I would also use him to climb back up.

To be honest, my life at school was anything but normal. My family was wealthy, but I received no allowance from them. My tuition was covered by student loans, and I survived on work-study jobs and part-time work. From Monday to Friday, I stood at the cafeteria’s oil-poured noodle window for an hour and a half each day, earning five hundred dollars a month plus one free meal. On weekends, I tutored and handed out flyers to earn some meager pocket money. After Ethan took me under his wing, I neglected my weekend jobs to deal with him, significantly reducing my income. Aside from working, I dedicated all my time to studying, sleeping only five and a half hours a night. It was tough, but I relished it. I was planning to apply for a study abroad program in South Korea, which was funded, and only the best students could get this opportunity. I wanted to leave this place, so I had to seize this chance. While working at the noodle window, I wore a mask and a hat, covering myself up so those who bullied me wouldn’t recognize me. But honestly, even if they did, it shouldn’t matter. Ethan said he’d protect me, and I guessed he told Sophie something because she had been quiet for a long time. She and her gang hadn’t bothered me in ages. That afternoon, there weren’t many people, it was the peak of summer, and the heat in the kitchen was suffocating. I couldn’t stand it anymore and secretly took off my mask for a moment. In just those few minutes, I was recognized by Sophie’s lackey, Hannah Smith. Hannah came up to the window to stir trouble, pointing at me and mockingly shouting that no one would dare eat what a “chicken” had touched, drawing the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. I watched through the glass as people whispered and pointed—“Huh? Is that really Lia Parker? I heard she’s pretty. What’s she doing here? Is she sick?”—male and female voices overlapping and blending, drowning me in a sea of chatter. Those voices felt vivid, yet they seemed like meaningless symbols flowing past my ears. I was used to it. I didn’t care. Suddenly, a soda bottle came flying toward Hannah, hitting her squarely in the head, and she stumbled to the ground. Everyone turned to look, and Ethan came over. I knew he never ate cafeteria food, so I felt safe working there. I had no idea why he was here today. I figured Hannah thought Ethan wouldn’t show up, so she dared to cause trouble, probably intending to brag to Sophie later. As Hannah tried to get up, Ethan didn’t care that she was a girl. He stepped on her head and ground his shoe against her hand, listening to her wail in pain. He looked around menacingly, threatening her and everyone present: “What the hell did you just say? Take those words back! If I hear anyone talking about her again, they’ll regret it. If you don’t want to lose an arm or a leg or not graduate, just try it. By the way, tell Sophie Parker I’m protecting Lia. Don’t think you can get away with bullying her just because I’m not around; you’re going to cross me if you do, got it?” Ethan lifted his foot, and Hannah nodded, crawling away in a hurry. He walked up to the window and knocked on the glass: “Come outside with me.” “I’m not off work yet.” He rolled his eyes: “Then give me a plate of noodles.” I quickly cooked up a serving of noodles and handed it to him. He took the takeout and leaned closer to the window: “Come find me when you’re done.” I nodded, and he turned to leave. As soon as he was gone, the boss patted me on the shoulder, looking conflicted, and told me not to come back anymore; he would settle my pay. Well, after all that, who would still dare to employ me? Now my life was going to get even tougher. So, I took off my uniform and stepped outside. People in the cafeteria would still sneak glances at me, but no one dared to discuss me anymore. I exited the cafeteria and found Ethan not heading home but sitting on the steps smoking, still holding the takeout of noodles. I reached out my hand: “Give it to me; I’ll throw it away.” “Why throw it away?” He looked up at me, “I haven’t eaten yet.” “Aren’t you the one who never eats cafeteria food?” “I haven’t, but I wanted to try something new.” He extinguished his cigarette, stood up, and started walking toward the school gate. “What the hell are you doing? My friends told me you were working at the cafeteria, and I didn’t believe it. But here you are! Even if you covered yourself up, I still recognized you. I give you so much money, and you refuse it, happily working here as cheap labor, huh? What exactly are you after?” I smiled: “I’ve said I don’t want your money, but I have to live. My family doesn’t give me any money, so how can I afford to eat without working?” He seemed surprised: “Sophie Parker is your sister; her family is your family, right? Your family is wealthy, so how come she lives so well while you have nothing? Is this all you live on?” “Now I don’t even have this; the boss fired me.” I didn’t want to cry. I thought I was strong enough, but at that moment, tears flowed uncontrollably. I wasn’t just upset about the five hundred dollars; I was worried that as soon as I got my life on track, Sophie and her friends would pounce, leaving me with nothing. Despair. True despair. But how could Ethan like a crying woman? So, I wiped my tears, crying and laughing at the same time. He wiped my face roughly: “What are you crying about? How much is a plate of noodles worth? Three hundred? Five hundred? I’ll give you ten times that! Stick with me, and you can have whatever you want!” He waved the takeout of noodles, “Haven’t you skipped lunch too? Why not eat this?” I paused for a moment: “… I worked there for two and a half months, eating this every day for free. I’m sick of it; just the sight of noodles makes me nauseous.” He stared at me for a while, then burst out laughing, pulling me into a small restaurant he often frequented, ordering an entire feast. I shamelessly devoured everything. This was the most sumptuous meal I’d had since starting college. I couldn’t possibly eat that much, but I still stuffed my face. Eating filled my brain with dopamine, bringing me joy, and my mind would remember that feeling. I just wanted to seek a little happiness in my muddy life. Even if it was just a bit.

Although I lost my job at the noodle window, after Ethan’s scene in the cafeteria, no one dared to bully me again, nor did they dare to gossip—at least not in front of me. Ethan insisted I take his money. He pointed at my face and cursed, “Lia Parker, what the hell is with that inexplicable pride? Just come live with me; I’ll take care of you.” So I moved into his place, avoiding those roommates who isolated me, which wasn’t bad. Everyone knew we were living together, but whether to me or outsiders, he never referred to me as his girlfriend. He often wasn’t home, out partying with friends and probably getting involved with other women. But I didn’t mind. He didn’t come home but hired a maid to cook three meals a day for me. My food and accommodation were taken care of, so whether or not I worked didn’t matter. On days he was gone, I could use more time to study. One day, he surprisingly came home early. I was wearing headphones and didn’t hear him come in. He walked up behind me and tapped my shoulder, startling me. I turned around, and he picked up my book, glanced at it, then threw it back, smacking his lips: “You’re still studying? A good student? How did a good student end up here?” I remained silent as he closed my book and forcefully pulled me up: “What’s there to study? Come on, let’s go out and have fun.” I had no room to resist and had to follow him out. At that moment, I wondered if he really couldn’t stand seeing others studying or if he just wanted me to struggle in the mud for the rest of my life. I couldn’t figure it out, and it didn’t matter; I would definitely secure that opportunity to study abroad and leave here. He took me to a billiards hall where a group of his friends were. When they saw me, their gazes were curious, but no one dared to say anything. I didn’t know how to play billiards, so I just watched. At the nearby table, a tall guy was playing poorly, swinging too hard and missing the shot. In frustration, he hit the ball too hard, and it flew out, hitting Ethan. Ethan picked up the ball, clenching it in his hand, tilting his head, and exhaled smoke, giving him a sideways glance: “You looking for trouble?” The guy didn’t seem to be a student from our school and didn’t know Ethan’s notorious reputation. He boldly challenged, “Don’t look at me like that! Who do you think you are?” I can only say that many times, the so-called bravado of men seems so childish, at least in my eyes. They exchanged punches, and I couldn’t tell who started it first, but they began to fight. I stepped back, keeping my distance; no one came looking for trouble with a woman. The billiards hall owner hurriedly called the police. They were at each other’s throats, determined to fight until one of them was seriously injured. Ethan wielded that billiard ball as his weapon; it was heavy, and he never shied away from causing harm, aiming for the head. But then the other guy pulled out a switchblade. It was small and fast, and they were too close to realize what was happening. But I watched from the sidelines with clarity. In that moment, my only thought was that this was my chance. I dashed forward and shoved Ethan aside, and the switchblade stabbed into my body, the blade embedding itself beneath my skin. It hurt—badly. The blood was warm, and no matter how hard I pressed, it wouldn’t stop. My vision blurred with the flowing blood, as if my soul were leaking out with it. Ethan picked me up and rushed me out of the billiards hall, taking me to the hospital. I had gambled too much this time. That stab could have killed me; if I had been even a moment later getting to the hospital, I would be dead. I survived, but I had to stay in the hospital. Ethan bought a ton of dishes from that small restaurant for me, but I had no appetite and couldn’t eat a thing. He stayed with me in the hospital, pacing around, lighting a cigarette but not daring to smoke. So I told him he didn’t need to stay; I was fine. He tossed the cigarette and sat back down, saying he’d wait until I fell asleep before leaving. I didn’t say anything, letting him do as he pleased. He fell silent for a while before suddenly calling my name: “Lia Parker.” “Hmm?” “Why?” “Why what?” “Don’t play dumb. Why did you take that knife for me? Can’t you see that guy was ready to kill?” I held back the pain and forced a smile: “Because I realized that’s why I had to block it.” “If you don’t want to laugh, then don’t. I know you don’t smile that much.” After he said this, he suddenly grabbed my chin, staring intently at me, before saying after a moment, “Are you really falling for me?” “Not at all.” I remembered he had said before not to say anything about loving him; he didn’t buy it, and if I did, I could prepare to leave. So, I chose to speak the truth: “If you died, no one would protect me, so I can’t let you die.” He stared at me for a long time before suddenly laughing, releasing my chin: “Alright, you say what goes.” He unconsciously reached for a cigarette but caught himself, realizing I was recovering, pulling his hand back awkwardly. I pointed to the window: “You can smoke there; that spot won’t trigger the fire alarm and won’t choke me.” He ran to the window as if granted mercy, and I had never seen him look so eager. He lit the cigarette and took a deep breath: “I have a lot of friends who do drugs, but I never touch them. You know why?” I shook my head. “Just trying to quit smoking is harder than dying. Quitting drugs must be even harder, right? I know it’s not good, so I just stay away from it.” He smoked while watching me, his gaze lingering longer than before. “I started smoking at thirteen, and I still can’t quit. You can see how I am now; no one ever cares, as long as I don’t die. I could make the biggest fuss, and it wouldn’t draw a bit of their attention.” I stayed silent. I felt he didn’t need me to talk; he just wanted to express himself. “No one cares about me, and no one loves me. What do they say? Home is the last refuge? There’s no one in my home! It’s abandoned! Might as well tear it down!” He spoke and laughed, laughing wildly. And it felt so desolate. “I don’t have any true friends; they all want my money, being my sycophants, either fearing me or flattering me. “I’ll tell you, back in high school, I liked a girl a lot and spent a ton of money on her without even sleeping with her. She said she loved me. Looking back, it was a total loss. “Later, I spent all my savings, pocket money, and New Year’s money, saving up for a set of six-figure jewelry to give her because she said she loved me. I thought if you love me, anything is worth it. But when I ran out of money, I couldn’t take her out to eat. So, I wanted to tease her and said my family went bankrupt and that I was broke. “She left me on read for a week and then broke up with me. “I gave that jewelry to her deskmate in front of her. I didn’t even know her deskmate, and I’ve forgotten what she looked like; I just remember she was a plump girl. Her face looked terrible; she must have regretted it so much, and I still find it hilarious to think about. “For a long time after that, I wondered, you see, my family doesn’t love me for money, and people outside only love me for my money. What the hell is money?” He went on and on about how his parents neglected him and how people he met outside sought benefits from him, spilling out years of pent-up dissatisfaction. In that moment, thinking back to his earlier question about whether I had fallen for him, I suddenly realized.

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The year my sister went to college, she died in a hotel bed. They said she was promiscuous, that she died from her reckless behavior. But I knew that wasn’t true. Ethan Coleman’s childhood sweetheart got mad at him, so he pursued my sister on purpose. Ava Caldwell, in a jealous rage, had people bully my sister. “Ethan says she’s got a great body. As his friends, why don’t you check for yourselves?” Eight years later, I became Ethan’s favorite little pet. I don’t cry, I don’t make a fuss, I’m obedient and quiet. Then one day, Ava poured a cup of hot tea over my head, smirking as she said: “You’re just a knock-off. Ethan’s only playing with you.” “He loves me. You need to remember your place. Understand?” But the truth is, I never wanted his love. What I want is both of your lives. The day Ava returned from overseas, Ethan filled the whole city with pink balloons to celebrate her. And once again, people started mocking my relationship with him. “The leading lady is back! Isn’t it time for Daisy Greene, this knock-off, to roll out?” “Hah, that’s the fate of someone who’s just cannon fodder.” “She deserves it. She threw herself at him like a cheap piece of trash.” I sat on the couch, scrolling through the messages in the group chat before I turned off my phone. “Are you upset?” Ethan, sitting beside me, absentmindedly played with my hand as he spoke in his usual calm tone. I shook my head and leaned softly against his chest, my voice gentle. “They’re right. I know my place. But I can’t help feeling a little sad, you know? Still, the fact that you came to see me before meeting Miss Caldwell makes me not care about anything else.” He lifted his hand, brushing my cheek before pinching my chin like he was teasing a cat. “Good girl.” “I won’t be coming back tonight, but I’ll have that watch you liked sent to you.” He stood up, ready to leave. Just as he opened the door, I ran up and hugged him from behind, my eyes filled with tears. “I know you and Miss Caldwell have been childhood friends, and I’ll never compare to that.” “But, Ethan, please let me stay by your side.” “Don’t abandon me.” Warm tears soaked his shirt, spreading a damp patch over his shoulder. He paused for a moment, loosening his grip on the door handle before turning around. His large hand gently stroked my frail back. “Stop overthinking.” He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. I knew I was beautiful—especially with my red-rimmed eyes, so vulnerable and delicate. Sure enough, his gaze darkened. And just like that, I saw the lust in his eyes start to rise. Before I realized it, he had me pinned on the couch, his hands gripping my waist. His breath came quick with desire, and his actions were rough. When I cried out in pain, he silenced me with biting kisses. “Daisy Greene, as long as you behave, I’ll come see you tomorrow.” I rested my head on his shoulder, my voice raspy and barely coherent. “Okay… Just don’t lie to me.” I carefully dressed him, making sure he looked perfect before sending him off. A purple Rolls-Royce was already waiting outside the Coleman Mansion. The driver respectfully opened the door for him. With a roar, the car disappeared into the night. It was getting late. If he didn’t hurry, he’d miss Ava’s welcome-home party. She was the pampered daughter of the Caldwell family, and if Ethan showed up late, she’d be furious. Tears welled up as I walked back into the mansion, swallowing the pills Aunt Mary handed me in front of her watchful eyes. I climbed the stairs with my swollen eyes, locked the door behind me, and rushed into the bathroom. I collapsed in front of the toilet, vomiting until I thought I’d die. Disgusting. Every second with Ethan disgusted me. Every touch of his was like a needle, pricking my already tattered dignity, reeking of fake luxury and rot. Just thinking about it made me want to throw up again. But I had to fight for his attention—kiss him, please him, and act like I adored him. He needed to believe that I was completely dependent on him, that I loved him with all my heart, and that without him, I’d wilt like a delicate flower. Then, when he was most relaxed, enjoying his empire built on manipulation and control, I would strike the fatal blow. Ethan Coleman, I will make you fall from grace, lose everything. You will crawl in the dirt and drown in your own hatred. By the time I was done vomiting, there was nothing left but stomach acid, burning my throat. I slid down the cold bathroom floor, leaning against the wall. The bright light above blurred into the tears in my eyes, distorting my vision. My head knocked against the wall as I started to sob. “I tried, sis… I really did. But there’s no other way.” “I’m so hungry… I miss your chicken broth soup, Joanne.”

My childhood wasn’t a happy one. From as far back as I can remember, my dad was a gambling, drunk, abusive piece of trash. When I was ten, he lost a huge sum of money. That night, he came home reeking of alcohol and barged through the door. My mom, trembling, pulled me into her arms. The next second, he yanked her by the hair, slamming her down on the concrete floor. He punched her face over and over. When he got tired, he kicked her. Afterwards, he took the last bit of money we had and wasted it all at the Riverboat Casino. My mom left in a red car that night. She never came back. Later, my dad would bring different women home and lock me out of the house. One night, I sat outside the door all night long. The next morning, no one even bothered to open the door when I had to go to school. I had no money and no friends. I survived by drinking water from the school bathroom sink. By the time school was out, I was so hungry I could barely see straight. A girl bumped into me as she ran by, and I nearly fainted. She caught me just in time, asking if I was okay. I was too hungry to lie, so I told her the truth. She smiled kindly, took my hand, and brought me to her house. I ate five bowls of chicken broth soup. And for some reason, I started crying. First silent tears, then I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. She fumbled around, trying to wipe my tears, thinking the soup was terrible. But I shook my head vigorously in her arms. “No one’s ever been this nice to me.” She smiled and ran her warm hand over my head. She didn’t care about my dry, matted hair, and said: “From now on, think of me as your sister. I’ll take care of you.” She really was an incredible person. That was the first time I met my sister, Joanne. Her name was as pure and beautiful as she was. Not like mine. My dad named me Daisy after a winning hand in a poker game. My mom thought it was after the flower. But Joanne said that my name was special. She told me, “Daisy, like the flower that never withers. It’s a sign of resilience.” That’s when I realized that even the simplest things, in the hands of someone who cared, could become poetic.

That night, I dreamt of my sister again. I dreamt about the time she worked extra hard to make my birthday special. It was scorching hot that summer, the pavement practically steaming under the sun. She wore a bulky mascot costume, handing out brochures to passersby. It gave her heat rash, but she told me it was just a dust allergy. Seventy dollars a day, and she did it for two months. Then, on my 14th birthday, she gave me 14 gifts. A newspaper from the day I was born, crayons from when I was two, a hairclip from when I was three… a Barbie from when I was seven… a bike from when I was ten, a keyboard from when I was eleven… and finally, a keychain with a key for my 14th birthday. I’d never had a birthday party before, and that day, I got to celebrate 14 birthdays all at once. Joanne’s mom even made a full table of food, with a two-tier cake in the middle. The warmth in the air wrapped around me, and I started crying again, overwhelmed by love. “Thank you, sis. Thank you, Mom.” Joanne’s mom, usually smiling, suddenly looked stern. “Why call her your sister and me by my name?” “Mom.” “Good girl, now blow out the candles and make a wish.” I closed my eyes, feeling the happiest I’d ever been. I made my wish with all my heart. I wasn’t a neglected child anymore. I had a family. But the joy in my dream soon twisted and warped. My sister was brought home on a stretcher, motionless. Her body was cold, covered in bruises, and she was already gone. They said, “Joanne had a wild lifestyle. She died from playing too hard with too many men. Her friends confessed.” Lies. All lies. They said they’d offer me compensation, out of “humanitarian concern.” But I couldn’t hear anything. My ears were filled with the buzzing of a thousand angry bees as I stared at my sister’s lifeless body. The sun mixed with the bloodstains on her skin, creating a grotesque blend of light and dark. “Sis…” Joanne didn’t die from playing around with men. She was in college, working hard to support herself. How could she have been involved with men, let alone with multiple men at the same time? It all started with Ethan’s childhood friend, Ava Caldwell. She was mad at him for some petty argument, and to make her jealous, Ethan had deliberately gone after my sister. He brought her flowers, gifts, breakfast. He showered her with compliments and sweet words. Joanne, never having experienced such attention, fell for it. She thought she had finally found true love. But Ava couldn’t take it. After she made up with Ethan, she ordered her friends to bully my sister. “If Ethan says she’s got a great body, why don’t you guys check it out for yourselves?” From the beginning to the bitter end, it was all handled by a lawyer. He had the look of a stiff academic, his glasses betraying his sharp, calculating eyes. He spoke with precision, like a surgeon, and acted with cold efficiency. We had no chance against the power and influence they wielded. Ethan and Ava never even showed their faces. After reconciling, they went on a romantic trip to see the Northern Lights in Iceland. How romantic. How absurd. Months later, I finally learned their names. Two rich kids—Ava Caldwell and Ethan Coleman. I had another dream—my mom’s hair turning white overnight. Empty pill bottles lay by the bedside as she slept in silence, forever. She had gone to join Joanne. My birthday wish had never come true, and I vowed never to celebrate another birthday.

I didn’t think I’d be facing Ava again so soon. But with her entitled attitude, there was no way she would let things slide. She had only been gone for three years, but in that time, Ethan had found someone new—me. So the very next day, Ava invited us to a high-end boutique to try on clothes. Of course, Ethan brought me along. The fitting room was enormous, luxurious, and completely private. Ava sat at the center of it all, wearing a sleek black designer outfit, sipping tea like the queen bee. Her entourage buzzed around her. She glanced up at me, her disdain obvious, and suddenly smirked. “Ethan, so this is the little pet you’ve been keeping, huh?” “She does look a bit like me, I guess.” Her friends chimed in with laughter. “No matter how much she imitates you, she’ll never come close to even a finger of yours.” My hand clenched at my side. I lowered my head and suddenly realized. Ethan had brought me here to let Ava take out her frustrations on me. With his passive approval, everyone around me treated me like trash, eagerly assisting Ava in her cruel game. “Well, since you’re here, why don’t you try on some clothes?” Ethan, sitting beside Ava, spoke casually. “Go ahead, try them all on until Ava is satisfied.” I spent the entire afternoon walking in circles, changing into outfit after outfit, while wearing a pair of towering high heels. “Just standing there doesn’t help. Walk around so we can see how the clothes look.” “Exactly! And strike a few poses! Are you really that stupid?” They sat on the couches, sipping their fancy tea, directing me like I was a mannequin. The heels dug into my feet, blistering my heels until they bled and stuck to the insides of the shoes. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and it felt like my legs were no longer mine to control. Finally, Ava seemed to be satisfied, her anger fading. “These beautiful clothes are wasted on someone like you.” “I don’t want any of the pieces she’s worn. Pack up the rest.” She leaned against Ethan’s chest, playfully poking him in the chest like a spoiled child. The normally cold and indifferent man smiled indulgently, letting her have her way. “Go clean yourself up and remember your place.” I clutched the neckline of my slipping dress and bowed before quickly heading out. I stumbled, falling to the floor. My eyes instinctively sought out Ethan, and tears fell without warning. I looked as pitiful as possible. Ethan’s gaze drifted toward me, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. I noticed. And so did Ava. With a sweet, mocking smile, Ava sauntered over to me. “You’re crying over trying on a few clothes? I didn’t know you were such an actress.” The next second, I felt a burning pain on my scalp. Ava had poured the entire cup of hot tea over my head. She casually placed the cup down and pouted at Ethan. “Ethan, you know how much I hate manipulative girls. I just couldn’t resist teaching her a lesson.” “Don’t be mad, okay?” Ethan stood up and wrapped his arm around her waist, his eyes full of affection. “As long as it makes you happy.” The group of them laughed as they left, not giving me a second glance. Leaving me all alone.

That night, for once, Ethan didn’t stay with Ava. Instead, he came to me. I heard the sound of the gate outside and lay on the couch pretending to sleep. Ethan walked in, scooping me up in his arms. I “woke up” at just the right moment, my voice hoarse from pretending to cry. “I’m sorry… I’m so useless. I know you love Miss Caldwell the most, but I couldn’t even handle something as simple as trying on clothes for her.” “If Miss Caldwell is still mad, I can move out…” Before I could finish, everything spun. He had thrown me onto the bed, grabbing my wrist as he leaned over me. “You want to leave?” I lowered my lashes, biting my lip, my eyes reddening involuntarily. After a long moment, I finally whispered, “Yes.” Ethan chuckled, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, and grabbed my chin roughly. “Daisy Greene, you’ve grown bold.” “In this world, no one tells Ethan Coleman what to do.” “Remember, if I don’t let you go, you’re not leaving.” A flood of thoughts rushed through my mind in that instant. Tears streamed down my face. Ethan gently brushed my hair aside, blowing softly on the burned spot from Ava’s tea. For the first time, his usual detached demeanor softened. It was the first time I’d ever seen him like this—so gentle.

The burn on my scalp continued to throb with a dull pain, making it hard for me to sleep. In my dreams, I was taken back to a time long ago. It was when I was thirteen, and my dad suddenly started acting nice to me. For the first time in forever, he invited me to sit at the dinner table and even put a few pieces of meat in my bowl. “Daisy, how about you ask Joanne’s mom to become your new mother?” I choked on my food, almost suffocating in shock. So that was it. He had his eye on Joanne’s mom, Sarah Greene. He knew how well they treated me, so he wanted me to play matchmaker for him. When I refused, he kicked me away from the table, taking the meat from my bowl and eating it himself. I thought he was just running his mouth. The next day, though, he went to Sarah’s stand at the farmers market and loudly declared his love for her. Of course, Sarah didn’t accept. My dad, humiliated, got furious. He started spreading rumors, saying Sarah was cursed, that she was responsible for her husband’s death. The gossip spread from the market to every street corner in town. “Why would you say such things about Sarah? Now she’s too ashamed to run her stand,” I yelled at him. He smirked, slurring his words, “Who does she think she is, turning me down? I didn’t even care that she’s a widow.” I couldn’t hold back anymore. I screamed at him. “You’re despicable!” He stood up and beat me, again and again. When he was done, he kicked me and demanded food. I got up, made him a bowl of noodles, and dumped five tablespoons of salt into it. He ate the whole thing, complimenting me on how much my cooking had improved. The booze had clearly wrecked his taste buds. For a while after that, Joanne kept coming to check on me. I avoided her, ashamed, but she cornered me after school one day. “Are you trying to break up with me?” she asked, frowning. I froze. Then, as if suddenly realizing the absurdity of it all, she pinched my cheeks and said, “Daisy, you’re my sister. Why would I break up with you?” I had put on a bit of weight from all the meals at their house, and she pinched my face a little more. “You’re you, and you don’t need to carry anyone else’s guilt.” I hugged her tight, crying until I noticed the wounds on her hands. She said she’d hurt herself while making homemade cheese, but it didn’t hurt anymore. I held her hand, feeling a pang of sorrow. She brought me back to their house. Sarah was in the kitchen, her smile warm as always when she saw me. “Dinner’s almost ready. You two, go wash your hands.” That evening, the sunset painted the sky in a fiery orange, and the warmth in the dining room felt so comforting. Not long after that, my dad, drunk as usual, fell into the river and drowned. That left me alone. He had been such a notorious scumbag that the rest of the family had cut ties with us long ago. Sarah was the one who arranged his funeral. Once it was all over, Joanne and Sarah held my hands and gave me a real home. I had my own room, fresh sheets, and a brand-new desk. For the first time, I thought this might last forever.

Ava started taking over her family’s company. She used the excuse that she was still unfamiliar with the local market after being abroad for so long. So, Ethan sent me to work as her assistant. That’s when she began her campaign against me, making sure to humiliate and isolate me. Her methods were childish and petty, but relentless. Every time I needed to use the printer, it was out of paper or ink. In the break room, someone would “accidentally” spill coffee on me. My computer would mysteriously get viruses, and completed presentations had to be redone. Ethan’s response? “Just keep trying.” I told him I would, then hung up, not wanting to bother him while he was out with Ava. But then she went too far. During a business dinner with some clients from Hong Kong, Ava called my co-worker away, leaving me alone. The clients poured me drink after drink until I was barely conscious. One of their hands started creeping up my leg. I fought back with everything I had, but they beat me half to death. A waiter heard the commotion and called the police. I woke up two days later in a hospital room, the sharp smell of disinfectant in the air. During that time, someone had posted a video of me being carried into the ambulance online. The person who posted it claimed that Ava had deliberately left me there. The video went viral in no time. Ava’s family was competing with a rival company for a big project, and this scandal hit them hard. When I finally woke up, I heard Ethan and Ava arguing in the hallway outside my room. “Ava, you went too far this time,” Ethan’s voice was cold, harsher than I’d ever heard. “I’ve let you do whatever you wanted since we were kids, but this could’ve killed her.” Ava’s voice cracked with tears. “You feel sorry for her now?” “She’s just a fake, a knock-off. If she’s gone, she’s gone. It’s not like this is the first time someone’s died.” Ethan’s tone grew even icier. “You can’t keep doing whatever you want. You need to rein in that temper.” Ava was stunned by his words. “Ethan, are you saying you’re tired of me now? What did I do wrong? Before I left the country, you said you’d wait for me.” Tears fell from her eyes as she spoke. “I was only gone for three years, and you’ve already replaced me with someone beneath us. I can’t stand her.” “The things people have been saying about me these last two days, I know you’ve seen it.” “Are you telling me you’d rather see me lying in that hospital bed?” Her face, usually so bold and beautiful, was now tear-streaked and fragile, full of vulnerability and sadness. And Ethan, who had known her since childhood, was affected. After a moment of silence, he sighed and pulled her into his arms. “All these years, I’ve only ever loved you.”

I watched them through the crack in the door as they kissed. Then I turned my head away, expressionless. I’d known for a long time that Ava wouldn’t be easy to defeat. She and Ethan had over two decades of history together, a bond so close it was almost symbiotic. But that bond wasn’t unbreakable. Now, I had planted a seed in both of them—my pain, my suffering. One day, that seed would grow into an explosion, and when it did, nothing would ever be the same. When I woke up the next day, the public opinion had shifted again. A new video had surfaced. This time, it was a statement from my co-worker and the waiter. The story they told? That I had lured my colleague away and then tried to seduce the client myself. When the client rejected me, I insulted him, which led to me getting beaten. The internet blew up with hate. Everyone was condemning me. When Ethan visited me that day, he didn’t say a word about it. I acted like nothing was wrong, chatting with him like usual. Sometimes, I’d tug on his sleeve and make small, harmless requests, doing everything I could to keep things normal. Then, the next day, a woman barged into the hospital room with a group of people—clients’ wife. They slapped and hit me while yelling accusations. Ethan arrived, only to find me huddled in the corner of the bed, curled up into a small ball.

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After my brother, Ethan, found out that I was a fake heiress, I tied his hands to the chair and forced his jaw open, pouring poison down his throat. I smirked softly. “Soon, the pain will go away, Ethan…” The chat exploded: “Oh my God, when will this vile woman finally get off the screen? Someone save my poor boy, I can’t take this heartbreak anymore!” I was bound to the Knife System, where only by tormenting the readers until their hearts ache could I replenish my health bar. At this moment, I was secretly laying another trap, waiting for the readers to piece together the blade, to harvest a massive wave of health points… After Ethan discovered that I wasn’t the real daughter of the Snow family, I bound his hands and forced him into the chair, prying his mouth open to pour in the poison. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes, slipping down his pale cheeks. He struggled to speak, “Sis… Sister…” I stared coldly as his porcelain-like skin began to fester and decay. In front of me, in the void, the chat went wild: “Ahhh, I can’t take it anymore! How can my poor, sweet Ethan still call her sister when she’s literally poisoning him? Someone send this wicked woman straight to the pits of hell!” “When will this vile woman leave? Please, someone save my poor boy! My heart can’t take this anymore!” Without another glance, I turned away, leaving Ethan writhing in agony. His body convulsed, but he barely had the strength to make a sound. I smirked again. “Soon, you won’t feel anything, Ethan…” I turned, cold and detached, and walked away. Just as I reached the door, I made sure to let the readers see that I wasn’t as calm as I appeared. My fingers trembled as they fumbled to unlock the door. “Oh, now she’s panicking, huh? If you’re so scared, why don’t you call an ambulance for my boy? Maybe then you can at least die a little more peacefully!” I was pleased: excellent, the first piece of the knife was set. Soon, all these small blades would form a deadly sword, and I’d harvest a huge amount of health points. I was bound to the Knife System—only by making the readers’ hearts ache could I replenish my health bar. Sitting in my car, I pulled out a file, making sure to let just a corner of it show, enough for the readers to catch sight of it. “What is that wicked woman holding? Did I just see Ethan’s name on it? And… is that a DNA test?” “Wait, what? Shouldn’t her name be on it? Isn’t she supposed to be Grace Snow?” I smirked inwardly. Time for the second piece of the knife. I slammed on the gas, and the car sped away. Behind me, flames engulfed the beach house… As the chat went wild with speculation, the system chimed: “Ding, you’ve collected 30% of your health points.”

Three years later. It was late at night, and I was in my lab, working on a new poison that had come to me in a sudden burst of inspiration. The Snow family was well-known in the medical field in the United States, but I had a preference for crafting ancient poisons. Things like the Laughing Death Poison, One-Day-Kill Powder, and the infamous Five-Poison Dust—I knew them all. Suddenly, my phone rang. “Hello, is this Grace? Daniel had too much to drink, and you’re listed as his emergency contact. Could you come pick him up?” I sighed, setting down the glass vial. “Alright, where are you?” Ten minutes later, I was standing outside the private club lounge. As soon as I walked in, Daniel, thoroughly drunk, waved at me excitedly. “Grace! You’re here! Come, I’ve got someone I want you to meet. He’s the eldest son of the Song family—just back from overseas!” I smiled as I turned to greet this new acquaintance. But when my eyes met those familiar, cold eyes, my purse slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a thud. “I’m sorry,” I quickly knelt down, using the moment to cover my panic. It was him… Even though his face had changed, I recognized him instantly. The one person I thought I’d never see again—my brother. The one whose picture had been on a gravestone for the past three years. Everyone believed he had died in a tragic accident… my brother, Ethan. “Grace, you’re always so clumsy.” Daniel staggered over to help me pick up the lipstick that had rolled out of my purse. As he stood up, he almost lost his balance. I quickly steadied him, but at that moment, I heard a low chuckle from behind me. I couldn’t help but turn, briefly locking eyes with that same cold gaze. In the past… Those eyes had been like a clear mountain stream, so pure, so gentle. He always used to call out to me with that dependent tone: “Sister! Sister!” “Sis, you’re back! I missed you so much!” I looked down, hiding the tears welling up in my eyes from the readers’ view, my lips moving in silence. The chat exploded with comments: “Ha! Grace must be shaking in her boots! My boy has come back, and her days are numbered. I can’t wait to see how he’s going to make her pay!” “Oh my God, I can read lips! Did she just say ‘Ethan, I missed you too’?! What the hell?!

After a brief introduction, the others left, until only Daniel—who passed out three minutes later—and Ryan remained. I pretended not to recognize Ryan as I grabbed Daniel by the arm and tried to drag him out of the lounge. But suddenly, Ryan grabbed my wrist, throwing me onto the couch with a force that knocked the breath out of me. Meanwhile, Daniel crashed to the floor, completely undisturbed in his drunken slumber. I gasped in shock. “Ryan, what are you doing?!” Ryan sneered, gripping my face tightly. “Grace, my dearest sister, do you really not recognize me? I’m Ethan, the brother you poisoned.” “Surprised? I didn’t die. My face didn’t rot away. And now, I’m the esteemed Ryan Song of the Song family!” He leaned in closer, his grip tightening. “Now, your precious Snow family is nothing more than a dog groveling at my feet. If I’m feeling generous, I might toss them a bone. If not…” His hand squeezed harder. “I’ll destroy them.” Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain. I could see the hatred burning behind his calm expression. Struggling to speak, I whispered, “Please… for old times’ sake… spare the Snow family…” Ryan laughed coldly. “Didn’t you poison me because you didn’t want our parents to find out you weren’t their real daughter? You were afraid of losing your place.” “Well, let’s see what happens when they get to make the choice themselves—will they choose wealth and status, or you?” He stood up, pulling out a wet wipe to clean his hands before tossing it onto me. As he reached the door, he turned and shot me a cruel smile. “Enjoy your last peaceful night.” By the next morning, my parents had handed me over to Ryan without a second thought. With forced smiles, they left me with one last remark: “Grace was out of line for offending you, Ryan. Whatever punishment you deem fit, go ahead!” A maid’s uniform was tossed at me. Ryan grinned darkly. “Put this on. From now on, you’re my maid.” When I emerged, humiliated, in the maid uniform, Ryan’s eyes lingered on me before he ordered, “Clean every inch of this house until there’s not a speck of dust.” I obediently grabbed a cloth and bucket, getting down on my knees to scrub the floor. Two hours later. A pair of slippers appeared in front of me, and Ryan kicked me in the side, grumbling, “Why are you so slow?” The bucket tipped over, spilling dirty water all over me. “Disgusting,” Ryan said, his voice full of disdain. “Now, I’m starving. Make me a steak, roasted duck, an egg tart, and… oh, throw in some spicy noodles.” He rattled off a long list of dishes. I nodded, without a hint of complaint. “Got it.” Just then, the system switched to a first-person perspective, capturing my thoughts: “I’m sorry, Ethan. If doing all this can ease even a fraction of your anger, I’ll gladly do it. I only hope the poison will leave your system soon…” In return, the readers unleashed a torrent of insults: “Ugh, now she regrets it? Too little, too late! The only way to make up for it is to die!” “She’s talking about curing his poison—does she even have the antidote?” “But Ethan’s fine now! The doctors said so. Why is she still pretending? Where’s my sweet, soft-hearted heroine? I’m sick of looking at this woman!” Ryan, watching me soak in dirty water, seemed irritated and walked off. 4 After spending three hours in the kitchen, I prepared a banquet that mixed Western and Eastern dishes. I knocked on the door to let Ryan know. The door opened, and a stunning woman appeared, her eyes challenging as she smiled at me. “Ryan’s in the shower. You can wait, little maid.” I lowered my eyes and nodded. “Alright.” I headed downstairs, where I waited for Ryan to emerge, wrapped in a bathrobe, his arm around the woman’s waist as they came to the table. Suddenly, Ryan slammed his chopsticks down and glared at me. “What are you standing there for? Get over here and serve us. Peel the shrimp, and make sure there are no bones in the fish. If Monica gets hurt, it’s your head.” Monica feigned concern. “Oh, Ryan, why are you being so harsh? Grace must be hungry too. Shouldn’t we invite her to eat with us?” Ryan sneered. “The dog and the maid don’t get to sit at the table. They can eat our leftovers.” Without a word, I walked over and began peeling the shrimp, silently enduring the humiliation. After dinner, Ryan scraped the leftovers into two bowls. One, he set down for his dog, and the other, he placed beside the dog’s bed. He called out to me, “From now on, this is where you’ll eat.” A single tear slipped down my face, but when I looked up, my expression was empty. “Understood.” Ryan lost interest immediately, scoffing. “Just like I thought, no feelings at all—just a stone.” Then, he wrapped his arm around Monica and headed for the door. “Didn’t you say there’s a new handbag you want? Let’s go get it.” “You’re the best, Ryan!” Monica squealed, planting a kiss on his cheek. I looked away in discomfort, but I made sure Ryan caught the flicker of pain in my expression. Seeing that I was hurt, Ryan’s face lit up with twisted satisfaction. He lifted Monica into his arms, heading out the door, but not before tossing one last line over his shoulder: “I’m not coming back tonight.” I couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly. Who even wants you back? The days blurred together after that. Mopping floors, spilling dirty water, cooking meals, and watching Ryan and Monica’s public displays of affection were the repetitive cycle of my new life. It was dull, predictable. “These small tricks aren’t even enough to satisfy me.” Still, some readers began to feel sympathy for me, and my health bar rose by 10%. Until one day. I received a message from Daniel. A smile tugged at my lips, excitement gleaming in my eyes: Finally, the real show is about to begin…

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After Grandma Betty secretly sold me to Ray, the trafficker, Mom lost her mind. Dad, until the day he died, never forgave my brother Michael for not taking better care of me. Michael spent ten years searching for me, traveling across the country. When he finally lost hope, he slit his wrists and ended his life… Meanwhile, Grandma Betty and Uncle Matt took over our home and all our family’s possessions. I once thought about setting the house on fire and burning them alive, but then, something unexpected happened—I was reborn. I vividly remember that after she pocketed the money, Grandma told Ray, “Take the girl, but leave my grandson out of it.” … If I hadn’t been kidnapped, I would have been the beloved princess of the family. Dad, Mom, and Michael would have doted on me like I was the center of their world. But instead, I was sold off to the Appalachian Mountains, where I became dull and mentally impaired after suffering from a high fever for too long. The family that bought me realized I was no longer of any use to them, just an extra mouth to feed. So, they sold me off again. I was passed from one family to another until no one wanted to buy me anymore. In the end, they said I might be brainless, but my kidneys were still good, and so was my heart. So, I was trafficked for my organs and died. Only in death was I able to return home. That’s when I learned that Dad and Mom couldn’t bear the grief of losing me. They both passed away, leaving Michael all alone. But Michael never gave up on me. For years, he carried my photo from place to place, asking everyone he met if they had seen the girl in the picture. “She’s my little sister,” he would say, “She’s beautiful and sweet.” He wore his shoes down to the soles and wouldn’t even spend money on instant noodles, surviving on just a cup of water and a bread roll every day. At night, he clutched my picture and cried. When he finally heard the news of my death, his emaciated body could take no more. “Dad! Mom! Sis, wait for me—I’m coming to find you!!” As the blade sliced across his wrist… “Michael!” I tried to reach out and save him, but my hand passed through his body. My heart filled with agony. What was I supposed to do? Was I really going to have to watch my family die one by one because of me? Just then, a bright light flooded through the window. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in the back of a smelly truck, the stench of cigarettes burning my nose. I locked my gaze on the man in the black leather jacket. It was him! That damned trafficker—Ray. He pulled a few crumpled bills from his pocket, handing them to the woman across from him. “Here you go, count it, 500 bucks. Heard you’ve got two boys too. How about I pay you triple for them?” So it was for a mere $500 that my family was destroyed. Through the cigarette smoke, I saw Grandma Betty’s familiar, kind face. She smiled as she stuffed the money into her pocket. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not selling my grandson.” A chill ran through me. Tears welled up in my eyes. Why? Why would Grandma do this? Why would she sell me? Ray voiced the question gnawing at my heart. “Aren’t you afraid your son’s going to find out you sold his daughter?” “Who’s going to tell him? You? Me? No one will ever know,” Grandma muttered in her thick country accent. “And what’s wrong with selling a granddaughter? Girls are raised for someone else anyway. If I don’t sell her now, I’ll have to eventually.” She continued, “Michael’s already in jail, and I asked him for $1,000 for bail. He refused. If he won’t help his own brother, why should I coddle some useless little girl? Selling her was his fault for being so stubborn.” Ray laughed heartily. “Well, next time you’ve got more, you know where to find me.” Grandma added, “With this money, I can finally get my oldest son out of jail!” Then, as if it wasn’t enough, she urged, “Make sure you sell my granddaughter far away, somewhere she can’t run back. Fewer mouths to feed, and maybe my youngest son will send me more support money.” Because of that one sentence, in my previous life, I was sold off to the deep, hidden corners of the Midwest, never to see the light of day again—until I died. But this time, I’m going to make them all pay. The sedatives hadn’t completely worn off, but I mentally marked every stop along the way, waiting for the perfect moment to escape. Besides me, there was another boy in the truck, a delicate little kid who was sound asleep—another one of Ray’s victims, no doubt. The truck stopped on a small road near Central Train Station. A woman in a hat leaned against the window and whispered, “Vince, did you bring any boys this time?” Vince looked around cautiously before nodding. “Yeah, one boy. $1,200.” “Deal.” The woman handed him the cash, excitement in her eyes as she turned and revealed a basket on her back. “Put the boy in here.” “Mama, don’t leave me behind! Take me and my brother with you!” I cried, grabbing the woman’s sleeve. I knew this was my chance. “What do I need a girl for?” She turned her head, but I caught a flicker of sympathy in her eyes. The boy woke up just then and, without missing a beat, joined in, crying out for his sister. Vince took the opportunity to pitch me to the woman. “Buy her too! She’ll be company for the boy. Girls are cheap, and she can do housework. I’m giving you a deal here, Martha—$700, take her.” The woman hesitated, but in the end, I was sold again, this time for a $200 difference. Martha covered the basket with a cloth, leaving us unseen and unwatched. She was too distracted and left us on the roadside while she went to the restroom. “You stay here and don’t move. There are traffickers everywhere around here,” she warned. Once her footsteps faded, I gently woke the boy. “Do you want to go home?” I whispered. The little guy nodded, wide-eyed but silent. “Then follow me, and don’t cry. I’ll get us out of here. But if you make a sound, I’ll leave you behind.” I put on my toughest face, and we crawled out of the basket, sprinting into the crowd. I didn’t go to the police. I couldn’t trust anyone in this town—they could be working with the traffickers. I couldn’t take that risk. At the bus station, I scraped together the last dollar in my pocket and bought two tickets. Back then, you didn’t need an ID to ride a bus. The ticket clerk looked at us suspiciously, wondering why we didn’t have any adults with us. I squeezed Tommy’s hand tight and gave her my sweetest smile. “Ma’am, we’re going to the county to meet our mom. She’s waiting for us at the station.” Once we got to town, we didn’t have enough money to buy train tickets to the city. But we had to get to the city. So, I smudged dirt on my face and started begging. Tommy’s stomach growled loudly. He was hungry, but he never asked for food, just stared longingly. I was starving too, but I forced myself to endure it. “We’re almost home.” When we couldn’t take it anymore, we dug through trash cans for scraps. After gathering enough for the tickets, I slipped behind a woman and pretended to be her child to get on the train. But just as we stepped onto the platform, the train doors still open, I heard a commotion behind us. Martha, that vile woman, pointed right at us, screaming, “That’s my boy! He’s gone! My boy’s missing!” She rushed toward us, trying to drag us off the train. Others jumped in, trying to push us toward her. “Kids shouldn’t be wandering around. Go home with your mom.” My heart pounded. Were we really not going to make it? Images of Michael slashing his wrists with our family portrait in his arms flashed through my mind. I fought back with everything I had, biting the woman’s hand and clinging to the seat. “You’re lying! You’re not my mom! Help! She’s a trafficker!” Martha let out a scream and slapped me hard across the face, the sound echoing through the train car. Her accomplice kicked me in the side. “How dare you bite your own mother?” I curled up in pain, but no one around us seemed to care. They just watched indifferently. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a girl stand up to help, but her mother yanked her back, whispering, “Stay out of it. It’s their family business.” My head spun, and Martha yanked my hair. “What do we do with her?” her accomplice asked. Suddenly, a small body threw itself over me. Tommy, barely able to speak, cried out, “No! You can’t take my sister!” Martha’s face softened instantly as she scooped him up. “Come on, my precious boy. Let’s go home.” The taste of blood filled my mouth, jolting my senses awake. I gathered all my strength and shouted, “You don’t even know our names! My mom loves me—she’d never hit me like that! You’re lying!” All eyes turned toward us. A few passengers stood up and blocked the exit. “Could she really be a trafficker?” one of them muttered. Martha’s eyes darted around nervously, and she backed up a few steps, stammering, “The girl’s from my husband’s first marriage. She’s always been slow in the head and runs away a lot.” In those days, it wasn’t uncommon for stepmothers to mistreat their stepchildren. Her explanation seemed to satisfy most of the onlookers. Just when I thought no one else would help, a voice rang out. “Ma’am, if that’s your son, why didn’t you notice he’s having an asthma attack?” “I’m a doctor.” A man in a suit stepped forward, his voice steady and firm. “You’re suffocating him. I doubt you’re really their mother.” 　Sure enough, when Tommy was pulled out of the woman’s arms, his face was flushed red, his chest heaving, and his mouth slightly open, clearly struggling to breathe. Martha and her accomplice tried to make a scene, but the conductor quickly had them thrown off the train. We were saved. Once the train finally started moving again, I let out a shaky breath. “Don’t worry,” the man said as he opened his medical kit and began treating Tommy. “He’ll be fine.” A kind conductor moved me to an empty seat and asked if I was hurt. I shook my head. The bruises and bite marks on me weren’t just from defending myself—they were a symbol of my fight for survival, my fight to take control of my fate. “Do you know where your home is, sweetheart?” he asked gently. “I do,” I nodded. How could I not know? It’s the place I thought about every single day. Even in my last life, when my mind was no longer clear, even in death, I remembered home. But back then, it was too late. By the time I returned, Mom and Dad were gone, and I had to watch Michael die, powerless to stop it. Thank God, this time, I could finally return home. I turned my head to gaze out the window, and the tears I had held back finally fell. Mom, Dad… please, please be there when I get back. The man, Dr. Andrew, was a medical student who had just returned from studying abroad. He had stumbled into this crazy situation on his way home. When I asked why he had believed me, he simply smiled. “If I was wrong, I would’ve apologized.” “But if I was right,” he continued, “I would have saved not just you, but your whole future and your family’s as well. I became a doctor to help people, and this is just another way to do that.” “Thank you…” I murmured. When the train pulled into the station, Dr. Andrew stepped off with us. He was surprised to learn that we were both from Atlanta. I shook my head. “My home isn’t here, and I don’t know where this little boy’s home is either.” “Well, where are you headed? I can take you,” he offered. I hesitated, my feet slowing. I knew better than to trust anyone at this point. But Dr. Andrew seemed to sense my reluctance. He gently patted my head and pulled out his student ID from his bag. “Look, don’t worry. I’m just trying to help. I’d hate to see you two get lost again, because next time, I might not be around to help.” Dr. Andrew was in a rush, but he made sure we got to our destination safely. Before he left, he handed me a few chocolate bars with a warm smile. “Take care, little one. Stay safe.” As I looked up at his kind face, a mix of emotions swirled inside me. The world was broken in so many ways, but there were still people like him, stitching it back together. We made it to the police station in one piece. Since I could clearly provide my family’s address, they were able to register me right away. But Tommy was different. It seemed like he hadn’t even learned to speak properly yet. The only word he had managed to say was “sister.” Other than that, he was silent, his little head bowed as he gnawed on his fingers. Officer Kate, the kind policewoman handling our case, sighed deeply. “We’ve already figured out the details on the older one, but this little guy… what are we supposed to do with him?” Tommy’s big, watery eyes looked up at me as his small hand gripped the hem of my shirt tightly. “Sister?” Logic told me that I should focus on getting home, but the sight of Tommy’s worried little face tugged at my heart. I sighed and turned to Officer Kate. “Ma’am, could you please just take both of us home? If anyone finds out who he is, they can come to my house.” What was a little more time, anyway? We had come this far together. To help prevent more children from suffering at the hands of traffickers, I gave Officer Kate a detailed description of Ray and Martha. She looked at me in amazement. “You remember all of that so clearly?” “Because if I hadn’t,” I said quietly, clenching my fists, “I might never have seen my parents again.” Tommy and I headed back to my house together. Standing in front of the front door, still decorated with the worn-out family blessing sign, I suddenly felt a wave of hesitation. If I counted my past life, it had been twenty years since I had seen Mom and Dad. Summoning all my courage, I reached for the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. The door was locked, dust gathered on the frame. A neighbor soon explained that Mom, Dad, and Michael were likely out searching for me. According to Michael, Mom would stand on the street, holding my photo, asking every passerby she saw. Even when she lost her mind, she would still grab strangers and plead, “Have you seen my daughter? She has a round face, big eyes, she’s about this tall, and she’s really cute.” Dad had neglected his business, which had finally started to do well. His hair was turning white, falling out in clumps. He slept at the train station, terrified that I might come back one day and he wouldn’t be there. In the fourth year after I went missing, Mom couldn’t bear the pain any longer and passed away. By the following March, Dad lay on his deathbed, turning away from Michael, unable to look at him. His final words were, “You have to find your sister. Bring her home…” The night had fallen, but I couldn’t wait until morning. I didn’t stop for a second, making my way back to our old home in Greenridge Village. Years later, I often thanked my lucky stars that I made it back in time. The village roads were muddy, and by three or four in the morning, all the lights were out—except for one house. As I stepped off the bus, I heard the voice that still filled me with rage. “Matt, your brother says he found a lead that can bring Kaley home. It’ll cost $20,000, but in three days, we can have her back!” Dad sounded desperate. “Mom, I swear I’m not lying. If I had $20,000, I’d give it to you right now!” In those days, having that kind of money was a rarity. Where could he possibly get it? “Just sell the factory if you have to. Ask the neighbors for loans. You can gather the money somehow, can’t you?” Uncle Matt chimed in, pretending to be worried. “The longer Kaley stays missing, the more I worry. I’ve heard that some traffickers even break children’s legs…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294649”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic