The moment Chloe Vance showed up asking me to take her in, I heard a strange voice: 【I can’t believe I actually got reborn back to my high school days. If I get her to adopt me early this time, she’ll definitely give me the company eventually.】 【Old witch, if you don’t give me the company, I’ll make sure you die in another car crash!】 I froze, looking at the pitiful, innocent-looking girl in front of me. My heart sank. Young lady, if what you’re thinking is true, then I won’t be holding back. 1. I was on stage, presenting at my company’s new product launch. Suddenly, the main doors burst open. A girl, dressed deliberately plainly, almost like she was wearing rags, rushed in, dodging the security guards trying to stop her. Weaving through the throng of reporters, she threw herself at my feet, wailing dramatically. “Aunt Eliza, my mother, Brenda Evans… she’s dead! I’m an orphan now! I have nowhere to go!” I was completely baffled. I quickly helped the girl up, trying to understand what was happening. Leaning against me, the girl turned to face all the reporters and spoke first. “My mom was Brenda Evans. She was Eliza Hayes’—Aunt Eliza’s—good friend for many years.” “Right after they finished school, it was my mom who helped Aunt Eliza find her first job, found her a place to live.” “They were around the same age and quickly became best friends, sharing everything.” “Later, Aunt Eliza became successful, started her own company. My mom got married and had me. They drifted apart a bit after that.” After explaining the history to the reporters, the girl turned back to me, her face streaked with tears. “Even though they saw less of each other, my mom never forgot you. She always talked about you.” “Now… she died unexpectedly. I had to bring you to see her one last time, to fulfill her final wish!” Buried memories resurfaced as the girl spoke. I pictured Brenda, strong-willed and determined. The girl who always looked out for me like a little sister… she… she was dead? The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I started trembling uncontrollably. Clutching this girl, who looked so much like a young Brenda—maybe seventy percent resemblance—my heart ached. “What… what happened? How did your mom die? Where is she now?” “She died in an accident yesterday… She’s in the next city over, in her rented room…” Supporting the girl, I was about to get up, ready to go with her to see her mother one last time. Suddenly, an ethereal, yet eerily familiar voice whispered right beside me. 【Seriously? Is this woman nuts? That corpse is disgusting. Why drag me back there?】 【I came here so you’d adopt me straight away, not take me back to look at a dead body!】 2. My eyes widened in disbelief. I stared straight ahead. The girl was sobbing, looking back at me, her eyes tear-filled, her face flushed. Her mouth wasn’t moving, but that strange, familiar voice continued. 【What are you staring at, old witch? My acting is flawless. You think someone as sharp as you can see through it?】 【If you know what’s good for you, just check me into a five-star hotel and go deal with the body yourself. Stop being a nuisance!】 The voice stopped. The girl’s legs suddenly gave way, and she slumped back onto the floor. “Aunt Eliza… after Mom died… I had to handle everything myself. I’m just… so tired now…” My eyes narrowed. My expression hardened. That ethereal, familiar voice… the girl’s dramatic performance… There was no mistake. That voice was her inner thoughts. Corpse… disgusting… old witch… nuisance. What she said and did on the outside, and what she thought on the inside, were complete opposites! Ignoring her act, I pulled her up firmly and led her out of the conference hall. Speeding towards the neighboring city, I stared out the window. The car was silent. No one spoke, but the voice in my ear was non-stop. 【Why’s the driver going so fast? Trying to race to the afterlife? Guess you miss the feeling of dying in that car crash last time, huh?】 【Seriously, this old witch is impossible to figure out. Suddenly flips like that, treating me like her mortal enemy. What an idiot!】 【Having to put on an act and beg her to adopt me while looking at that sour face… it makes me sick, like I’ve swallowed a fly!】 【But hey, at least I got reborn back to high school. If she adopts me now, builds that bond, the old witch will definitely give me the company later…】 The entire drive, the girl—Chloe—her inner voice chattered on, filling me in on the whole story. Chloe Vance. She had been reborn. 3. In her previous life, Chloe’s father died in a construction accident when she was in middle school. Her mother, Brenda, raised her alone, working odd jobs. But the typical story of a child from a poor family maturing early didn’t happen with Chloe. She exploited Brenda’s guilt over being a single mother, constantly demanding more. Anywhere money was needed, Chloe never held back, never got a part-time job, just held out her hand to Brenda. Even after she started working, she complained her salary wasn’t enough to live on. That woman, Brenda, who had been strong her whole life, never imagined the daughter she depended on would exploit her for her own selfish enjoyment. Working multiple jobs a day, she unconditionally funded her vampire daughter’s vanity and laziness. Finally, Brenda collapsed from exhaustion and illness. At her worst, Brenda called Chloe, asking her to come back, wanting to see her. But Chloe refused. 【Stupid woman. Has her brain gone soft? I’m not a doctor. What good would calling me back do?】 That was the last call Brenda ever made. She died alone from her illness. Days later, her body was discovered by the landlord, who called Chloe to deal with it. Only then did she show up. Reluctantly, she initially planned to just pay someone to cremate the body and be done with it. But while going through Brenda’s belongings, Chloe found my phone number. Checking my profile on social media, she confirmed I was that Eliza Hayes, the moderately famous businesswoman. When Chloe was younger, Brenda had told her stories about escaping her controlling family back home and how her good friend, me, had helped her start a new life. Chloe had always dismissed these as tales of two poor girls helping each other, scoffing at them. But seeing my social media profile, she instantly realized her mother’s “good friend” was me. With this connection established, a new idea sparked in her mind: hold a proper funeral for her mother. It would let her contact me and get close to me, and bonus, she could collect funeral donations. A quick buck for Chloe. At the funeral in the previous life, I showed up. My reaction was the same as when I first saw Chloe moments ago – disbelief and grief. Seeing my old friend again, only to find she was gone, leaving behind a daughter who looked so much like her younger self… Feeling guilty for not reconnecting and helping Brenda after I became successful, I agreed to become Chloe’s godmother, essentially taking her in. 4. 【Old witch. Never married, all alone. Just me as her goddaughter. And she still won’t give me the company right away, saying I don’t have experience. So damn picky!】 【Not just stingy, but meddles in everything! Even who I date! Forced me to break up with my true love. Just jealous I had someone, right?】 【One foot in the grave and still won’t listen. Forced my hand, had to arrange that car accident to kill you! And it got me killed too, dammit!】 【Thank God fate gave me a second chance. This time, just watch me destroy you!】 Her thoughts stopped just as we arrived. The car pulled over. Chloe took a deep breath, adjusted her expression, and turned to me. “Aunt Eliza… I don’t think I can go up. I’m afraid if I see Mom’s body… I won’t be able to stop crying…” She lowered her head, sniffling pitifully. I let out a long, slow breath, releasing the tension in my chest. Glancing sideways at Chloe, I got out and went upstairs. The apartment door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, a wave of damp, cold air hit me. The room was dim. Sunlight was a luxury in these low-rent apartments, probably cost extra. It wasn’t large, maybe under 300 square feet, crammed with various items, but neatly organized. In this humble setting, Brenda had raised the clean-cut, seemingly refined, but ultimately rotten Chloe. Brenda had given everything she had, but that bottomless pit could never be filled! The room looked like any normal living space; there were no signs of preparations for saying goodbye to the deceased. The only “preparation,” I suspected, was the phony mourning outfit Chloe wore for her act! My mood soured further, my expression growing colder. Taking a few steps to the bedside, I saw a very thin person lying there. Almost skin and bones, her hair already half-gray. Her eyes were closed, her features contorted in pain. She was only in her early forties, yet she looked so withered and worn. And… it looked like she had been in extreme pain when she died. My heart clenched violently. I immediately knelt beside her bed. Suddenly, a timid “Aunt Eliza?” came from behind me, followed by that ethereal voice again. 【Shouldn’t have come up here to put on a show. This old witch is crazy. What’s there to cry about?】 【To suck up to you earlier, I personally pushed her down the stairs. Didn’t feel a thing!】 My pupils dilated instantly. I spun around, glaring at Chloe in utter disbelief. Startled by my stare, Chloe took a frightened step back. Before she could react further, I lunged forward and slapped her hard across the face. Animal! Monster! This isn’t a person, this is a heartless beast! To stoop so low for personal gain, to murder her own mother for advancement! Despicable! The slap was forceful, sending Chloe’s still relatively frail body tumbling backward onto the stairs. The apartment building’s stairs were steep and narrow. She rolled, unable to stop, all the way to the bottom landing. I looked down at her from the top, teeth clenched, nails digging deep into my palms. “From today on, you’ll stay with me. You’ll be my adopted daughter.” You wanted to latch onto me, didn’t you? Fine, I’ll give you that chance! But you better pray, you ungrateful viper, that you’re tough enough to survive it! 5. After arranging Brenda’s funeral, I officially took Chloe in. When she arrived at my house, still recovering with broken bones from her tumble down the stairs, her eyes instantly lit up. 【Doesn’t matter what crazy fit she threw back at the apartment. As long as she adopts me, that’s all that counts!】 【Getting adopted five years earlier this time… this fortune is definitely mine for the taking!】 Listening to her thoughts, watching her greedy expression, I remained outwardly calm. Yours for the taking? We’ll see if you even live through the next five years. Before Chloe’s injuries even fully healed, I arranged for her to transfer schools. Her original high school wasn’t bad; Brenda had worked hard to get her in there. But the school I chose wasn’t about elevating her status. It was about pushing her into a pit of fire. “Ms. Hayes, she’s been enrolled in the junior class at Crestview High, the one notorious for the spoiled, unruly kids from wealthy families,” my assistant confirmed. “She starts tomorrow. Also, arrange for someone to follow her discreetly, live-stream everything to me.” The next day, Chloe was sent off to school. A live feed appeared on my computer. The moment Chloe stepped into the classroom, a few boys with mischievous grins eyed her up and down. Noticing their stares, Chloe paused, then walked straight up to them. “What are you looking at? Bunch of creeps acting like you’ve never seen a girl before. Look again and I’ll gouge your eyes out!” The previously rowdy classroom fell silent instantly. All eyes turned towards them. The boys who had been smirking at Chloe froze, their expressions turning cold. Undeterred by the attention, Chloe seemed to relish it, scanning the room and announcing loudly. “From now on, in this class, everyone revolves around me! Everyone listens to me!” Watching this, I was slightly surprised. I hadn’t expected Chloe to have such an arrogant streak. But then I remembered she was reborn. It made sense. Given her personality, it was entirely plausible she developed this arrogance after I took her in during her previous life. My original plan was just to use her natural tendency to show off to get her taught a lesson. Her providing this level of blatant provocation was an unexpected bonus. Just as I refocused on the screen, things escalated. One boy, clearly unable to stand Chloe’s arrogance, cursed and kicked out at her. Caught completely off guard, Chloe took the kick full force. She stumbled backward, crashing into desks and chairs, sending a cascade of clattering noise through the room. After the kick, the boy advanced, stepping hard on Chloe’s one good hand. “What was that you said just now? My hearing’s not great. Didn’t quite catch it.” Gritting her teeth, Chloe tried to kick his foot off her hand with her good leg. But lying on the ground versus standing tall – the advantage was clear. The moment Chloe moved, the boy reacted instantly, stomping down again. This time, his foot landed squarely on her good leg. A faint cracking sound, barely audible. Chloe’s face immediately contorted in agony. A sharp cry escaped her lips. Shin bones are tough, they don’t break easily, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell. After that stomp, all the arrogance vanished from Chloe’s face. Instead, smiles appeared on the faces of the onlookers. Queen bee? Sorry, kid. Everyone in this class is meaner and more entitled than you.

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My father brought my aunt’s daughter home to raise. My parents showered her with affection, but I got nothing but beatings and harsh words. She personally pushed my mother down the stairs but framed me for it. My mother hated my guts, wishing every day that I would die. Finally, with a bitter laugh, I opened the window and jumped. 1. My head was shoved into a sink in the school bathroom. Water flooded my mouth and nose, and the feeling of suffocation washed over me. Ashley’s deceptively gentle voice scolded me. “Chloe, how could you pour hot water on a classmate?” “Let me teach you a lesson on Mom and Dad’s behalf.” Recognizing the voice, I fought back, breaking free from the girls holding me and shoving Ashley to the ground. She landed hard on the filthy floor, stunned for a moment before erupting in anger. “Chloe, are you asking for it?!” She scrambled up, grabbing my hair and yanking hard, making my scalp scream in pain. Fury exploded inside me. I spun around and slapped her hard across the face. She cried out, clutching her cheek in disbelief. “If you all want to play rough, I’ll play along.” I grabbed her hair and started dragging her towards a toilet stall. She whimpered and wailed in pain, flailing her arms and legs like a fish fighting for its life. The school toilets were disgusting, perpetually stained with brownish grime and slime. The other girls watched, frozen, as I forced Ashley’s face into the toilet bowl and hit the flush lever. She struggled to get up, but I held her down firmly. I whipped my head around and grinned at the onlookers. That smile silenced them instantly. Only the sound of Ashley’s choked pleas and struggles remained. Ashley trembled, her voice shaking, “Chloe, are you crazy?” In my past life, trying to please Ashley, I’d gotten used to never fighting back, never talking back. Now I saw that constantly backing down only made others bolder. When I’d had enough, I tossed her onto the floor. She coughed and gagged wretchedly, spitting out toilet water. She was shaking like a leaf, unable to even look at me. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please let me go…” she stammered, terrified. The other girls were horrified. They grabbed the shaken Ashley and practically crawled away in their haste to escape. Now, it was just me and Ashley. I smirked, walking slowly towards her. “Ashley, you’re going to regret this.” Her pupils contracted. She glanced around frantically, then grabbed a nearby mop and swung it hard, hitting me on the head. The metal clamp on the mop handle scraped my scalp. A thin trickle of warmth spread down from the top of my head. 2 My peaceful life shattered the day Dad brought Ashley into our home. She once threw Dad’s laptop into the bathtub. I rushed to pull it out. It contained important work files. A soaking like that would probably ruin it. The bathroom light cast Dad’s shadow long and menacing on the wall. His face was terrifyingly dark, veins pulsing at his temples. He slapped me so hard I fell to the floor. My cheek went numb, my ears rang, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Even then, I clutched the laptop tightly, afraid of damaging it further. Dad didn’t say a word, just snatched the laptop and left. Ignoring the pain, I scrambled up, head bowed, trying to explain, “Dad, I really didn’t do it.” He stopped, turned sharply, his eyes filled with disgust and irritation. “If it wasn’t you, who was it?” “Ashley?!” “How did I end up with something disgusting like you?!” His words hit me like ice water, making me shiver uncontrollably. Ashley stood behind him, a smirk playing on her lips, looking down at me with contempt. “Daddy, she’s a bad kid. Why don’t you believe me?” My eyes stung, my vision blurring. But my words only enraged my father further. He grabbed my arm, dragging and shoving me out the front door. The biting cold wind hit me. I curled up, shivering, but couldn’t escape the chill. My head throbbed. I touched my forehead – I was running a fever. Forcing my weak body up, I pounded on the door. “Mom! Dad! Please let me in!” My voice was hoarse, but there was no answer. Eventually, the neighbors couldn’t stand it anymore. Only because of what people might say did my parents finally take me to the hospital. After that, I never dared say anything bad about Ashley again. No matter how I tried to explain, my parents always assumed the worst of me. It was like I was the filthiest piece of trash in the world. In the moment my head spun from the mop hitting me, Ashley seized the chance and ran off. “Chloe?” A shadow fell over me, making me jump instinctively. 3 I looked up. Mr. Davis, my teacher, came into view. “Who did this?!” He looked frantic, quickly helping me up. No matter how much he pressed me, I kept my mouth shut. What good would telling him do? It would just worry him for nothing. Besides, my parents practically wished I would drop dead. In my past life, the bullying got so bad I begged my parents to let me transfer schools. My father’s face was cold, his voice irritated. “Have you ever thought about yourself?” “Why does everyone pick on you? Is there something wrong with your character?” The air felt heavy, suffocating. I struggled to breathe, digging my nails into my palms. My silence left Mr. Davis frustrated. He sighed, “I’ll take you to the hospital.” The cut from the metal strip was risky; it could get infected. After hours at the hospital, I lay exhausted in a bed. Mr. Davis looked at me with complex emotions in his eyes, a thousand unspoken words seemingly condensed into a single sigh. “Your parents are… a bit busy. They might not be able to make it.” Hearing this, my chest felt crushed by a heavy weight, making it hard to breathe. I thought I didn’t care anymore. So why did my heart still ache so much? I fought back tears, my voice steady. “It’s okay. I can manage on my own.” “Let me call in some backup for you!” “Huh?” I was stunned. The sadness vanished instantly. Mr. Davis rubbed his stubble awkwardly. “Something my son taught me.” A man in his fifties, trying to be hip. It was kind of endearing. I stayed in the hospital for a few days, then texted Mr. Davis I was being discharged. [Mr. Davis: Is someone picking you up?] [Me: My parents are coming.] After sending the message, I got a cab and left the hospital alone. The moment I walked into the house, a cup flew straight at my face. “Running around with trash all day, and you still have the nerve to come back?!” 4 I dodged just in time. Shattered glass sprayed everywhere, stinging my cheek. My mother glanced at me blankly, indifferent to my father’s outburst. Ashley quickly poured Dad a glass of water. “Please don’t be angry. Chloe’s still young, she just needs guidance.” I couldn’t be bothered watching this family drama unfold. As I turned to go to my room, Ashley stopped me. “Chloe, please don’t hang out with those people anymore. Let me see your injury.” Ashley looked at me with feigned concern, reaching for my cheek. Seeing her phony act made my stomach churn. I gagged slightly and pushed her hand away. My mother raised her hand high and slapped me across the face. “Chloe, why are you such a bitch?” “Is this how you treat your sister’s kindness?!” The slap made my cheek throb numbly. My ears rang, and I tasted blood at the corner of my mouth. I vaguely remembered how gentle my mother used to be. She’d call me her sweetie. If I fell and scraped my knee, she’d tear up with sympathy. Until Ashley came. She pushed my pregnant mother down the stairs. Mom lost consciousness right there. When she came back from the hospital, the baby was gone. “Chloe kept telling me she didn’t want a baby brother or sister,” Ashley had said, tears in her eyes. “Please don’t blame Chloe. Blame me. I should have watched her better.” Ashley stood in front of me protectively, shielding me with her arms. The tenderness in my mother’s eyes turned to hatred. No matter how much I explained, she didn’t believe me. One night, going to the bathroom, I saw light spilling from under my parents’ bedroom door. My mother was curled up in my father’s arms, sobbing heartbrokenly. She grit her teeth and hissed, “I really want to kill that child!” I stood frozen, my mind blank. When I came to, I was back in my room. My parents hadn’t noticed me. Or maybe they had, and just said nothing. Letting the fear fester inside me. “You’re not my mom. My mom wouldn’t hit her own child.” I looked at my mother, my eyes filled with sorrow, hoping to see a flicker of regret or pity on her face. She stared back at me, saying word by word, “Of course I’m not your mom. I could never give birth to a monster like you.” With that, she took Ashley upstairs. She gently squeezed Ashley’s earlobe, her eyes full of affection, every gesture showing care. Ashley smiled prettily, puffed her cheeks, and stuck out her tongue playfully. As they entered the bedroom, Ashley popped her head back out and gave me a sweet smile. She mouthed silently: [You lose again, Chloe.] Lose? As for my parents, the moment I jumped from that window, any real bond was already severed. Any display of emotion, any plea for sympathy now, was just a tactic to make them lower their guard. Let them think I was still the same fool. After Ashley confirmed my return-to-school date, she deliberately twisted my relationship with Mr. Davis. Walking through the school hallways, I was met with pointing fingers and whispers. Boys looked me up and down suggestively. One swaggering guy blocked my path in the corridor, sneering, “Guess the old guy wasn’t much fun, huh?” 5 “Want to try me instead?” I frowned. “Excuse me, but Mr. Davis and I have a purely professional student-teacher relationship.” The surrounding crowd burst into laughter. I spotted Ashley in the crowd and forcibly pulled her out. “My dear sister, why don’t you set the record straight?” Ashley looked annoyed, but quickly changed her expression when everyone looked at her. She frowned, sighed, and said a few vague things. “Chloe often stays out all night. Mr. Davis called the other day saying Chloe was hurt.” “I never thought things would get twisted like this.” Ashley looked guilty, then bowed deeply towards me, staying bent over for a long moment. “Chloe, this time it’s my fault.” With Ashley publicly bowing and apologizing like that, the other students started defending her before I could even react. “Ashley already apologized, what more do you want?” “Mr. Davis said she was hurt… wonder where she was hurt, haha.” “You can’t blame her sister for misunderstanding. Anyone would worry with a sister like that.” Outwardly, I looked wronged and angry, but inside, I felt a growing excitement. Let it blow up. The bigger the better. I was going to make them pay dearly! The student commotion got so loud it reached the school administration. The school wanted to sweep it under the rug, but parents wouldn’t have it and reported it directly to the district office. In my past life, Mr. Davis got involved when I was being bullied, and the bullies’ parents ganged up and reported him, costing him his job. I didn’t want Mr. Davis to suffer because of my messed-up situation. Ashley escalating things, especially hinting at an inappropriate relationship, really set the other parents off. Under pressure, the school administration identified the source of the rumors. Ashley and the students spreading the malicious gossip were all given formal warnings and had to read apology letters at the next school assembly. When my parents heard their precious daughter was in trouble, they rushed to the school. My mother hugged Ashley tightly, gently stroking her back. “Mom, it’s all my fault.” “Sweetie, how could it be your fault?” Ashley’s eyes welled up, tears clinging to her lashes, looking especially pitiful. The school staff witnessed this, then glanced at me standing alone, shaking their heads slightly. My mother asked worriedly, “Ma’am, my daughter got a formal warning. Will this affect her college applications?” “Technically no, it won’t prevent Ashley from applying to college.” My mother breathed a sigh of relief. Then she turned to me, walked straight over, and kicked me hard in the stomach.

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My son was prone to rage, a violent bully. Even as I lay dying, he was hitting me: “You old hag, who the hell do you think you are, trying to tell me what to do?” My young daughter threw herself over me, but it didn’t stop his fists: “Get off, you useless brat! Move, or I’ll beat you too!” Then I opened my eyes. I was back, one year earlier. I gently reminded my husband, “Remember to just give him whatever he wants, indulge his every whim. Otherwise, he might actually kill you, you know.” 1. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw my son frantically smashing things. As he wrecked the room, he screamed, “You old hag, if you don’t buy me that new PlayStation, get the hell out of my house!” My daughter was terrified, sobbing loudly. “Shut up or I’ll choke you!” he shrieked, grabbing a vase and hurling it. I quickly shielded my daughter. Ceramic shards hit my forehead, and blood instantly welled up. He didn’t even notice, just kept throwing things at me. I wiped away the blood, numbly cleaning up the mess. Then, I looked him straight in the eye and refused sternly: “No. I’m not buying it.” He blinked, stunned that I’d contradicted him for the first time, then exploded with rage: “Damn you, why won’t you buy it for me? Why the hell not!” I looked at my son’s face, twisted with hatred, murder flashing in his eyes, and my heart went cold. He was my firstborn, the Jones family’s golden boy, showered with affection since birth. My in-laws treated him like a precious jewel, spoiling him rotten. As a result, he grew up arrogant and aggressive. Every time I tried to set boundaries, my in-laws and my husband shut me down. “He’s just a kid,” they’d say. “He’ll grow out of it.” But if the roots are rotten, can the tree grow straight? In my past life, my own stupidity led to my miserable end. How could I have been so naive, believing he would magically change as he got older? How could I have believed my husband when he said every family needs someone to sacrifice, convincing me to become a stay-at-home mom? Letting his whole family treat me like the Jones’s maid. Even the child knew I deserved no respect. And now, this fifteen-year-old boy, already tall and strong, wanted to hit me again… Thinking of this, I dodged his incoming fist and slapped him hard across the face. “Because I’m your mother! You’re a student, you can’t be obsessed with video games!” He was stunned, frozen for a moment. Then he lunged at me, fists flying. “I’m gonna kill you today!” Quick as lightning, I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. “If I can’t control you, maybe we should both just end it!” He swallowed hard, fear flickering in his eyes. Pointing a shaking finger at me, he backed away towards the door. “Fine! Just fine! You wait! I’ll have my dad deal with you when he gets back!” He slammed the door behind him. I finally let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My daughter ran to me, crying. “Mommy, are you okay?” Her chubby little hands touched my bruised cheek, trying to soothe the sting. “Mommy, does it hurt?” Tears welled up in my eyes. “When Lily kisses it better, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” In my past life, after my son killed me, my daughter’s life was hell. Grandparents ignored her, Dad didn’t care, her brother bullied her relentlessly. She ended up an orphan, unwanted by everyone. This time, I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. 2. My husband’s call came an hour later. The second I answered, he roared, “Sarah, what the hell is this about you kicking Kevin out of the house?!” “He’s just a kid! So he wants to play some games, big deal! Did you have to make such a scene? Do you have any idea how hard I work, busting my ass day and night to support you, him, and that… other kid? And you’re still not satisfied! Can’t I even have peace of mind on a business trip?” I held the phone away from my ear, interrupting his tirade coldly, “If you’re on a business trip, then focus on your work. When you get back, we need to settle things between us.” The yelling continued on the other end, but I had already hung up. I used to have a steady career. He was the one who sweet-talked me into quitting, saying he’d handle the finances, and I should focus on the home. My in-laws supposedly came to help with the kids, but really, they just wanted me to wait on them hand and foot. On top of raising the children, I had to care for them too. I was exhausted every single day. When we disagreed on how to raise Kevin, their boundless spoiling drained me completely. Later, Mark convinced me to have a second child, promising that his parents would take over childcare afterward, freeing me up to go back to work. But after Lily was born, my in-laws changed their tune right outside the delivery room, calling her a “money pit” and saying the Jones family didn’t want a girl. From then on, I raised two children alone. Going back to work became a distant dream. My life revolved around my husband and kids. Going out meant school runs and grocery shopping. Over time, I stopped bothering with makeup or dressing up. Eventually, I became the “old hag” my husband complained about, and my son picked up the term, using it too. Not long after I hung up, I got a call from the neighborhood security. My son, Kevin, had gotten into a fight with another boy in the community park’s fitness area. He started it. As soon as I arrived, the other boy’s parent started yelling. “How do you raise your kid? He’s like some rabid animal, attacking people for no reason! My son didn’t even look at him, and yours just punched him! You think you can just bully people?” “Yeah, grandson! Let me see him again, I’ll beat the crap out of him!” my son snarled from the side. The neighbor was furious. “We’re calling the police! No settling this privately!” I bowed my head, apologized profusely, and promised to pay double for all medical expenses before they finally, reluctantly, let it go. Walking away from the security office, my son sneered at me, “Wimp. So what if we have to pay? Dad’s loaded. Like we can’t afford it. Should’ve beaten him harder!” “That’s disgraceful! Go home, now!” I yelled at him. He froze. Then he gave me a hard shove and stomped off towards home. Back inside, Kevin sprawled on the sofa and ordered me around, “I’m hungry. Go buy me Popeyes.” Looking at his arrogant face, treating me like his servant, I wanted to laugh bitterly. In my past life, he was always this defiant. I tried to reach him with love, gave in to his every demand, which only made him think I was afraid of his father and grandparents yelling at me. Now, it was clear. This child was beyond saving. “I don’t have any money. Ask your father.” First, I didn’t approve of him constantly eating fried chicken, soda, and burgers. Second, his attitude towards me was truly chilling. Kevin glared at me. “Dad gives you money for expenses! Go buy it!” Just then, the doorbell rang. It was my best friend, Brenda. She saw us staring each other down and looked surprised. “What’s wrong? Look how upset Kevin is.” “I want Popeyes, and the old hag won’t buy it for me!” Brenda immediately played peacemaker, pulling Kevin onto the sofa, cooing softly, “If Mommy won’t buy it, Auntie Brenda will.” With that, Brenda took out her phone, handed it to Kevin, and told him to order whatever he wanted. As Kevin ordered, he shot me a warning glare, daring me to object. He’d been overweight for two years already. The doctor said absolutely no fried foods, especially chicken and soda. I tried to enforce it strictly every day, but his father, grandparents, and even Brenda constantly snuck him extra treats. Two years of trying to lose weight, and he only got fatter. In stark contrast to Kevin’s selfish rebellion, my daughter Lily was a true sweetheart, well-behaved and adorable. I decided to ignore my son. I went with Lily to her room, helped her set up her drawing supplies, and while she was busy drawing, I went to the kitchen to start dinner. Kevin was gorging himself in the living room, practically draped over Brenda, praising her effusively. Then I heard him say, “Auntie Brenda, you should be my mom instead. I can’t stand that old hag anymore, she ruins everything!” Brenda giggled, covering her mouth. “What nonsense are you talking!” “It’s true! Auntie Brenda, please be my mom.” The spatula in my hand suddenly felt heavy, slipping slightly. A deep chill spread through my heart. For this marriage, for this son, I had done more than enough. Enough was enough. 3. Mark suddenly walked in. Kevin’s scowl vanished instantly, and he ran happily to hug his father. “Dad, you’re finally back!” Mark hugged Kevin back tightly. “Hey, buddy! Dad missed you like crazy.” “Daddy.” Lily left the dinner table too, wanting to greet her father, but Mark coldly pushed her away. My daughter’s lower lip trembled, and she looked at me with pleading eyes. I went over and carried her back to her chair. Father and son completely ignored this. Kevin pointed an accusing finger at me. “Dad, she wouldn’t let me have fried chicken and soda! And she hit me!” He pointed to his cheek. “It really hurts.” Mark shot me an angry glare, then handed the family bucket of chicken he was holding to Kevin. He said loudly, clearly for me to hear, “Eat up, son. Eat all you want. It’s my money she’s spending anyway. Who dares tell my precious boy he can’t have what he wants!” They say depending on someone else financially is hard. Mark proved it point-blank. He believed that as long as I asked him for living expenses, I had to obey his commands. He pulled Kevin over towards me, his tone commanding, “Apologize to your son. You went too far.” I replied firmly, “Absolutely not.” He roared at me, “If you don’t apologize, I’ll cut off support for you and the girl! I’ll only provide for Kevin!” So, the son belonged to the Jones family, but the daughter was solely mine. I hadn’t expected him to care for Lily, but hearing him say it out loud still stung. “Bullshit!” I retorted forcefully. Mark froze. It was the first time I’d defied him so openly in front of someone else, and with Kevin waiting for him to assert his authority. He became furious, raising his hand to slap me. “You rebellious bitch!” I looked at him coldly. “I want a divorce.” His raised hand stopped mid-air. He was stunned, unable to believe that I, who had always revolved around him, would initiate a divorce. Then, as if hearing a joke, he started laughing, the flesh on his face trembling. “Your parents practically disowned you, and you’ve got that brother living there now. Where are you gonna go if you divorce me? Do you even know your own worth?” “If you behave, apologize to Kevin, and beg his forgiveness, maybe I’ll give you one more chance.” I didn’t bother arguing. I pulled out the divorce papers. “I’ve already signed. Kevin goes with you, Lily comes with me.” His eyes flickered down to my signature, confirming I was serious. He sneered, “You’re the one asking for the divorce. Fine, but don’t expect a dime from me for you two.” “No problem.” Mark glared at me. Maybe my initiating the divorce wounded his pride. He laughed mockingly, “Talk is cheap. You think you can actually support that… girl… without me?” I said, “Why don’t you take both of them?” Mark fell silent for a moment. Brenda quickly interjected, “Sarah, what are you thinking? They say daughters are a comfort. You don’t want either of them? You’ll regret this later.” I stared straight at Mark, asking again, “I can’t afford both. Will you take them both?” The Jones family had always called Lily a “money pit”; they would never agree to take her. I was just calling his bluff. Kevin sneered at me, “Whoever had the useless kid can take her. The Jones family doesn’t raise useless kids.” Then, with an air of superiority, he added, “If you apologize to me right now, maybe I’ll feel sorry for you and ask Dad to give you some child support.” In that instant, it felt like a thousand needles were pricking my heart. Kevin was a carbon copy of Mark – arrogant, condescending, exactly like his father. In the last couple of years, Mark’s business had taken off, his office space getting bigger and bigger. Money had completely inflated his ego. Inflated it so much he thought I couldn’t possibly survive without this house, without him. In this home, I received zero respect. Mark was clearly pleased with Kevin’s performance. “Good boy. Dad will buy you the latest game console tomorrow.” Kevin’s face lit up immediately. He looked at me like I was an eyesore. “Dad, hurry up and sign the papers so she leaves! Let her take the useless kid. She’ll come crying and begging you later.” 4. Mark smirked cruelly. “Take the girl and get out, and I’ll sign.” I said, “Fine, I’ll take her. But you need to give me some financial compensation. How else am I supposed to raise her?” Perhaps afraid I’d drag things out, Mark didn’t hesitate much. He actually gave me a sum of money. “Okay,” I said. “From now on, if Kevin needs anything, you can’t come to me. Likewise, even if we end up begging on the streets, we will never come to you.” “You remember what you said.” Mark quickly signed the agreement, his fat trembling slightly. “Remember! Don’t come crawling back, even if you’re begging!” “The same goes for you and your son,” I shot back. My wonderful son sneered at me, “Just get lost already! Once you’re gone, Dad can take me to buy that game console.” Brenda stood by, putting on a show of trying to reconcile us. “Oh dear, why divorce? Surely you can work things out?” I gave her a cold, knowing look. In my past life, when I was heavily pregnant with my second child and started hemorrhaging, I called Mark to take me to the hospital. He said he was busy, told me to take a taxi. But then I saw Brenda’s social media post. A familiar pair of hands, a familiar watch. That night, I was alone in the hospital fighting for my life. Because they couldn’t reach him, my parents had to come and sign the consent forms for surgery. Afterward, Brenda came to visit me in the hospital. She gushed about the diamond necklace her “boyfriend” had given her that night, how he took her shopping, bought her designer bags, how they embraced on a bed covered in heart-shaped rose petals… For the sake of the children, I chose to play deaf and dumb. In public, I forced a smile. Behind closed doors, I cried constantly. The resentment festered inside me, unresolved. My daughter never even got a drop of breast milk because of the stress. I had failed my daughter. My husband and my best friend had been together for ages. My precious son thought Brenda would treat him well. He didn’t understand. Brenda was spoiling him rotten, setting him up for failure! He wasn’t her flesh and blood. Whether he became obese or terminally ill, what did it matter to her? As for Mark, that scumbag? Once he had new children with Brenda, would he still care about Kevin? But… it was none of my business anymore. Since Kevin didn’t want me as his mother, I didn’t want him either.

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After Dad died, Mom got a big settlement check. But I never knew where it went. She didn’t buy me clothes, even took out high-interest loans, and would haggle over fifty cents at the grocery store. She wasn’t very nice to me. Didn’t let me have friends, locked me in the house at night, never smiled at me. Then, I died. … I died, and my soul floated in the air. I looked down in disgust at my own half-naked body being pulled from the water. Bloated and pale, it was truly ugly. I couldn’t stand it there. It was so cold. As if guided, my spirit started drifting, slowly, towards home. It was the same familiar small town. Just as I drifted into the main street, I saw Mom. She looked much older than other women her age, her cheeks lined with dry wrinkles, streaks of white at her temples. Mom had gotten so thin these past couple of years, often with bruises on her face. I never knew where she got them. Right now, she was arguing with the old lady who ran the vegetable stand. “These greens aren’t even fresh, nobody’s gonna want ’em. How about you just give ’em all to me for two bucks!” Mom frowned, looking like she was doing the lady a favor by taking them off her hands, but her grip on that bunch of collards was tight. “No way! I’d lose my shirt sellin’ ’em to you for that!” the stand owner snapped back, getting flustered. “Why not? C’mon, knock off fifty cents, and I’ll buy a bit more.” … She was always doing things that annoyed me! What was the point of fighting over a few dollars’ worth of vegetables? Look at her, couldn’t win the argument, so now she’s resorting to insults. She never finished school, so she always had a sharp tongue, could argue someone into knots. Whenever she won one of these fights, she’d be happy all day. She also used to pick up discarded vegetable leaves people didn’t want, ignoring the dirty looks she got. That’s why nobody in town really liked Mom. They all said she was stingy, hard to get along with. When did it start? I thought back hard. Oh, right! Ever since Dad died, Mom was like a different person. She became fierce, foul-mouthed, ready to pick a fight with anyone over anything. Everyone said Mom had jinxed Dad, brought him bad luck that killed him. Even Grandma said so. So, I didn’t like my mom. She made me lose my dad. Because of her, kids in town used to make fun of me when I was little. They all said I was the kid with no dad, and a widow mom who’d caused his death. It hurt so much, I’d run home crying. When Mom saw me, she’d give me a cold stare and scold me: “They say that stuff, don’t you know how to talk back? All you do is cry!” Then, like a cornered animal, she’d grab a kitchen knife and storm over to their house, yelling and cursing. The things she said were awful, loud enough for half the town to hear. After that, I was completely alone. No kids wanted to play with me. I hated Mom. Not only did she cost me my dad, but she cost me my friends too. She had so many bad habits, always arguing everywhere. It drove me crazy and made me a little scared of her. After a while, I got used to it. Mom was always serious. Even when I was sick, she wouldn’t coddle me. She’d hold my hand, and though it was warm, the rough calluses made me flinch. She’d look at me with a sneer, “Useless thing. What’s there to be scared of with a little sickness? It won’t kill you.” At that moment, I felt like the most pitiful kid in the world. No dad, and a mom who didn’t seem to care. At least it forced me to become independent. Later, I started school. Whenever there was a parent-teacher conference, Mom always showed up, ready to embarrass me. Other moms weren’t exactly glamorous, but at least they looked neat. But my mom, always dusty and disheveled, like she’d just crawled out of somewhere. She never bothered to clean herself up. After a while, I stopped telling her about the conferences. When the teacher asked, I’d say she was busy. But somehow, Mom always found out and showed up right at the last minute! And she had to make a scene, standing in the doorway in her dirt-stained clothes, waving at me in front of the whole class, making me want to disappear. Back then, I never stopped to think about what Mom was doing, why she was always dirty. My young self just couldn’t understand. Why did I have a mother like this? Always doing things that made me ashamed. Maybe she just didn’t care about me at all, so she acted however she wanted. I always envied other kids whose moms could give them some sense of normalcy, of decency. Me? I had nothing. Nothing but a cage… 2 Mom was also incredibly controlling. She even interfered with my friends. Anytime I got close to a classmate, she insisted I bring them home for her inspection. And after meeting them, she’d purse her lips, unsatisfied. She always said I was making friends with “bad influences,” that I needed to cut them off. I scoffed inwardly. What did someone who never went to school know about good friends?! If I wanted to go out at night, she’d strictly forbid it, locking me inside. Then she’d grab her bag and hurry out herself. She never explained where she was going, and I wasn’t curious. Through the window, I’d silently watch the other kids playing outside in the evening, envious. They had that happiness. I didn’t. When I got to high school, my features started to blossom. People on the street would comment on how pretty I was becoming, which made me secretly happy. Gradually, I started caring about how I looked. I begged Mom to buy me nice clothes, but she always bought the plainest things. So frumpy, it made me cringe. But she didn’t see it. She stubbornly believed those clothes suited me. She also constantly lectured me about studying hard. “You’re a student. What do you need to dress up so fancy for? There are creeps out there. You need to focus on your studies.” Other girls dressed up nicely, but I mostly just wore my plain clothes or whatever was required for school. Because I was afraid people would laugh at the ugly clothes Mom bought. That teenage pride. Because of Mom, my insecurity started early. I knew we weren’t rich, but we should have had enough for basics, right? Maybe Mom wanted me to be looked down on, just like her. After all, she was disliked everywhere she went. But I didn’t want that. Whenever Mom and I went out together, I never walked too close to her, afraid someone would realize she was my mother. Sometimes, Mom would try to take my arm, and I’d always frown and push her hand away. Mom’s presence felt like a heavy weight constantly pressing down on me. I just wanted to grow up fast, get away, far, far away from her. During school, my good grades and looks earned me the appreciation of teachers. But because I didn’t talk much with classmates, I was isolated again. Mom knew nothing about this. She left early and came home late every day. Probably working, I assumed, though I never knew what she did. If I had understood then, maybe I wouldn’t have… Mom had a reputation for being fierce. Although she never hit me, she wasn’t gentle either. She rarely smiled at me. She was always sternly telling me I had to get into a top college! Maybe my excellent grades were just something for her to brag about. She was so selfish! My life was nothing but studying, studying, studying. Mom controlled me. I felt like a bird she kept caged, unable to spread my wings. She got her wish, though. I scored in the top ten in the state on the college entrance exams, got amazing scores. But I wasn’t particularly happy. My mom, however, must have been ecstatic. Look, there she is now, finished haggling for vegetables, already bragging to the neighbors about my scores. “My daughter, she’s gonna be the one to fly out of this town and make something of herself, hahaha!” Her grin nearly reached her ears. Looks like my homeroom teacher already called her. I’d never seen her look so happy. Was getting into a top college really that big a deal? Later, I would find out. It truly was her lifelong dream. 3 My soul felt tethered to Mom, drifting wherever she went. We were back home now. Everything in the house was the same, filled with the familiar smells of everyday life. Mom’s sallow face was full of joy as she eagerly cooked dinner. It was the same old meal: rice, collard greens, and fried pork chops. I was so sick of it I could puke, but she always made it, tirelessly. Then she went into her room and brought out a bag. Inside seemed to be a box. She placed the bag carefully on the table. What was it? Was it for me? I was a little curious. Mom looked at the clock on the wall, then stood by the door, waiting for me. She waited for a long, long time, until the sun began to set. She rubbed her aching lower back, starting to mutter, “Why isn’t that girl home yet? The food’s getting cold.” Oh, right. She didn’t know I was dead. She would never see me again. I was finally free. After a little longer, Mom’s face started showing real anxiety. Like an ant on a hot pan, she paced back and forth by the door. Then suddenly, she slammed the door shut and rushed outside. My soul flew along with Mom’s figure through the air. The weather was getting colder, the air biting. Mom didn’t seem to feel it, rushing through the town, yelling my name. Some neighbors heard the noise and peeked out, saw it was my mom, and shut their doors again. Makes sense. Nobody liked Mom, why would they help her look for me? The whole town echoed with Mom’s calls, her voice filled with worry and panic. I desperately waved at her. I’m here, right here! But she couldn’t hear or see me. I could only watch helplessly as she ran out of town, heading towards the school. Her shadow stretched long under the streetlights. Mom was so short, so small. All these years, she’d been like this intimidating force, giving me the illusion she was tall and imposing. Mom searched all the way from the school to the bus stop, but there was no sign of me. She got even more frantic, mostly just lost and unsure what to do. I’d never seen such panic on her face. Growing up, my image of her was always arrogant, bossy, supremely confident. Even though it was winter, beads of sweat covered her forehead, trickling down her cheeks. I wanted to wipe the sweat away for her, but I couldn’t touch her. Stop looking. I’m already dead. I said silently in my heart. Just then, a phone rang. Mom pulled an old flip phone from her faded jeans pocket. I scoffed silently. That phone was at least ten years old, and she still wouldn’t replace it. So cheap! After answering the call, I saw her face turn deathly white, whiter than my own dead face. She swayed, her whole body trembling, leaning against a railing just to stay upright. Then, the phone slipped from her hand and hit the ground, automatically switching to speakerphone. “Linda? Mrs. Hayes? Are you listening? You need to come to the riverbank. They found a girl’s body… they think it might be Chloe…” It was my homeroom teacher’s voice. So Mom knew. She knew I was dead. Suddenly, I didn’t dare… I didn’t dare look at my mom’s expression. If she found out how I died. She’d be furious, wouldn’t she? 4 Dark, heavy clouds pressed down on the sky, making the whole world feel hushed and suffocating. Then, a light drizzle began to fall. The wind howled, chilling me to the bone. Mom practically dragged herself to the riverbank. By now, my body was surrounded by yellow police tape, and a crowd had gathered outside the perimeter. Mom stood on her tiptoes at the edge, peering in. When she saw my body, I clearly saw her stumble back. Then she abruptly lowered her head, fists clenched, trembling slightly. Rainwater streamed down her thin jawline. After a long moment, Mom finally lifted her head. Her eyes looked a little red. It was dark out. It must have been my imagination. Mom was so strong, how could she cry? I heard people in the crowd whispering beside me. “What happened here? Suicide?” “Maybe murder, you think?” “Nah, you guys got it wrong. Heard when they pulled her out, she wasn’t wearing pants. Definitely raped and then drowned.” … I had to admit, that last spectator hit the nail on the head. That’s exactly how I died. I had no future left. Mom looked up, staring intently at my body for a while. Suddenly, she started shaking her head, backing away, muttering: “No, no, that’s not my daughter! My daughter’s waiting at home for me to cook dinner, I need to get back…” With that, she turned and stumbled away, disappearing into the rain. I was a bit speechless. My face was bloated from the water, but surely she could still recognize me? Mom ran all the way home, bursting through the door. Inside the house, she paced frantically, calling my name, her only answer the empty air. She collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. Only then did I notice the food on the table hadn’t been touched. Mom, she must still be hungry. So foolish. I floated over to her, helplessly whispering in her ear, “Mom, I’m really dead. Stop waiting for me.” Late that night, Mom sat at my desk. She carefully took a photograph out of her pocket. That photo… I drifted closer, looking carefully. It was a picture of Mom and me. It had been torn up and taped back together. How did it get torn? I shook my head, trying to remember. Oh, right! When I was little, blaming Mom for Dad’s death, I tore up the only photo we had together. She actually kept it. Mom really was frugal and sentimental, wouldn’t even throw away a torn photo. I pursed my lips. Her dry, wrinkled hand stroked the image of little me in the photo, over and over again. Mom, when she was young, she used to be so pretty too. Why did she look so worn down now? After a moment, she took out that bag again. And I finally knew what was inside. It was an iPhone. So, Mom remembered. I had mentioned wanting an iPhone a few times. Mom had looked pained then, saying she didn’t have enough money. At the time, I thought she was just being cheap. A faint, unidentifiable emotion stirred in my chest. I had misunderstood her. Mom stroked the photo, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it: “Mommy bought you your favorite gift. Why aren’t you home yet?” As she said this, I heard a soft “plink.” It was a tear.

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My son, Ethan, is brilliant, sharp as a tack. Everyone says he’s gifted, a boy genius. My daughter, Penny… well, she’s the slow one, can barely string a sentence together. She makes me look like a fool in public. Sometimes, I’ve even thought… it would be better if she were just… gone. But then, Penny really did die. And all I do now is cry, wishing she’d come back. 1. I was right in the middle of Ethan’s parent-teacher conference when Penny’s homeroom teacher called. “Hello, is this Penny Miller’s mother?” The teacher on the other end confirmed who I was, then continued, “You weren’t able to make it to the conference today, and I wanted to chat about Penny’s latest grades. Would you happen to have some time? I could stop by for a home visit…” “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ms. Evans,” I said, scanning the classroom for Ethan’s desk. “Her dad and I have just been swamped with work lately, couldn’t get away.” I found Ethan’s spot and sat down, distracted. “Could you just text me her report card? I’m actually in the middle of something right now. I’ll call you back later.” I mumbled some excuse, eager to get off the phone, and hung up without a second thought. The mom next to me glanced over. “Ethan’s mom, I didn’t know you had a daughter too!” she asked, curious. “Your son is so amazing, your daughter must be doing great in school too, right? What grade is she in? Where does she go?” My face stiffened. I forced a tight smile, trying to hide how awkward I felt, terrified someone would sense something was wrong. Nobody would believe it if I told them. My son brought home trophies from Mathletes, writing contests, piano competitions like they were giving them away. My daughter? She was practically non-verbal, a little simpleton. I was embarrassed to even admit they were siblings when we were out. But secrets have a way of getting out. Since I wasn’t saying anything, the parent in front of me suddenly chimed in, “Ethan’s mom, is Penny Miller in 8th grade your daughter? My oldest son is in her class.” “Yes… She grew up mostly with her grandmother, you know, out of state. The schools weren’t great there. She only transferred here for middle school.” My face flushed crimson. That was the best I could manage, a flimsy excuse to cover my embarrassment. “Oh, that explains it! I was wondering why they were so different. My son mentioned it, but I didn’t really believe him.” The parent in front chuckled, covering her mouth. “Well, it doesn’t really matter,” she said, her tone dripping with insinuation. “As long as the girl’s pretty. Just needs to work on her speaking, maybe she could be an influencer or something later. You don’t need much education for that nowadays.” I felt the sting of her mockery, my cheeks burning. I wished the floor would swallow me whole. It was all Penny’s fault. Failing every subject, always at the bottom of the class, making me, her mother, look bad too. And her teacher, making such a big deal out of everything. So what if I missed the conference? Did she really have to call and rub it in? Wasn’t I humiliated enough? Just as I was sinking into my seat, wanting to disappear, Ethan walked over quietly, report card in hand. “Mom, here are my grades.” I took it automatically. One look, and my mood instantly lifted. All the irritation vanished. Just as I expected, Ethan was number one in his grade again. Perfect scores in Physics and Math, even. I glanced at the faces of the other parents clutching their kids’ report cards; you could tell from their expressions their kids hadn’t done nearly as well. “Ethan’s first again! You really know how to raise them, Mrs. Miller.” “Look at you! Why can’t you be more like Ethan Miller? Look at these grades! Are you even trying?” “Mom, Ethan’s naturally gifted! How am I supposed to compete with that…” Listening to the praise for Ethan and the complaints other parents had about their own kids, a small smile touched my lips. See? It wasn’t that I favored my son. It was just that compared to my daughter’s utter lack of potential, my son was simply… outstanding. Smart, talented, exceptional. That was what my child was supposed to be. 2. Basking in the envious looks from the other parents, I happily examined Ethan’s report card, turning it over and over. Ethan stood beside me silently the whole time. It wasn’t until a few tall boys in school jackets walked past the back door, winking and nudging him, that he reacted. “Yo, Ethan! Let’s go shoot some hoops!” “Are those your friends?” I paused, surprised, looking skeptically at my slight son. Ethan opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the leader of the group politely bowed towards me. “Hi, Mrs. Miller. Nice to meet you. We’re Ethan’s friends.” He turned back to Ethan with a grin. “Ethan, didn’t we say we had that game today?” Ethan mumbled a soft “Yeah,” then looked at me for permission. “Mom, can I go hang out with my friends for a bit?” “Of course! Young people should be active. You shouldn’t just sit home studying all the time. Go get some exercise.” I agreed cheerfully. Even though I prioritized his studies, I wasn’t that kind of rigid parent. Kids needed to be well-rounded – academics, arts, sports – to grow up healthy. But Ethan didn’t move. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, lowering his head. “Mom,” he whispered, “can I have some money? We were thinking of grabbing dinner together later…” I was already thrilled about his grades, so I didn’t think anything of it. I readily pulled a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and handed it to him. Ethan visibly relaxed, took the money happily, and left with his friends. The parent-teacher conference didn’t last too long, but afterwards, a few other parents invited me out to eat, wanting tips on raising a successful son. By the time dinner was over, it was already dark. I took a cab home. Seeing the house completely dark reminded me that my husband was out of town on business, and Ethan was out with friends. No wonder it felt so empty and cold tonight. I didn’t dwell on it and flipped on the lights. The sight that greeted me almost gave me a heart attack. Penny was curled up on the sofa in her dirty school uniform, staring at me. Her dark eyes were completely still, unblinking. She looked vacant, almost creepy in the dim light. My heart stopped, then a wave of inexplicable rage washed over me. “Penny Miller, what the hell is wrong with you! Are you trying to scare me to death, lurking here like a cat?” I stormed over, yanked her off the sofa, and started yelling, pointing right in her face. “Do you have any idea your teacher called me again today? All about your terrible grades! You are embarrassing me to death!” “Why can’t you be more like your brother? I’m not asking you to be number one! I’d be grateful if you just weren’t dead last for once!” “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, how I could have produced such a stupid kid.” I was furious, my blood boiling. But Penny just stood there like a wooden doll, staring at me wide-eyed. Only after I finished yelling did she finally utter a sound. “Mommy… I’m hungry…” “Hungry? What right do you have to be hungry! Look at your grades! Do you even deserve to eat?!” I shot her a hateful glare and slammed my bedroom door shut. I truly couldn’t understand it. My husband and I were both college professors. Intellectually, genetically, there shouldn’t be any issues. How could we have a daughter like Penny, a simpleton who couldn’t even follow a conversation? Because of her, I had to endure those parents’ mockery today. If I had known she’d turn out like this, I never would have had her. 3. The next morning, Penny left early for school, backpack already on. She was in 8th grade, with standardized tests coming up, so she had to go in early for study hall every morning. My husband and I were too busy with work to make her breakfast. We just loaded up her school lunch account and let her eat all three meals there. Ethan, on the other hand, had a more flexible schedule. I’d take him out for breakfast on my way to work, then drop him off at his school. It fit perfectly into my routine. But maybe because I went to bed so late last night, I woke up late this morning. I slapped the alarm off on my phone, forcing myself to sit up. My head was pounding. I looked into the living room; Ethan was already dressed and sitting there, reviewing his notes. “Honey, Mommy’s not feeling too well today. Here’s some money, can you take a cab to school and grab breakfast on the way?” “Did you have fun with your friends yesterday? You got back really late. Try to be home earlier next time, okay? Don’t make Mommy worry.” Seeing Ethan nod obediently, I quickly grabbed his backpack for him. Then I reached for my purse by the door, fumbling inside for some cash. As my fingers touched the inner pocket where I kept small bills, I froze. It was empty. Completely empty. I refused to believe it. I pulled the purse off the hook, turning it inside out, searching frantically. “That can’t be right,” I muttered. “I know I put the change from grocery shopping in here…” “Ethan, did you touch Mommy’s purse?” “N-no. No, I didn’t.” His eyes flickered for a second, but I didn’t pay much attention. Then he added, “I saw Penny looking through stuff yesterday when I got home. Mom, maybe… maybe she took it?” My movements stopped abruptly. My brow furrowed, a seed of suspicion taking root. My husband was out of town. It was just me, Ethan, and Penny in the house. I knew Ethan; he would never take money without asking. That left only one possibility. I thought Penny was just slow, maybe a bit simple. I never imagined she’d start stealing from us. Stealing pennies today, gold bars tomorrow. This wasn’t about intelligence anymore; this was about character. Utterly rotten. What would she become? My expression turned icy. But Ethan was going to be late, so I pushed it aside for the moment. I pulled a fresh hundred-dollar bill from my wallet, pressed it into his hand, and put him in a cab. All day long, I rehearsed what I would say, how I would handle this. How could I teach Penny a lesson, make her understand the gravity of her mistake? My daughter being slow was embarrassing enough. I absolutely would not allow her to become a degenerate, a leech on society. When Penny got home from school, I told Ethan to go to his room and study. I sat on the sofa, waiting for her, forcing myself to stay calm. She came in wearing the same dirty school uniform as yesterday. I frowned, annoyed. “Where have you been playing? You’re covered in mud again.” “N-nowhere. We… we had P.E. today.” She took off her jacket, stammering out an explanation. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my anger in check. I pointed to the sofa. “Come here. Mom needs to ask you something.” Penny looked confused but sat down beside me obediently. Her pretty face stared blankly at me. I kept my voice gentle. “Tell Mommy the truth. Did you take the money from my purse?” Penny immediately shook her head like crazy, waving her hands frantically. “No! I… I didn’t take it!” I knew she’d deny it. “But Ethan saw you going through my purse yesterday,” I said patiently. “Mommy isn’t going to punish you. If you can admit your mistake, that means you’re an honest girl, and Mommy will forgive you.” “I didn’t… didn’t take your money!” Suddenly, she bristled like a cornered hedgehog. “Wh-what proof do you have? I just didn’t!” She abruptly turned and started shouting towards Ethan’s room, looking like she wanted to charge in there and attack him. “When? When did you see me take money!” Ethan, who had just peeked his head out, jumped back startled by her outburst, retreating like a quail. “What are you yelling about? Do you want the neighbors to come over and see what a spectacle you’re making?” “What did your brother say that was wrong? I’ll find out soon enough if you stole it or not!” Seeing Penny still defiant, my dislike for her intensified, boiling over until I finally lost all patience. I snatched her backpack and dumped everything out onto the floor. A few crumpled dollar bills fluttered down, silently confirming my suspicions. I laughed coldly. “You didn’t take it? Then where did this money come from?” “I thought maybe you just made a mistake, went down the wrong path for a moment. I wanted to give you a chance to confess. But you just keep lying!” “This isn’t about being slow anymore! This is about your morals! You’re morally bankrupt! You’re a shameless little thief! You’re going to end up as trash, a burden on society!” Penny stood frozen, tears streaming down her face. “You dare to cry? You steal from your own family, and now you have the nerve to cry?” I couldn’t stand seeing her like this. Her stutter already made communication difficult, and now tears made it impossible. Rage surged through me. I grabbed her arm hard, shaking her. “What is there to cry about? I should never have given birth to you! Why don’t you just drop dead!” 4. That evening, Penny didn’t eat dinner. She just stayed huddled in her room, refusing to come out. My husband got back from his trip and sensed the strange atmosphere in the house. “What’s wrong?” he asked me quietly. “Did Penny bomb another test?” “Hmph! If only it were just bad grades!” I slammed the lesson plans I was holding onto the table, furious. “Your daughter! Your precious daughter, Penny! She’s started stealing money now!” “Stealing money?” My husband looked startled, surprised. “What happened?” “The cash I keep in my purse for groceries went missing. I thought maybe I’d misplaced it, but Ethan saw Penny rummaging through my bag that night. Today, I checked her backpack, and sure enough, there was money inside.” “Ethan saw her?” My husband glanced towards the living room where Ethan was watching TV. He sighed. “That doesn’t necessarily mean Penny took it, does it? Did you check serial numbers? Mark the bills?” Unlike me, my husband always felt that Penny, being naturally slower and having a stutter, needed more care and attention than our bright son. He tended to favor her more. I knew his leanings. I shot him a glare, indignant. “Don’t try to twist things! Who else could it have been? Ethan never lies! She’s just trouble!” “The cash you mentioned…” My husband paused, then suddenly seemed to remember something. He slapped his forehead. “Was it in that black purse? The one you usually take grocery shopping?” I nodded, confused. “Yeah, why?” “Then you’ve misunderstood Penny. I took that cash.” He sighed, looking resigned. “I was rushing to the airport that day, and my phone was dead. I grabbed the small bills from your purse for cab fare.” “Are you serious?” I eyed him suspiciously. “Then why didn’t you say so earlier?” “I just didn’t think of it until now. But you really did accuse Penny wrongly this time. Think about it – finding money in her bag doesn’t prove anything. What if it was her own allowance she’d saved up?” My husband nudged me gently with his elbow, reminding me. “You need to apologize to Penny, properly. You really hurt her feelings, yelling like that when she was innocent. The poor kid must be heartbroken.” “Penny might not be as sharp as Ethan, but she’s a good kid. Didn’t you used to say daughters are the sweet ones, the little comforts?” He continued gently, trying to soothe me. “You forgot, didn’t you? Tomorrow’s your birthday – your actual birthday, not the lunar one. Remember last year? Because you said winter winds were harsh, Penny saved her allowance all year to buy you that scarf. Maybe this money was for your birthday too.” His words jolted my memory. It was true. I always focused on my lunar birthday, often forgetting the Gregorian one. But Penny… she always quietly prepared a gift for me every year. Most of my energy went into Ethan. I knew exactly how much he ate for every meal. But Penny? I paid so little attention to her, I’d completely forgotten these small, important details. “She’s probably asleep now. Tomorrow. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” I turned away awkwardly. The image of Penny’s tear-streaked face flashed in my mind, and a pang of guilt surfaced. I was good at lecturing kids, but apologizing? This was new territory. I didn’t even know how to start. I silently decided I’d make her favorite meal tomorrow, try to make up for wrongly accusing her. With that plan, I went to the market the next day and picked out the freshest seafood and meat. I spent the afternoon cooking Penny’s favorites: shrimp scampi and sweet and sour pork ribs. My husband, hoping to mend the rift between us and celebrate my birthday, had already ordered a cake. We sat at home, full of anticipation, waiting for Penny and Ethan to come home. But time passed, and neither of them appeared. “What’s going on? School should have been out ages ago.” I checked the clock, just about to call the school, when the sound of the front door unlocking startled us. Ethan walked in alone, backpack slung over one shoulder. His face was pale, like he was scared of something. “Ethan, where’s your sister?” My husband looked past him towards the empty doorway, his face hardening. “Didn’t I tell you to walk home with your sister today?” he asked sharply. Ethan’s eyes darted away for a second. “I… I didn’t see her,” he stammered. “So I just came home.” “Maybe she went off with friends. You know how girls like to browse stationery shops after school. Don’t take it out on Ethan.” I bristled at my husband’s tone, about to defend Ethan further, when my cell phone suddenly rang with an unfamiliar number. “Hello, yes, am I speaking to Penny Miller’s parent?” “Yes, this is she. What is it?” There was a slight pause on the other end. Then, the voice said softly, “This is the City Police Department. We found Penny Miller’s body in the alley near Westwood Middle School earlier this afternoon. We need you to come down to the station.”

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The day I turned eighteen, my sister Sarah was found dead outside, barely clothed and covered in bruises. My mom looked over her little ledger book, spat on the ground, and said, “Useless girl. Still cost me ten grand, that one.” Then, without even looking at Sarah, she wrapped her in an old sheet and had someone dump her body out in the woods. But this time, I’m going back. This time, I’m going to save my sister. 1. Early on my birthday morning, my sister Sarah, who I hadn’t seen in a year, called me from the payphone down at the corner store in our old town. “Ashley, happy birthday! Can you come home today? I got you a present!” Her voice sounded grown-up, but there was still that childlike innocence in it, the kind that didn’t match her age. At that moment, I was already walking the streets downtown, handing out flyers to scrape together tuition for the next semester. After I finished middle school, Mom and Dad wanted me to quit school and work in the factory. I refused. They beat me so bad I was stuck in bed for a month, then they kicked me out. Luckily, I met my mentor, Mrs. Evans. She organized a fundraiser through the whole school, and that’s the only reason I got to go to high school. When I applied for college, I picked the one furthest away from home I could find. I paid for everything myself – tuition, living expenses, everything. I left home for good. The only person who ever remembered my birthday was my sister, Sarah, whose mind was still like an eight-year-old’s. Hearing the hope in her voice, I had to choke back tears and say no. But Sarah understood. She even tried to cheer me up. “Okay, Ashley. Then when you come back for Christmas, I’ll have money! I can help pay for your school then!” Sarah got a really high fever when she was eight. Mom and Dad didn’t want to spend money on a doctor. They only took her when she was barely breathing. She pulled through, but her mind never grew past that year. Her idea of “making money” was doing little chores for neighbors, who’d give her pocket change out of pity, enough for candy. Tears streamed down my face listening to her. Right then, I promised I’d come home the next day. I could hear the smile in her voice over the phone. But by nightfall, I got the terrible news. My sister, who was just so excited for me to come home that morning, was dead. She was found barely dressed in a field near town. And because I didn’t want to lose half a day’s pay, I hadn’t gone back. I missed my chance to save her. That day, Sarah had tucked the money she made selling vegetables from her little garden stand into a hidden pocket in her clothes. Grandma Ruth demanded the money, but Sarah refused. Grandma beat her savagely for it, made her kneel on the floor, and wouldn’t give her anything to eat. Sarah got so weak from hunger she couldn’t even stand. She begged Grandma Ruth for food. But Grandma refused. Instead, she dragged Sarah over to Old Man Hemlock’s place. That’s right. My grandmother took my sweet, mentally disabled sister and handed her over to that disgusting old bachelor, Hemlock. She charged him by the visit. Sarah fought back. Hemlock beat her up. She managed to run away in terror, but she had nowhere to go. She ended up hiding in that field at the edge of town. By the time I rushed back the next day, I found her. Her clothes were torn, her body covered in dark bruises. The blood beneath her had dried. She wasn’t breathing. My head roared. I quickly took off my jacket and covered her, sobbing uncontrollably. And the one responsible, Grandma Ruth, was already spreading lies among the townsfolk. “That poor girl, her mind ain’t right. Had one of her fits, tore off her clothes, ran outside. Froze to death out there. Such a shame, such an embarrassment.” Grandma rubbed her eyes like she was crying, but her face was dry. “I had a bad headache last night. Made her dinner and went straight to bed. How was I supposed to know the poor thing would go crazy and do something like this? It’s a curse on this family!” My father put on a show of sadness. “We never mistreated her here at the Miller house. It was just her time, I guess. Nobody’s fault.” Then he pretended to cradle Sarah gently, talking about giving her a proper burial. The moment he got her back to the house, though, he dropped her body on the floor in disgust. “Bad luck,” he muttered. 2. My mom immediately pulled out the little notebook she always carried, tallying things up. Her face was long and sour. “Just like I said, a drain on resources. Raised her all these years, and I’m still out ten thousand dollars!” My name is Ashley Miller. My sister’s name was Sarah Miller. I was an unplanned baby. My parents actually gave me away at first. But after Sarah got sick at eight and stayed… simple, and Mom couldn’t get pregnant again, they took me back. Then my brother, Kevin, was born. Suddenly, Mom and Dad’s attitude towards me did a complete 180. They treated Sarah even worse, like they couldn’t wait for her to just disappear. Grandma Ruth never had a kind word for her. It was always yelling or hitting. Mom and Dad just looked the other way. Even with Sarah’s death, all the suspicious circumstances, they didn’t care. They decided she’d had a “fit,” fallen, and frozen to death. They were just glad the burden was finally gone. That evening, Grandma Ruth took out a wad of cash and handed it to Mom. “Here’s thirteen hundred. Hemlock gave two hundred the first month. After that, he complained she wasn’t a virgin anymore, so it was ten bucks a time. Ten times a month. Kevin wants those new Jordans, right? Use this to buy them for him.” My head exploded with a buzzing sound. Everything clicked into place. Blinded by grief and fury, I snatched the money and ripped it to shreds, screaming through my tears: “Are you even human?!” My father slapped me hard across the face. Grandma and Mom started screaming abuse at me. They didn’t feel guilty at all. They were just furious I’d destroyed the money. Later, when I was digging a small grave for Sarah myself, I found something sewn into the lining of her worn-out jacket. A hundred dollars in carefully folded bills, and a note written in shaky, childish letters: “Ashley, Birthday present.” The sky was painfully clear, but I felt like I was standing in a downpour, my face completely soaked. For the rest of my life, even after I made something of myself and cut off all ties with my parents, what happened to Sarah was like a thorn stuck deep in my heart, making it hard to breathe. Then, I opened my eyes. I saw the bus ticket stub in my hand. Tears flooded my eyes. I was back. Back on the day that haunted me for the rest of my life. This time, I didn’t wait until the next day. I caught the overnight bus straight back to my hometown. Sarah, please wait for me this time! 3. After a whole day on the bus, a few more hours on a connecting local line, and then catching a ride with a guy on a beat-up motorcycle, I finally made it back home just as evening fell. Nights in the countryside aren’t filled with colorful lights or busy streets. Just endless darkness and the sound of crickets chirping all around. Using the faint starlight, I found Sarah in the field near the edge of town. Her forehead was bleeding heavily, and her body was covered in countless cuts and bruises. The night wind blew, and she curled up tighter, moaning softly, “Hurts… Grandma… it hurts so bad.” Seeing her trying to cry but unable to, just lying there barely conscious, I scrambled towards her like a madwoman, holding her thin body close, trying to wipe away the blood. In this remote, backwards part of the country, old, toxic ideas were still strong. Having a son meant carrying on the family name; daughters were just expenses, looked down on from the day they were born. In this kind of environment, where boys were prized above all else, Sarah, being intellectually disabled from her illness, was even more of an outcast, a constant target. Grandma Ruth used her to get money, and even if my parents knew, they turned a blind eye. Remembering what happened last time, I quickly pulled out the first-aid supplies I’d brought and started trying to stop the bleeding. Sarah felt the cool antiseptic and slowly opened her eyes. “Ashley?” She struggled to lift her heavy eyelids, trying to figure out if I was real or just a dream. I squeezed her hand. “Sarah, it’s me, Ashley.” A weak smile touched her lips. She tried to reach into her pocket, but her hand fell back several times, lacking strength. Finally, she managed to pull out the hidden bundle of cash. “Ashley… this is my garden money… your birthday present… Take it for school… don’t let Grandma… find it…” She couldn’t catch her breath and coughed up a mouthful of blood. Tears were streaming down my face by now. I quickly tucked the hundred dollars into my bag. “Okay, Sarah. I’ll keep it safe.” She tried to say something else, but she passed out. I had to get her to a hospital immediately, or she wouldn’t make it. “Open the door!” I carried Sarah back to the house on my back and started pounding on the door. After what felt like forever, Grandma Ruth opened it, muttering curses. “Crazy girl, what’re you screaming about in the middle of the night!” She pushed the door open, saw Sarah unconscious on my back, and froze for a second. Then she put on a fake concerned voice, “What happened to Sarah?” I didn’t have time to argue. I needed to get Sarah help fast, and that meant getting Grandma to find someone in town with a truck. In this town, most of the young people had left for work elsewhere, and the kids had no say. Without Grandma Ruth asking, nobody would help me. But when I asked her, she yelled, “It’s the middle of the night! That stupid girl ran off dressed like that! It’ll cause a scandal! Who am I supposed to ask for help now!” I shot back furiously, “You know exactly why she was out here in the middle of the night, don’t you?” Grandma yelled even louder, “She’s got legs, hasn’t she? How should I know where she goes!” Everything I’d been through growing up taught me one thing: with unreasonable old people like Grandma, you had to get tough to make them listen. I spat out a harsh threat: “If you don’t find someone to help right now, and Sarah dies, I swear I’ll take Kevin down with me. I’ll make sure the Miller family name ends right here!” Kevin was her Achilles’ heel. She started screaming insults at me, but she reluctantly went off to find help. While she was gone, I quickly changed Sarah into a clean set of clothes. I wouldn’t give the villagers any chance to mock her. Sarah was finally taken to the hospital. My parents also flew back overnight. Not because they were worried about Sarah, though. They came back to make sure no more money was “wasted.” Faced with the medical bills, Grandma Ruth was the first to collapse onto the hospital floor, wailing, “I’m just an old woman! I raised that simple girl, where would I get money? I ate scraps so she could have food! I never mistreated her!” “It’s just a few cuts, what does she need a hospital for? Slap some bandages on her, stop the bleeding. If she lives, she lives. It’s fate. Treating her is just throwing money away.” My mom pulled out her ledger. “It cost so much to raise her! She still owes me ten thousand dollars! Where would we get money to treat her? No money!” I was furious. “You had us, but you never took responsibility! You don’t deserve to be called parents!” Mom’s eyes bulged. “Like anyone wants you either!” My dad impatiently asked if I wanted them to just bring Sarah home. He’d pay for the gas, tops. If I didn’t listen, they were washing their hands of it. Her life or death had nothing to do with them anymore. I stood firm. “I’ll take care of Sarah from now on. Even if I have to sell my blood or work myself to the bone, I’ll get her the treatment she needs.” “Fine, you take care of her then. Don’t come crawling back to us.” “Even if we die, Sarah and I won’t die in your house!” My dad decisively took my mom and grandma and left. As they turned away, I heard Grandma Ruth talking about buying Kevin new clothes and shoes. They had money for plane tickets, but not for Sarah’s hospital bills. The absolute heartlessness of my own parents chilled me to the bone. Thankfully, luck was on our side. Sarah’s injuries were mostly external, severe blood loss, but no internal damage. The money I’d saved from working, plus the hundred dollars Sarah had saved from her garden, was enough to cover the initial medical bills. After paying, there was even a little left over for basic needs. With proper treatment, Sarah slowly started getting better. The knot of tension inside me finally began to loosen. The day she was discharged, Sarah hid behind me, clutching my hand and crying. “Grandma hit me and yelled at me… she didn’t give me enough food… she took me to that man’s house and he hit me… I don’t want to go back and see Grandma.” “Ashley, I’ll be good. I’ll work hard and earn my own money… Can we not go back to Grandma’s house? Please?” Even with the mind of an eight-year-old, Sarah understood everything. Tears streamed down my face as I hugged her tight, trying to give her a sense of safety. “We’ll work hard, support ourselves, and never go back there again.” That memory would haunt her for the rest of her life. For the rest of mine, I would do everything in my power to protect Sarah and make sure she knew only joy. 4. The first challenge after leaving the hospital was finding a place to live and figuring out how we’d eat. With Sarah, I couldn’t stay in the college dorm anymore. I found a tiny basement room near campus, just big enough for one bed. The landlady, Mrs. Peterson, was a kind woman. When Mrs. Peterson heard our story, she agreed to let us pay the rent later. We didn’t get lucky with some rich benefactor swooping in to save us. I knew deep down that for poor people like us, the only real chance was to cling tightly to education, to use it as a vine to climb up. No matter how hard life got, I couldn’t let go of my chance to learn. When I didn’t have classes, I took Sarah with me to hand out flyers. At night, I worked as a server at a fried chicken joint while Sarah rested at home. One night, coming home late from my shift, I found Sarah waiting up, guarding a steaming bowl of beef noodles. When she saw me, she immediately put down her chopsticks and brought it over. “Ashley, breakfast!” she said, mixing up night and day. After paying the rent yesterday, Sarah and I had less than five dollars between us. An eight-dollar bowl of noodles was a luxury for us, used to surviving on plain bread. “Sarah, where did you get this?” Her eyes sparkled brightly. “Mrs. Peterson! She helped me find a job! Washing dishes at the diner down the street. I get free breakfast every day, and five hundred dollars a month!” Sarah carefully blew on the noodles to cool them for me. Her clear, bright eyes watched me intently. “Ashley, Mrs. Peterson said I have to help you as much as I can, so I’m not a burden. I’ll work hard to earn money so you can stay in school.” Looking into her innocent eyes, tears started streaming down my face again. How could anyone call her a burden, an idiot? She was my wonderful sister, who loved me and cared for me. By my sophomore year, thanks to our hard work and careful saving, things weren’t quite so tight. At least I could pay my tuition. Sarah and I didn’t have to eat plain bread every meal; we could afford meat sometimes. Mrs. Peterson felt sorry for us and cleared out a storage room on the first floor for us to live in, without raising the rent. We finally moved out of the damp, dark basement. The shop owners and neighbors nearby knew our situation, and many were happy to lend a hand. Mr. Henderson, the security guard at a nearby building, would keep an eye out when I wasn’t home to make sure Sarah didn’t wander off. Ms. Davies at the corner store would give Sarah snacks and toiletries, pretending they were about to expire. Mrs. Peterson often claimed she’d cooked too much food. There was Mr. Johnson, old Mrs. Gable… Our biological family was a wreck, but strangers we’d never met showed us endless warmth. By my junior year, life got even better. Sarah and I each bought a cheap smartphone. Our family thought Sarah was too stupid to bother teaching, she’d never spent a day in school. So, I started from the very beginning, teaching her how to hold a pen, how to write her name, letter by letter. Then I taught her phonics. It was slow and difficult, but day after day, Sarah finally learned to slowly type out words. Now, we could communicate even when I wasn’t home. Senior year, I got an internship at a company. During a work trip, we got caught in a flash flood out in the countryside. Relying on the survival skills I’d learned growing up in a rural area, I managed to grab onto a big tree. I also pulled a colleague who’d been swept away to safety with me. Later, I found out he was the boss’s son, working his way up from the bottom to learn the business. After that incident, the boss learned about me. He reviewed my performance records since I joined the company and moved me to the Marketing Department, where hard work directly translated into better rewards. A few years later, I finally established myself in this bustling, glittering city through my own efforts. I became the Marketing Manager. I moved with Sarah into a nice apartment complex the company rented for me. Sarah adapted well to city life. She even took some classes at a special needs center, learning new things. She happily became my supportive home-helper. Just as I was starting to look forward to a brighter future… My mother showed up at my door with my ailing father and my brother Kevin, who had dropped out of high school.

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Two months pregnant, and my dog disappeared. That night, my mother-in-law served him for dinner. Her excuse was my constant morning sickness was starving the baby. A few days later, I went to great lengths to make her a special soup, too. Looking at the dark, murky bowl, I let out a sinister smile. “Mom, drink up. Slowly, now. Wouldn’t want you to choke on those little meaty bits, would we?” 1 It had been three days since my dog, Daisy, went missing. For three days, I’d tried my best to ignore the severe nausea, searching for him day and night. But whether I posted on Facebook or put up flyers, there was no sign of Daisy. My mother-in-law said there were dog flippers seen around the neighborhood lately; she suspected they took him. My husband, Mike, nodded along, saying it was possible. I sat heartbroken on the sofa, tears streaming as I looked at pictures of Daisy on my phone. Mike came over, gently rubbing my back, telling me not to get too upset, that it wasn’t good for the baby. Daisy was a Golden Retriever. He grew up with me. To me, he was my friend, my companion. More than that, he was family, one of a kind. How could I not be heartbroken? “No matter what, I’ll turn this town upside down if I have to. I will find Daisy!” I clenched my fists, furious, completely missing the look on Mike’s face. That evening, my mother-in-law cooked a huge spread, and right in the middle of the table sat a large tureen of meat soup. She ladled some into my bowl, but the layer of grease floating on top made me gag. I rushed to the bathroom, dry heaving, feeling so weak it was like I was trying to vomit up bile. My mother-in-law looked annoyed, pursing her lips. “When I was pregnant with Mike, I wasn’t delicate like you, always throwing up! Can’t even enjoy perfectly good meat. Some people just have no luck!” Perfectly good meat? She knew perfectly well that meat smells made me sick right now, yet she deliberately stewed a huge pot. Wasn’t she just trying to torment me? “Mom, what kind of meat is this?” Her mouth opened slightly, then closed. She blinked. “Rabbit.” Rabbit… The thought of a cute bunny being stewed made my stomach churn again. Pale-faced, I leaned back on the sofa, scrolling through my phone. Every time I saw a dog video, the tears started flowing again. Daisy was a gift from my mom before she passed away. She worried about me being alone. After making my dad promise to look after me, she had someone carefully pick out the most well-behaved, understanding dog from a breeder. Daisy was part of my entire childhood. He was tied to my memories and longing for my mother. Thinking of this, I opened the neighborhood group chat again and posted another lost dog notice, adding a line about a substantial reward for his return. Not long after, someone sent me a friend request. It was my downstairs neighbor. Brenda, downstairs, was a kind soul, usually home watching her grandson. If she was adding me, she must know something about Daisy! I quickly accepted. She asked when the dog went missing. Specifically, it was three days ago that I couldn’t find him. Goldens are smart; they don’t just get lost and not find their way home. “A few days ago, I heard a terrible yelp, like a dog crying out in pain. It even woke up my grandson, so I remember it clearly.” A yelp… In pain? “Yeah, I even came upstairs to check. Your mother-in-law said everything was fine, so I went back down.” The timing… it was exactly when Daisy disappeared! I thanked her profusely, sent her some cash through Venmo, and then my eyes fell on my mother-in-law nearby. She was definitely hiding something. I needed a way to trick the truth out of her. While Mike was in the shower, I found my old backup phone and taped it under my mother-in-law’s bed. Every so often, I’d call it, letting a dog barking ringtone play on loop. My mother-in-law looked around suspiciously, muttering to herself. I sneakily flipped the main breaker, plunging the house into darkness. Lowering my voice, pretending to shiver, I asked, “Mom, did you hear something?” 2 My mother-in-law stammered that she hadn’t heard anything. If Daisy’s disappearance had nothing to do with her, she wouldn’t react like this. I tiptoed barefoot over to her, held a flashlight under my chin, and tapped her on the back. “It sounds like… like a dog barking…” “Ahhhh!!!” My mother-in-law spun around, saw my pale face lit from below, and shrieked, collapsing onto the floor. A guilty conscience needs no accuser. I smirked, slowly walked back to the kitchen, and flipped the breaker back on. My mother-in-law scrambled up, shaken, her eyes now holding a trace of impatience and malice as she looked at me. I went back to my room, locked the door, and started thinking about all the details I’d overlooked. The dog vanishing without a trace. My mother-in-law’s strange behavior. And… Even though it was a hot summer, a chill ran down my spine. Mike came out of the bathroom, dripping wet, asking me what was going on. I pushed him aside and walked straight to the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator, took out the pot of leftover meat soup, and amidst my mother-in-law’s screams, poured it all down the drain. Behind me, she slapped her thighs dramatically. “Mike, stop your wife! She’s lost her mind! She’s crazy!” Seeing her reaction only strengthened my suspicion. Just as Mike reached out to grab me, I snatched a kitchen knife from the block. He backed away slowly. “From now on, both of you stay away from me.” The size of the bones, the structure of the limbs… this couldn’t possibly be a rabbit. Who ever saw a rabbit this big? The more I looked, the colder my heart grew. After digging through the pot, I finally found it – a leg bone. The faint, flower-shaped mark on it was clear as day. It felt like a punch to my gut. When I was little, a neighbor kid was messing around with decorative fireplace tools near a hot hearth. One piece, shaped like a flower, somehow got flung through the air, heading straight for me. Daisy jumped in front of me, and the hot metal seared his leg, leaving that unique mark. And now, that same flower-shaped mark was staring me in the face. This… this really was Daisy… Seeing me standing frozen, Mike spoke from behind me. “Honey, don’t jump to conclusions. Put the knife down first…” I picked up the leg bone, held it up in front of them, and demanded sharply, “What is this?” “Mom was just worried that having a dog around wasn’t good for the baby’s development, so she… she cooked him to help you get stronger—” I stared at Mike in disbelief. How could he say something so monstrous?! In other words, he knew all along his mom had killed and cooked my dog? My mother-in-law stood nearby, arms crossed, saying irritably, “It’s just a dog! So what if I cooked it? You throw up everything you eat; my grandson isn’t getting any nutrition!” “If anyone’s to blame, it’s your weak body! Otherwise, would the dog be dead?!” Rage surged through me. I turned to Mike, and he just looked back at me blankly. As if I were the unreasonable one, the sinner. They killed my dog for their own selfish reasons, and they expected me to be grateful! Why should I? “Fine. It was all for the baby, right? Then I’ll make sure your precious grandson never sees the light of day!” My mother-in-law’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” What do I mean? First thing tomorrow, I’m going to the hospital for an abortion! “You wouldn’t dare!” Mike pointed at me furiously. “If you dare get an abortion, believe me, I’ll divorce you!” Ha! Threatening me with divorce? Did he think that scared me? I spat on the floor in front of them. “Okay, fine,” I said with a cold laugh. “Whoever backs out is the coward.” Mike lunged at me, but I shoved him aside. He raised his hand high, swung his arm, and slapped me hard across the face. “Making a mountain out of a molehill! You’re crazy! We’ve spoiled you rotten!” 3 A metallic taste filled my mouth. My body felt like it wasn’t my own as I stumbled backward, crashing against the dining table. A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. Blood started soaking through my clothes. My baby… “Oh dear Lord, my grandbaby!” Mike froze. My mother-in-law frantically pushed him, and together they clumsily got me to the hospital. “Whatever happens, you have to save my grandson! Save the baby!” she kept shouting. Lying on the hospital bed, I barely had the energy to lift my eyelids. What century were we living in? Still demanding they prioritize the baby over the mother? The doctor shot them an irritated look and told my mother-in-law to be quiet. When they stepped away, the doctor quietly asked me what I wanted. Just two words. Save me. Using my last bit of strength while I was still conscious, I signed the consent form. I also asked the doctor, pleaded with them, to let me keep my baby’s remains. I wanted to take my baby home, to lay him to rest peacefully. The procedure went smoothly. I carefully hid the small container with my baby’s remains and, when they weren’t looking, brought it home. During my recovery period, her true colors showed. She only cared about feeding herself, never giving me a kind look. My meals consisted of plain boiled noodles or instant ramen. By the third day, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I grabbed the bowl of noodles and dumped it all in the trash. My mother-in-law rolled her eyes dismissively, picked up a feather duster, and deliberately stirred up dust while saying loudly, indirectly aiming at me: “The Miller’s big black Lab next door just had two litters of puppies. Not like some people who can’t even hold onto a baby.” After speaking, her eyes landed on me. Fine. You want to play passive-aggressive games? If that’s how you want to be, then don’t blame me for what comes next. Some time later, Mike went out of town on a business trip, leaving just me and my mother-in-law at home. Late that night, while she was sound asleep, I put on a wig I’d bought earlier, made my face deathly pale, and painted my lips blood red. I changed into a white nightgown and stood before the mirror. I couldn’t wait to see her reaction. Standing outside her bedroom door, I spoke in an eerie, sing-song voice, ending with a giggle, “Woof woof… give me back my life… you have to give me back my life!” I let out a creepy laugh and dropped to all fours on the floor. Let’s see how she reacts to this. My mother-in-law first froze, then started screaming hysterically, shouting nonsense, “You cursed ghost! Die and stay dead! Go find peace already!” “After raising you for so long, being eaten by us was your destiny, a blessing!” I froze. My original plan was just to pretend Daisy’s ghost had come back to scare her good, but I hadn’t expected to hear her true feelings pour out like that. She thought Daisy’s spirit had returned. Alright then. I clapped my hands softly, went back to the bathroom, washed my face, composed myself, and returned to her room. Crazy people are unpredictable, right? Now, I was back to being ‘normal’ Sarah. I kicked her bed gently to wake her up and brought the bowl of soup to her. She was trembling, afraid to come closer. “Mom, why are you hiding over there? This is a special nourishing soup I made just for you. Come on, have some.” I took a sip myself, making satisfied smacking sounds, pretending to savor it. After a long pause, my mother-in-law finally crept closer and took a couple of tentative sips. She glanced at me sideways. “Earlier… you… never mind. Mom did what she did for your own good, killing that stupid dog to make soup for you. You need to be grateful, you know.” I beamed, completely ignoring her words, and said softly, “Yes, Mom. And look, I made this special nourishing soup for you. It’s great for your skin, makes you look younger, works wonders for beauty.” I scooped up some ingredients from the bottom, listing them proudly, “These are dates, goji berries, longan fruit…” She started drinking faster, seemingly hungry. “Mom, slow down. Don’t want your grandbaby to make you choke, now do we?”

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Everyone in our social circle knew how much Ethan Hayes adored me. For five years, he was considerate, gentle, incredibly attentive. He ditched all his bad habits for me, transforming himself from a notorious playboy into the perfect boyfriend. But he didn’t know I’d already seen his chat history. “I’m just messing around with her. Are you jealous?” “You’re the only one I’ve ever really loved.” 1. Hearing the bedroom door softly pushed open, I closed my eyes. His footsteps were light, as if afraid to wake me. Ethan was back. He approached cautiously, pulling the comforter higher to cover my exposed shoulder. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel his heavy gaze on my face. I didn’t know what he was thinking right then, but I could smell the faint hint of perfume in the air. It wasn’t strong, yet it made me feel sick to my stomach. I lazily rolled over, burying my face in the blankets, and mumbled sleepily, “You’re back?” “Yeah, did I wake you?” He rubbed his palms together to warm them, then slipped a hand under the covers to check the temperature. His warm fingertips accidentally brushed against my cold calf, and I flinched back. Ethan immediately grasped my leg, his brow furrowing. “You know you get cold easily, why isn’t the heat on?” He grabbed the thermostat remote and adjusted the temperature. Looking back at me, curled up and shivering, he sounded a bit exasperated. “What would you do without me, honestly?” It was a question, but it sounded like he was absolutely convinced I couldn’t live without him. Back in college, Ethan pursued me relentlessly, completely changing his wild ways to focus solely on me. It’s been five years, and supposedly, his love hadn’t faded. His actions had silenced all those who initially doubted and mocked me. Yeah, what would I do without him? Even I had never considered that possibility. So why make me so dependent on him, only to throw me away so cruelly? 2. It took us five years to go from being the couple nobody believed in to the universally acknowledged model pair. I was an orphan with no money or connections; he was the heir to a well-known, wealthy family. Everyone objected to us being together back then, but he insisted, clearing every obstacle in our path before making me his fiancée. He even risked falling out with his family for me, giving up his privileged life to start over from scratch. Even when the Hayes family pushed us into the tightest corner, he never let me suffer in the slightest. He was hitting roadblocks everywhere back then but still refused to listen to his parents and break up with me. So, the Hayes family turned their attention to me. They found me, wanting me to give up voluntarily. Ethan had already shouldered so much; how could I possibly give up? As long as I could be with the man I loved, I figured we could get through anything, even if it meant living like that forever. That’s what I thought at the time. The Hayes family got desperate. If Ethan hadn’t found me in time that afternoon, I might not be alive today. The blows landed on him with dull thuds, like relentless rain. He gritted his teeth and smiled at me. “It’s okay, doesn’t hurt at all… Don’t cry.” He held me securely in his arms, shielding me with his own body, creating a safe space for me. Later, he succeeded, and was accepted back into the family fold. Even though his schedule filled up with endless social obligations and frequent business trips lasting ten days to half a month, he’d thoughtfully bring back gifts and handwritten letters for me. All his social media profiles were filled with pictures of me, loudly and proudly declaring our relationship to the world. That’s when people started to change their tune, started to look at me with respect. They realized Ethan wasn’t just playing around; he genuinely wanted to marry me. I had wondered, too, why Ethan Hayes would single me out. “When you like someone, you just do. Does there have to be a reason?” He had just washed his hair, and beneath the damp strands, his eyes were full of laughter. Later, things got heated in bed, and I forgot about the fleeting hesitation on his face when he answered. Actually, the signs were all there, I just instinctively ignored them. There aren’t that many real-life Cinderella stories. I was just a replacement. The pillowcase wiped away the tear stains from my face. My nose tingled. “Hurry up and shower, let’s get some sleep.” “Yes, ma’am!” 3. The next morning, Ethan was home, which was rare. He was wearing grey loungewear, his long legs stretched out casually, holding a magazine. When I saw the name of the magazine, my expression dimmed slightly. Usually, when we traveled, I was the one who planned everything – time, place, itinerary. He wasn’t the type to leisurely browse through travel guides. Seeing me, he casually flipped the magazine face down. “Why not sleep in a bit longer?” He had an indulgent smile on his face as he sighed and pulled me into his arms. “Have you been unhappy because I haven’t spent much time with you lately? I sensed it last night.” “It’s been really busy. How about I take you on vacation when things calm down?” After five years together, Ethan was still very perceptive about my moods. “No, not at all.” I pretended to be casual, picking up the magazine and pointing to the page he’d been staring at the longest. “Let’s go here then. The scenery looks nice.” It was a quiet island abroad, the picture dominated by shades of blue. It certainly looked like the perfect place for a couple’s getaway. His expression didn’t change as he smiled and ruffled my hair. “Of course, we can. But not right now, it’s just too busy.” Just as he finished speaking, a message alert came through on his phone. Ethan glanced at me before opening it. I gripped the corner of the magazine tightly, my voice almost pleading. “Work will never end. Just spend the next few days with me.” Whatever the news was, he couldn’t suppress the grin spreading across his face as he looked at his phone. “Hmm? What did you say?” It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I let go of the magazine, my voice calm now. “I said, let’s wait until you’re done with work then.” Ethan stood up and kissed me, his eyes filled with barely restrained joy. “We landed the Waterfront deal. I have to step out for a bit.” He knew me well, and I knew him just as well. When it came to company business, he usually kept his emotions in check. Landing a property deal wouldn’t make him this happy. I was sure his joy wasn’t about the deal. I watched his retreating back, lost in thought. It turns out you can tell someone’s mood just by looking at their back. Ethan must be really happy right now. Watching him turn out of the villa’s garden, I grabbed my car keys and followed him. I’d never done anything like tailing someone before; I wasn’t exactly skilled at it. But he, usually so cautious, didn’t notice a thing. The destination wasn’t far: a high-end gourmet grocery store. Standing near the entrance was a girl, constantly looking around, holding two large bags of groceries. Through my car window, I saw Ethan quickly get out of his car and expertly take the bags from her hands. The girl pouted, giving him a playful “what took you so long?” look. That expression… it felt strangely familiar. I stared intently at them, a bitter taste in my mouth. I watched as Ethan freed one hand to hold hers, being incredibly attentive as they crossed the street. In short, he treated her exactly the way he treated me. Their figures disappeared from sight long before I finally drove away. It was only on the way back that it dawned on me: the girl looked so much like I used to. No, it should be: I look like her. 4. In five years together, I could count the times I’d looked at his phone on one hand. Because we loved each other, we gave each other complete trust. But that one time, it felt like even fate couldn’t stand it anymore and decided to give me a hint. He came home very late that night, reeking of alcohol, but unable to hide the excitement in his eyes. Infected by his mood, I smiled and asked him what was up. Ethan froze for a second, then hastily muttered, “Nothing.” While he was showering, his phone, left on the nightstand, buzzed a few times. I hadn’t intended to pay attention, but listening to the running water in the bathroom, possessed by some impulse, I unlocked it. After all these years, the password was still my birthday. The sweetness of that realization hadn’t even settled in before irony slapped me in the face. The sender was listed in his contacts as “Sophia.” “Are you getting serious about that Chloe?” “I’m just messing around with her. Are you jealous?” Then Ethan sent an emoji: a little bunny asking for a hug. It was one I often sent to him. Now he was sending it to another woman. “I’m just worried, you know.” “Don’t worry. You’re the only one I’ve ever really loved.” … Reading that last sentence, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, completely frozen. They were all words I knew, but put together, they looked like blurry black dots. Fighting the sharp pain in my chest, my hand rapidly scrolled up the screen. Their chat history started a month ago. Ethan’s first message was: “You finally decided to unblock me?” “Yeah. Giving you one chance to come see me now. Offer expires soon.” June 8th, 5:45 PM. I remembered that time. I was just about to leave work. A nepo hire in my department had publicly mocked me, saying I was only with Ethan for his money, her words dripping with contempt. I was feeling down and wanted to ask him if he had plans that evening, if he could come home and be with me. But Ethan said he had an emergency business trip and wouldn’t be back until the next morning. When he returned, he brought a huge bouquet of yellow roses and a diamond bracelet, and then spent the next three whole days with me. For the following half-month, he became incredibly busy again; I barely saw him except late at night. Ethan held me close, apologizing over and over. He said it was company dinners, heavy workload, and blamed himself for not being able to spend time with me. I comforted him, understood him, tried to be his calm harbor. But now I know, I wasn’t the harbor; I was part of the “business” that needed entertaining. My fingers ached from scrolling. Over that month, they chatted far more frequently than I’d imagined. From ‘good morning’ to ‘good night,’ detailing every meal, interspersed with memories unique to their past. They were like a couple madly in love, sharing every little detail of their lives. From their chats, I pieced together their history. They were high school sweethearts; Sophia was Ethan’s first love. The Hayes family wouldn’t allow a girl with no beneficial family connections to marry in, so they used some tactics to send Sophia abroad. Without outstanding skills, Sophia struggled overseas and ended up marrying quickly. And the time she got married coincided exactly with when Ethan began his intense pursuit of me. Later, Sophia came back. Ethan specifically chose a condo for her, very close to that gourmet grocery store. They even got a cat and a dog together. He would deliberately make time to take them for vaccinations. Even though he was allergic to cat and dog fur. Matching the dates, my heart sank like a stone. The sound of the shower stopped. I marked the messages as unread and put the phone back where it was. The last message from Sophia was about having period cramps and asking if Ethan could come over and keep her company. I wanted to see what he would do.

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I was reborn. In my last life, I died horribly at the hands of my bully. But fate had other plans, letting me be reborn as that bully’s daughter. “Tiffany Miller, are you ready?” “I’ve come back for my revenge.” 1 “Please, Tiffany, don’t! I’ll die!” I knelt on the floor, begging, just hoping she’d move the already smoking-hot curling iron away from my face. Hearing my pleas, she just smirked cruelly. “Who gave you the guts to flirt with Chad? I’m going to ruin that face of yours right now, see if you dare try it again!” Without hesitation, she pressed the curling iron, heated to 350 degrees, against my cheek. A sizzling sound, followed by a soul-searing pain. I struggled, trying to run, but her two admirers pinned me down hard. I don’t know how long it took, but the smell of burning flesh filled the air. She finally tossed the curling iron aside and looked down at me with a mocking laugh. “Tsk tsk tsk, look at you now, a total freak. Bet you won’t try to hit on Chad anymore.” “Strip her naked! I want to see what kind of slutty heart is hiding under those clothes!” Tiffany’s vicious voice rang out, and her two followers grinned wickedly as they reached for me. I fought back desperately, struggling to escape, but in my panic, I stumbled near the edge. I clung tightly to the ledge – eighteen floors below. I looked at Tiffany with pleading eyes, begging her to pull me up. Click-clack-click-clack She walked towards me in her expensive little shoes, ignoring my desperate gaze. She smiled, then extended her foot and slowly, deliberately, ground her heel onto my fingers. “Sarah, better luck finding a good family next time.” The intense pain forced my fingers to release their grip, and I fell. Looking up at Tiffany and her friends’ laughing faces, I realized my life was nothing more than a joke to them. If there is an afterlife, if I could do it all over again… I would grind Tiffany Miller into dust! 2 “So annoying! What are you crying for, you useless little brat!” The warmth near my lips made me open my eyes. I saw a familiar face, and my pupils contracted. It was Tiffany! She impatiently spoon-fed me some mushy cereal, her movements rough. “What’s the big deal, worthless girl! Hurry up and eat!” Had I been reborn? God finally heard my prayers! I looked at Tiffany’s familiar face and gave her a chilling, slow smile. Long time no see, Tiffany. My smile made her jump, and she let out a shriek. “What are you yelling about! You’ll scare Penny!” an angry female voice snapped. Hearing the voice, Tiffany froze for a couple of seconds, nervously putting the bowl down and forcing a smile. “Nothing, Mom. Penny’s old enough for solid food now, so I made her some warm cereal.” Judging by her reaction, Tiffany seemed really scared of this woman? How ironic. So even she had someone she was afraid of. Remembering what happened in my past life, I reached out with my tiny hand and knocked the cereal bowl over. The hot cereal spilled onto me, but compared to the curling iron from my past life, this heat was nothing. I started wailing at the top of my lungs. Mrs. Miller hurried over. Seeing the spilled cereal on me, her eyes turned red with anger. She grabbed Tiffany and slapped her hard across the face. “Damn you! How dare you try to hurt my granddaughter!” Tiffany clutched her stinging cheek, forcing a fawning expression. “Mom, how could I? It was just… Penny wasn’t eating properly, so I scolded her a little. I didn’t expect her to throw a tantrum and spill it herself.” Mrs. Miller opened my clothes, revealing the red, swollen skin underneath. Her anger flared even more. I struggled, reaching my arms out to Mrs. Miller, my eyes filled with tears. “Grandma, hold me… scared…” Mrs. Miller’s heart melted. She picked me up gently, cooing softly, then turned and slapped Tiffany again, yelling, “Don’t think I didn’t hear you call my granddaughter a ‘worthless girl’! You bitch, scalding my granddaughter like this!” “Wait till Kevin gets home, I’ll make him divorce you! If you hadn’t gotten knocked up before you were married, I would never have let a trashy bitch like you into my family! You rotten-hearted creature, daring to harm my granddaughter!” I never thought Tiffany would see a day like this. Thinking this, I raised an eyebrow slightly and giggled at her. Hearing my giggle, Tiffany looked like she’d seen a ghost and shrieked again. “A ghost! Mom! She’s a ghost! She just raised her eyebrow at me! She’s not my daughter!” Mrs. Miller’s face turned livid. Holding me with one arm, she grabbed an ashtray with the other and hurled it at Tiffany. “What nonsense are you talking!” Hit squarely by the ashtray, Tiffany stared at me, her eyes filled with terror. I gave her a wicked smile. This was just the beginning. 3 Sure enough, her expression turned even more fearful, and she started shouting hysterically. I chose that moment to yawn, burying my head in Mrs. Miller’s shoulder and whimpering pitifully, “Grandma… noisy… can’t sleep.” Hearing my voice, Mrs. Miller frowned at the screaming Tiffany. “Lock her in her room! Don’t let her disturb my granddaughter’s sleep!” Watching the maids forcibly drag Tiffany away, I felt a surge of satisfaction. In the past, whenever she bullied me, she’d make up excuses to lure me to the rooftop. If I refused, she’d send a gang of people to drag me there. Now, she got a taste of her own medicine. When I woke up, my nominal father had come home from work. He walked towards me, beaming. I instinctively flinched. It was one of the guys who had held me down on the rooftop – Kevin Miller. I couldn’t believe Tiffany had actually married him. “Penny, did you miss Daddy?” He picked me up and tossed me playfully in the air. I squeezed my eyes shut instinctively. Because he used to throw me just like that, into dark, disgusting storm drains. Down there, rats and roaches crawled all over me. I could only hope someone would pass by and rescue me. Hearing Kevin’s voice from downstairs, Tiffany ignored the maids trying to stop her and ran out, throwing herself into Kevin’s arms, tears streaming down her face. “Kevin! She’s not our daughter! She’s a devil! She smiled at me today!” Hearing Tiffany’s rambling, Kevin’s face darkened instantly. “Kids smile, it’s normal! Tiffany, how could you call your own daughter a devil!” “You’ll scare Penny!” “That’s not all! Today she spilled hot cereal all over Penny, and then blamed Penny for spilling it herself!” Mrs. Miller took me from him, glaring fiercely at Tiffany. Speaking of which, I decided to add fuel to the fire. I buried my face in Mrs. Miller’s shoulder and mumbled, “Hurt… Mommy called me… worthless girl.” Tiffany spun around, staring hard at my face. Then she suddenly lunged, grabbing my throat. “You’re lying! Who are you! Get out of my daughter’s body!” I immediately started crying loudly. Kevin violently pulled Tiffany off me, shoving her to the ground. His face was dark and terrifying as he growled through clenched teeth, “Are you insane!” “Penny is your own daughter!” Shoved unexpectedly to the floor, Tiffany stared in disbelief. “Kevin, you actually pushed me!” “You dared to push me!” “Do you want me to tell everyone what happened back then—” Before she could finish, Kevin slapped her hard across the face, knocking her down again. Hmm? Enjoying the show, my ears perked up. What happened back then? 4 “Someone get this crazy woman out of here and lock her in her room! Spouting nonsense like that!” Kevin was clearly afraid Tiffany would spill something important. The maids swarmed forward, grabbing Tiffany and dragging her towards her room. Seeing her pathetic state, a smirk unconsciously formed on my lips. She looked up and saw my smirk. She didn’t even need the maids to drag her anymore; she scrambled back to her room on her own. “Our Penny is the cutest, how could she be a devil?” Listening to Kevin coo like he was talking to a baby, I smiled, but the smile didn’t reach my eyes. Of course, I’m a devil. A devil who’s going to take all your lives. The next morning, Kevin went to work, and Mrs. Miller went off to join her friends for their community dance group. After everyone left, Tiffany crept downstairs cautiously. She glanced at me warily, then pulled out her phone and made a call. Soon, a man dressed in yellow robes arrived – some kind of spiritualist or exorcist. He went around the entire house, plastering paper charms everywhere, even sticking several onto me. I watched the “master” dance around a small brazier filled with burning coals while Tiffany knelt beside it, muttering something under her breath. “Master, I don’t know what demon or ghost has possessed my daughter’s body, but you must drive it out!” Tiffany stared intently at my face, as if searching for some sign. The master glanced at me. “There is a malicious spirit inside her.” I raised an eyebrow slightly. This guy had some nerve, at least. The next second, the master shook his head. “This is a vengeful spirit you harmed in a past life. I’m afraid it won’t be easy to deal with.” Me: …Liar. Hearing it wouldn’t be easy, Tiffany clung to him like a lifeline. “Master, I’ll pay more! Extra!” Satisfied with her response, the master smoothed his brow and casually tossed a stack of paper charms into the brazier. “Alright, let’s all go outside now. When the fire burns out, the evil entity will naturally be expelled.” I tilted my head, watching Tiffany look back nervously as she left, and gave her a smile. She stumbled backward in fear and practically crawled out the door. Once everyone was gone, I crawled over to the sofa. A brightly colored silk scarf lay there. I pulled it down and tossed it into the brazier, watching the flames leap higher. It was Mrs. Miller’s favorite scarf; she’d forgotten it when she went out dancing today. I casually glanced at the living room clock. About time. Mrs. Miller should be back soon. I placed my hand over the brazier. The tongues of flame licked at my skin, pain shooting through me. But compared to the pain of falling eighteen stories, this was nothing. Just then, Mrs. Miller’s confused voice came from the doorway. “What’s everyone doing standing out here?” “Where’s Penny? Did you leave Penny inside alone?” Hearing this, I summoned all my strength and burst into tears. Mrs. Miller rushed in and scooped me into her arms. Seeing the burn on my hand, her eyes reddened with distress. “Penny, sweetie, don’t cry. Tell Grandma what happened.” Sobbing, I pointed at the fake master. “Said I… vengeful spirit… burn me… Mommy found him…” Hearing my description, Mrs. Miller flew into a rage. She grabbed Tiffany and started slapping her face furiously. “You bitch! I think you’re the vengeful spirit! Always scheming to hurt my granddaughter! Today you even conspired with this fraud to try and burn Penny alive!” Nestled in Mrs. Miller’s arms, I shot Tiffany a gloating smile. Seeing it, Tiffany ignored the slaps and pointed frantically at me. “She smiled! She smiled! Master! Burn her quickly! I’ll give you more money!” Hearing Tiffany dare to say such things right in front of her, Mrs. Miller turned purple with rage and slapped her even harder. In just a few seconds, Tiffany’s face swelled up like a pig’s. Soon, Kevin came home. Seeing the burn on my hand, he asked with a pained expression how it happened. I took his hand and wobbled towards the brazier, mumbling indistinctly, “Grandma… scarf… fall in fire… I get.” Without hesitation, I pushed his hand down onto the still-hot coals in the brazier, making it look like I was showing him how I tried to retrieve the scarf. Although the flames were out, the coals were still scorching. He screamed in pain, desperately trying to pull his hand away, but I held it down firmly. Just like he had held me down back then. The sound of flesh searing on the hot coals sizzled through the air, mixed with Kevin’s agonized cries. “Mom! Help me!” Mrs. Miller finally snapped out of it and rushed forward to pull Kevin’s hand away from mine. “Penny, tell Grandma why you pushed Daddy’s hand down?” Because your son did the same thing to me. I turned my head away, and when I looked back, my eyes were filled with tears. “Grandma’s favorite scarf… and Mommy said… burn me… but it hurt too much… scared to burn myself.” After saying this, I clung tightly to Mrs. Miller’s clothes, hiding behind her and staring fearfully in Tiffany’s direction. “Mom! This little demon is lying! She’s lying!” Tiffany slurred, her face swollen and red. “You really are insane!” Seeing Tiffany still spouting nonsense, Kevin gritted his teeth and used his good hand to slap her several more times. “Divorce! I’m divorcing you!” Tiffany let out a wail, finally unable to take it anymore, and burst out cursing, “You dare divorce me! Kevin Miller, you good-for-nothing bastard!” “When that little bitch Sarah died, if I hadn’t suggested pinning it all on Rick Quinn, you’d be the one in jail right now!”

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I had severe lung disease, and the doctors told my family they needed to find two living donors for me. I had to laugh darkly. The doctors had no idea what kind of monsters my family really were. My husband wanted a divorce, my mom didn’t want to pay the medical bills, my step-uncle wanted my dead body for some creepy arrangement, my own uncle wanted to sell my corneas… Later, one of them gave me their lungs. 1 When I opened my eyes, I found myself floating mid-air, light as a feather, unable to touch the ground. I thought I was dead, but when I looked down, my body was still lying right there on the hospital bed. The monitor next to me showed my stats were low, but stable. The divorce papers Mark gave me were still sitting on the bedside table. So what was going on? Was I dying but not quite dead yet? “Mrs. Miller, your daughter’s medical bills are seriously overdue.” I heard the doctor’s voice from outside the door. I drifted through the wall towards the sound and saw my mom talking with him. “Well, Doctor, you see, my son is getting married soon, and we really need the money…” Mom looked incredibly stressed. “Is your daughter’s life less important than your son’s wedding?” The doctor sounded angry, his eyes filled with disbelief. “Don’t you understand? Your daughter is in the final stages.” I let out a cold laugh. I told him last night. This family of mine, not a decent one among them. Just a pack of wolves waiting to devour you. When I was little, my stepbrother could eat all the cookies he wanted. If I even touched one, Mom would scold me for being selfish. “Also, your daughter’s condition is critical. The waitlist for a deceased donor lung is very long. You should see if family members can get tested for compatibility.” “Tested? You mean, for us to donate a lung?” “Yes, it’s the fastest option. A living donation is complex, and it can impact the donor’s future health significantly, which is why we need two donors…” The doctor was still patiently explaining, but Mom cut him off impatiently. “Doctor, I just remembered I have something urgent at home. I have to go.” Before the words were even out, Mom was already rushing towards the elevator. My body floated after her, uncontrollably following her inside. Behind us, I heard the doctor talking to a nurse. “Just mentioning compatibility testing and she runs off like that. It’s unbelievable.” The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off their conversation. It was just Mom and me in the elevator. She was staring down at her phone. I drifted closer, waving my hand in front of her face. She just kept staring intently at the screen, totally unaware of me. On the screen was a text she was typing out. [The doctor says Ellie needs surgery now. Can’t wait for a deceased donor. Need family members to get tested for compatibility, need two people.] She typed it, deleted it, typed it again, and in the end, never sent it. 2 I followed her home. The house was dimly lit, the only light coming from the harsh glow of her phone screen. A piercing ringtone shattered the silence. Mom snatched up the phone, her face lighting up with undisguised joy. “Hello, honey? What’s up?” “Oh, right, you need to book the venue tomorrow? Okay, okay.” “Money? Yeah, we have the money… Son, let me tell you something, your sister… she needs someone to donate a lung…” Leo’s grating voice boomed through the phone. “Donate what lung? Like hell I’m gonna be that idiot.” “Don’t even think about asking me. I’m only in my twenties, my whole life ahead of me. What happens to me if I donate a lung?” “That’s not what Mom meant…” Mom’s voice grew weaker. A woman’s voice cut in sharply, “Mom, Leo and I are getting married soon! On our happy occasion, why are you bringing up such depressing stuff?” From the sound of it, it must be Leo’s fiancée. “Good that you didn’t mean it! Don’t you dare think about using my wedding money to treat that stepsister of his. I promised my wife-to-be a huge, grand wedding, you hear me?” “I hear you.” I snorted. What wedding money? It was just Mom’s retirement savings. Looking back at Mom, bowing her head subserviently, a strange sense of satisfaction washed over me. So, she could be pushed around too. I thought she was always the domineering and forceful type, at least when she dealt with me. I really was Leo’s “cheap” stepsister. When I was ten, my biological father passed away from illness. Mom remarried, bringing me along. Leo was my stepfather’s son. My stepfather ignored me, but Leo was always hostile, even though I couldn’t take anything that was rightfully his. He still saw me as an enemy. As if my very existence was some shameful secret. He hung up abruptly. Mom stared at the black screen, lost in thought, silent for a long time. 3 The doorbell rang. Mom hurried eagerly to open it. It was my step-uncle. Oh, right. My stepfather’s older brother, Uncle Bill. Uncle Bill barged in, kicked off his leather shoes right inside the door, slipped on some house slippers, and shuffled swaggeringly into the living room. He plopped down right next to where I was floating. As soon as he sat, he muttered something about feeling a weird chill. I reached out a finger and lightly brushed the back of his neck. He shuddered involuntarily. He got a little scared and switched places with Mom. I giggled silently. Even my typically rude and boorish uncle could be so easily spooked. Mom went to the kitchen to cut fruit. Uncle Bill stuffed his face, only speaking after he finished a large chunk. “Alright, I won’t beat around the bush. I hear Ellie’s about to kick the bucket, right?” Mom’s face changed, turning stony. “Thanks for your concern.” Uncle Bill didn’t catch the sarcasm and continued, “Listen, there’s this family back in my hometown, they’re looking for a match… thought I’d mention it for Ellie.” “That’s very kind of you, but Ellie isn’t even divorced yet,” Mom said, her expression softening slightly. “No, you misunderstand. It’s a posthumous marriage.” Having said that, Uncle Bill swallowed a huge piece of cantaloupe. Mom’s hand paused mid-cut. She stammered, “A… posthumous… marriage?” (Translator’s note: Rewriting the culturally specific ‘ghost marriage’ slightly to ‘posthumous marriage’ for clarity, while keeping the morbid intent.) “Yeah! Ay, you women wouldn’t understand.” Uncle Bill waved his hand dismissively and took another big bite of melon. “These arrangements are quite common now, don’t be so old-fashioned.” “Isn’t Ellie’s husband talking about divorce? Once Ellie’s gone, she’ll be all alone, so lonely. Wouldn’t it be great to find her a ghost husband? Maybe they’ll hit it off in the afterlife, hahaha.” “I’m basically Ellie’s uncle, right? I’m just thinking of her best interests, hahaha.” Uncle Bill laughed heartily while Mom’s face grew paler and paler. After a moment, Mom forced out one word through gritted teeth, “No.” Uncle Bill’s expression shifted instantly, his tone becoming aggressive. “I’m being nice to you because you’re my brother’s wife. Don’t push it.” “Fine, fine, it’s about the money, isn’t it? The money from the arrangement, we split it fifty-fifty. That work?” Mom still only had one word. “No.” Uncle Bill lost his patience. He started ranting about how Mom brought me, a “burden,” into their family, how I wasn’t just bad luck for my own dad but cursed his brother too. And now, all he was asking was for the “burden” daughter to help the family earn a little cash, because his own son needed money to grease some wheels for a spot at a big company. “You just want to use Ellie to get bribe money for your son’s job?” Mom looked genuinely shocked. I kicked my spectral feet up, lounging mid-air. Seen it all before. Ever since I was little, Mom constantly told me to give way to Uncle Bill’s son so she could maintain her standing in my stepfather’s family. It didn’t matter if he pulled my hair during fights or threw my only doll into the dumpster. Mom always told me to forgive him, otherwise, it would damage her position with her in-laws. To secure her footing, she just needed to sacrifice me. What a bargain. She was smart enough to figure that out. So I didn’t understand why she was saying no now. After chewing Mom out, Uncle Bill grabbed a bag of fruit on his way out. I floated after him and smacked the back of his head. He flinched, startled, and cursed loudly. I almost wished I’d touched his neck a few more times. At least give him nightmares for a while. 4 Uncle Bill left, and then my maternal uncle arrived. Uncle Joe. Uncle Joe walked right in wearing his street shoes and sat on the sofa. I floated over and touched the back of his neck. He shivered violently and demanded Mom open all the curtains, windows, and turn on all the lights. Even after the room was brightly lit, he still looked around suspiciously. Mom always trusted her side of the family. She took the best grapes out of the fridge – those fancy green ones – washed them, and served them to Uncle Joe. He didn’t hold back, stuffing his mouth full, mumbling something unintelligibly. Mom smiled gently, telling him to finish eating before talking. “Hey, Sis, is Ellie… pretty much done for?” Uncle Joe asked after swallowing a huge mouthful of grapes. Mom froze, then nodded slowly, a strange, unreadable emotion in her eyes. “Ellie, she…” Mom’s lips moved, finally forming two words, but Uncle Joe cut her off. “Sis, people die, you can’t bring them back. But hey, even after someone’s dead, they can still be useful, right?” “My daughter isn’t dead yet,” Mom whispered, her face instantly turning ghostly pale. Uncle Joe paused, then quickly agreed, “Oh, right, not dead yet. But it’s close, isn’t it? What I mean is, besides her lungs being shot, other parts of Ellie are still good, right?” His shifty eyes stared at Mom, full of calculation. Mom pressed her lips together tightly, saying nothing. Uncle Joe dropped the pretense, leaning back into the sofa like he owned the place. “Sis, you know my daughter found a good job, right? But now, she needs a good husband.” “And what do you need to find a good husband? A polished appearance! Designer bags, fancy clothes… my precious girl just needs a little cash to spruce herself up.” “Look at Ellie, always looking drab. That’s why she ended up with a broke husband, just gets laughed at.” He leaned closer to Mom. “My daughter is your niece. You don’t want her to be laughed at like Ellie, do you?” “We don’t have much money, so we were thinking… after Ellie passes, maybe donate her corneas. We’d, you know, receive a little something for our trouble.” Uncle Joe slapped his thigh, as if making a great sacrifice. “After all, I found the buyer. Ellie just provides the corneas. I’ll make the call – how about we split it seventy-thirty? I get seventy, you get thirty.” He looked at Mom expectantly. I remembered when I was little, whenever Mom bought something nice, she’d take it to Uncle Joe’s house first. My cousin Jessica had a nasty mouth and loved joining others in insulting me. “You’re such an embarrassment, following your aunt like a piece of baggage! Why don’t you just die?” One time I couldn’t take it anymore. I gathered all my strength and spat right in Jessica’s face. She burst into tears. Mom saw it, rushed over, and slapped me hard. “Why are you so naughty? Always bullying your cousin!” “She started it, she called me names!” “Shut up.” Mom always tried to make me understand her. “You need to get along with Jessica. Mom needs help from her family relatives later on. Uncle Joe will help you too.” “If you make Uncle Joe angry, Mom will only have you left. What will we do then? No one will help us.” I really wanted to tell her, even if she got down on her knees and acted like Uncle Joe’s dog, if our family ever faced real trouble, Uncle Joe’s family wouldn’t lift a finger. Mom stared at Uncle Joe, her face white as a sheet. She only managed to say, “How could you do something like this?” Uncle Joe waved his hand dismissively. “Sis, you’re old enough to know better. When you’re dead, you’re dead. It all turns to ash anyway, who cares about a few organs?” Before leaving, Uncle Joe added a pointed reminder, “Ellie probably doesn’t have many days left. You need to decide quickly. Corneas need to be… fresh.” I plucked a stray hair and tucked it inside Uncle Joe’s shirt collar. He started itching all over but couldn’t find the source, scratching himself like a monkey as he walked away.

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