1 The heiress to a tech mogul’s vast fortune in New York had pursued me for five years, but I’d never given her the time of day. I was just one of the 'groom lottery' contestants she’d curated for her eccentric, highly publicized selection process. Whoever was drawn on the eve of the wedding would become the mogul’s daughter’s husband. And I knew, with chilling certainty, I’d be the one chosen. After all, I’d died once before. In my past life, she had chosen me, and I’d become the groom, the focus of everyone’s envious gaze. On our wedding day, she’d drunk too much, missed a call from her adopted brother, Ethan, and he’d died of a heart attack. The morning after, in the stark chill of the morgue, she’d pinned me down, gripped my hair, and forced me to kneel, my forehead hitting the cold tile a thousand times before him. "Why did you tamper with the drawing?" she’d shrieked, her voice raw. "You knew my heart belonged to Ethan! If I'd drawn the empty slip, I could have married him! He touched your suit, crying, just before he died. He was the one I was meant to marry!" "You were just a pawn, a flimsy excuse to make Ethan jealous," she’d snarled, spitting out the words. "Did you truly believe you belonged in our lives?" Trapped in that sterile, chilling room, I was forced to endure her feverish declarations of twisted affection for her adopted brother. She had them crush my fingers, simply because I'd worn the wedding ring she'd intended for him. She had me stripped bare and thrown into the river, just for wearing a suit that had belonged to him. And finally, she had me nailed into a coffin, suffocating me alive. When I next opened my eyes, my body was whole, yes, but the raw, phantom agony of those memories had clung to me, relentless, for five harrowing years. This time, I would rewrite the ending. I’d swapped the order of the slips, ensuring she’d draw the empty one. From that moment on, their twisted drama would have nothing to do with me. "Ms. Sterling's chosen slip reveals... an empty draw!" The ninety-nine men gathered understood: Sophia drawing an empty slip meant they’d all lost their chance to become the tech heiress’s husband. "What the hell is this?!" someone roared, tearing their slip to shreds. "It's rigged! This whole lottery is a sham!" Another started to yell, but a hand clamped over his mouth. "You got a death wish? We all knew we were just here to fill seats. Haven't you seen the way Sophia looks at Ethan? It’s sickening. If she didn’t draw the empty slip, and one of us got picked? We’d be screwed!" The man spat, "But Ethan's her brother..." "So what if he's her brother?" the other hissed back. "No blood relation means they can legally marry. We're just window dressing. If you ask me, the only one who could get picked and still walk away clean is Liam Foster, Number One." I calmly tore up the slip marked 'Number One' in my hand, a physiological tremor running through my muscles, as if the pain from before still clung to me. Sophia’s pupils contracted to pinpricks, a surge of raw excitement electrifying her. She shot to her feet, abandoning all pretense, and launched herself into Ethan’s arms. "Ethan, this time I chose you. You’re not getting away from me." Ethan’s face flushed. He tried to push her away, but she held him tighter. "But I only see you as a sister, Sophia." "It’s fine. You’ll get used to it," she purred, tracing his cheek. "This is destiny." Sophia cupped his face, her eyes sweeping over me with an icy glare. A jolt of unease shot through me, raising the hairs on my neck. I instinctively straightened my back. Could Sophia have also been reborn? Even if she had, I owed her nothing. This time, I’d given her what she wanted. Finally, I was free! From the head table, Eleanor Sterling cleared her throat, a flicker of panic in her eyes. "Sophia, I never imagined out of ninety-nine slips you’d draw an empty one. It seems you and Ethan truly are meant to be." She paused, her voice a little strained. "But this is… unexpected. I need to inform your father." Sophia’s lips curved into an irrepressible smirk. "Fine." She shot me a triumphant glance. "As for the rest of these men, they’re welcome to stay at the Sterling estate until after Ethan and I are married. Consider it compensation." Sophia expected me to look dejected, to shed tears. But I didn't. I simply smiled and applauded, just like everyone else. In my previous life, I had wept with joy when chosen, only to see Sophia's face, paler than a corpse. Her gaze had been fixed solely on Ethan, not a single glance spared for me. Reborn, I wouldn’t make the same pathetic mistake of clinging to her. On the stage, an inexplicable surge of anger twisted her features. She grabbed Ethan by the hand, declared, "Time for a date!" and stormed off. With the main characters gone, the other ninety-eight men quickly dispersed, like a flock of startled birds. I was just about to head back and pack my bags when Eleanor Sterling pulled me aside into a secluded corner. Before I could even react, a stinging slap landed across my face. "You damn brat! I arranged for Sophia to pick you! How in God's name did it turn into an empty slip?!" 2 The words barely left her lips before another vicious slap followed. "You're just as thankless and ungrateful as your deadbeat father! I'm your mother, not some stranger off the street! I told you to listen to me, and you just let it go in one ear and out the other, didn't you?!" My cheeks burned, but my heart ached far more. "The day you brought Ethan, your love child from that affair, into this family and married Mr. Sterling, that was the day you ceased to be my mother." Eleanor’s eyes flickered, then hardened into a cruel, unyielding gaze. "If Ethan gets hurt because of your decision, you'll pay with your life." Only when I was nailed into that coffin in my past life did I learn the lottery results had always been fixed. Eleanor had always wanted Ethan to marry into the Sterling family, but she had a secret about him she needed to keep hidden. And I, Liam Foster, was meant to be the sacrifice for that secret. Now, all I wanted was to watch them destroy each other. Their secrets meant nothing to me. I rubbed my stinging cheek, my gaze a chilling void. "I'm going to marry someone else. Serena Thorne. Consider it repayment for all the money you’ve spent keeping my father on life support all these years." Eleanor’s eyes narrowed slightly. Serena Thorne, a name whispered with a mix of awe and fear in the city’s elite circles. Rumor had it she was infertile, notoriously eccentric, and played the field with a ruthless charm, leaving a trail of broken hearts and ruined lives in her wake. She was reportedly looking for a husband recently, to finally 'settle down' and embrace domesticity. If I didn't choose someone, Eleanor would surely force me to marry some old hag. Naming Serena Thorne beforehand was a strategic move. Because I already knew, Serena Thorne was anything but simple. A predatory smile touched Eleanor’s lips. "Alright, obedient boy. Then just relax and wait for your wedding." Eleanor swayed off, her hips swiveling. I sighed. My room was in the westernmost wing of the Sterling mansion, and I had to pass through the garden to get there. The garden was a chaotic scene now. Ethan sneezed, muffled, into his hand. "Sophia, who planted this lavender? Don't they know I'm allergic?" Sophia tenderly pressed her own handkerchief to his nose. Then, she turned to the gardener, her voice sharp. "Get rid of this lavender patch. Use the shredder! And this swing set, all those messy bird nests? Clear them out!" That lavender patch was from seeds my father had collected when he was lucid, found by the roadside. He’d said that even after he was gone, the flowers would remain. My eyes widened as I watched the gardener raise his shovel. "Wait!" Everyone froze, stealing glances at Sophia for her reaction. She watched me, her expression unreadable. "Do you think this is your house, where you can plant whatever you want? Or are you just trying to make Ethan sick?" When I was five, my father was gravely ill. I snuck into the Sterling estate, desperate for Eleanor to save him. She had wanted to send me away, but Mr. Sterling found out. He’d said it was fine to take in a few children like me, a gesture of charity. And so, I’d lived here for twenty years. Sophia, who used to play with me and the staff, had once said the Sterling estate would always be my home. There was a small wooden sign by that patch, hand-written by a young Sophia: "Liam and Sophia's Secret Spot. Forever Home." I lowered my gaze, ignoring the decaying wooden sign, and bowed deeply. "Ms. Sterling, Young Master Ethan, I apologize. I was out of line. But please, don't destroy my flowers. I’ll clean them up…" My bow seemed to throw Sophia off guard. Ethan suddenly began to tremble. "Sophia, I’m so dizzy." His shaking voice snapped Sophia back to reality. She waved her hand. "What are you waiting for? Get to work!" The lush lavender was swallowed by the shredder, turning into a gruesome purple pulp. "No!" I threw myself forward, a desperate, reckless leap, grasping at whatever I could. Sophia shrieked, letting go of Ethan, who stumbled back and hit a tree trunk. "Are you out of your mind?!" she cried, her eyes blazing as she pulled me back. Then she saw the single lavender blossom and the decaying wooden sign clutched in my palm. "You…" Tears streamed down my face. "You said you couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd plant the lavender Dad gave me to help you rest." The wooden sign crumbled to dust in my hands. "Sophia, I have no home anymore." Sophia froze, reaching out as if to pull me into her arms. But then, Ethan screamed. From the birdhouse I’d built myself, high in the tree, clumps of caterpillars rained down onto Ethan. 3 Sophia’s eyes narrowed. She quickly stepped forward, pulling Ethan away. The caterpillars had a mild toxin, but Sophia, without hesitation, used her bare hands to pick them off his clothes. Then she turned, her face contorted with disgust, and looked at me. "I almost fell for your act." "You like throwing bugs, do you? Fine. You all! Pick up those bugs and stuff them into his clothes!" A few maids, eager to please, began gathering the crawling insects. The gardener held me in a viselike grip. "I didn't! How could it be me?!" Sophia scoffed, saying nothing. Of course. She hadn't trusted me in years. Otherwise, in my past life, she wouldn’t have condemned me without question, convinced I’d rigged the lottery. I’d almost let the lingering kindness of her family accepting me sway me into warning her about Ethan's secret. But now, I regretted it. I wanted to see her descend into madness when she discovered the truth. I simply gave up, letting the caterpillars swarm over me. Where they touched, my skin swelled, itching unbearably. Ethan, having composed himself, tugged on Sophia’s sleeve. "Sophia, isn't this too much? I'm fine now." "Ethan, you're just too soft, that's why people take advantage of you. Come on, I’ll take you to the doctor." She led Ethan away, passing me without a glance. Freed from the gardener's grasp, I collapsed to the ground. My fingers, curled tightly in suppressed agony, dug deep into the mud, staining them black with dirt and blood. Because of Sophia, no one would dare help me. So I had to endure the revulsion and pain, picking off the insects myself, before shakily making my way to the family doctor. As I entered, I saw Sophia applying ointment to Ethan behind a privacy curtain. It was just an ointment application, yet I heard Sophia's soft gasps from behind the curtain. When she finally drew it back, Ethan was breathless behind her, and her face was flushed. Her fingers were still coated with the ointment. Sophia’s gaze swept over my raw, swollen neck. She tossed the bottle of ointment at me. I was a step too slow, and the glass vial shattered on the floor, the liquid spilling everywhere. "Don't you dare go to the doctor. You only deserve to use filth." In the Sterling household, in all of New York, she was queen. If she said I couldn't see a doctor, no doctor would even look at me. I knelt on the ground, using my mud-stained hands to scoop up the spilled ointment and smear it on myself. I looked up to see Sophia gently sanitizing Ethan’s hands. "Sophia, I'm leaving the Sterling estate." Nine-year-old Sophia had promised me a home, but now that home was gone. It was time to say goodbye. Sophia finished cleaning Ethan’s hands, then lightly kissed his fingertips. Her expression barely changed. "Say that again." I took a deep breath. "I said, you and Young Master Ethan are getting married. And I'm nothing more than an outsider. I should leave, just like the ninety-eight other candidates." My voice hardened. "Sophia, this isn't a request. It's a notification." "Notification?!" Sophia’s voice rose, a tone she didn't seem to notice. "Liam Foster, is your comatose father ready to give up on treatment?" She spoke to me in a near-threat. My body stiffened, trembling with memories from my past life. She had once embraced me, then with an icy hand, pushed me into a coffin. Too bad Sophia, for all her arrogance, couldn’t imagine I was about to be married. In the past, whenever Sophia and I argued, I would always threaten to leave the Sterling estate to make her relent. But now, I didn't need her to back down. I really was leaving. When I remained silent, Sophia scoffed. "If you're scared, then just stay here. Ethan needs a personal valet. Especially on our wedding night, you can be here to serve our needs." Ethan’s face flushed. He hugged Sophia tightly. "Sophia, is that really appropriate?" His hand was caught by Sophia, who then stood up. "Why are you blushing? Come on, let's go have some fun." Ethan's dress shoe kicked me as he passed, sending me sprawling into the glass shards. Using medical tweezers, I carefully picked the fragments from my leg, then haphazardly applied some ointment. I returned to the room I'd lived in for twenty years. I tried to pack my belongings, like the protagonists in novels I’d read. But then I realized there was nothing that truly belonged to me. Sophia used to take photos with me all the time. But at some point, the people in those pictures had stopped aging, stuck ten years in the past. Ethan had been abroad for ten years, and she had yearned for him that entire decade. The hidden room in her wedding suite was plastered wall-to-wall with photos of Ethan, secretly taken by private investigators. I stuffed my identification into my pocket, then sat bewildered on the edge of the bed. My phone vibrated. A message from the hospital attendant. "Mr. Foster, your father just regained a bit of consciousness! He's calling your name!" 4 I limped to the hospital. As I approached, I heard my father, lying in his hospital bed, softly calling my name. This had never happened in my previous life. In that timeline, at this very moment, the power had gone out in the hospital, and my father had died within a minute without his ventilator. For someone in a vegetative state, any change like this was a miracle. Maybe, just maybe, I’d live to see my father open his eyes. The attendant, sensing the moment, discreetly slipped out. I sat by the bed, holding my father’s hand. "I'm leaving the Sterling estate. From now on, those people mean nothing to me." I choked up. "I'm sorry, I couldn't save the lavender you gave me." My voice broke. "Dad, please, can you wake up and tell me where you found those seeds?" I lowered my head, letting the tears stream freely. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. I looked all over for you. Turns out you were here, mourning." Ethan strolled in, arms crossed, a smirk twisting his lips as he eyed me. I wiped my tears. "What do you want?" Ethan lifted his foot and casually kicked the hospital bed. The monitors, a tangle of wires, began to shriek, their frantic beeps echoing the chaos. He tilted his chin up arrogantly. "Mommy told me you're going to marry that freak?" I said nothing, watching him warily. "Normally, who you marry, even if it's a beggar, wouldn't concern me. But I hear you know my secret?" "I won't say anything." Ethan laughed, a harsh, dismissive sound. "How can I be sure you won't? If you tell, Sophia will abandon me instantly!" His eyes reddened. "You have to die for me to feel safe!" With a flick of his wrist, a blade slid from his sleeve, aimed straight for me. I instinctively recoiled, falling backward onto my father's still form. Ethan was anything but delicate. His fingers, surprisingly strong, gripped the blade, poised to slit my throat. Suddenly, a dry, pale hand clamped onto Ethan's wrist. I heard the monitor next to my ear scream, a deafening shriek. The doctors had said the prelude to a patient waking was a sudden surge in the machine's sounds. I whirled around. "Dad?" My father’s eyes remained closed, but his hand had instinctively stopped Ethan from harming me. "Don't... you... touch... my... son." The click of high heels echoed, growing closer. In a flash, Ethan cut his own fingertip with the blade and shoved it into my father's hand. Tears poured down his face. "Don't kill me—" The next moment, he was in Sophia’s arms, clinging to her like a lifeline. "Sophia, Liam’s dad is trying to kill me… I only came to see him because I heard he might wake up. Did I do something wrong?" Ethan’s eyes were misty, a single drop of blood on his finger igniting Sophia’s fury. She gripped my wrist, her single hand threatening to crush my jaw. "Are you trying to kill Ethan again?!" "I’ve paid for your father's treatment for years! Is this how you repay me?!" I shook my head violently. "I didn't! It wasn't me..." Sophia laughed, a sound like a banshee in hell. "Yes, this time it wasn't you. It was your father." A cold dread settled deep in my gut. I immediately dropped to my knees, my head hitting the floor in frantic pleas. "It wasn't my dad! He's in a coma, he doesn't know anything!" "Ethan tried to kill me! It was him!" Ethan immediately retorted, "I didn't! Sophia, you know I faint at the sight of blood." He promptly clutched his forehead. Sophia, seeing this, believed him even more. Her eyes fell on the blade in my father's hand. She gritted her teeth and nodded. "Good. Very good…" With that, she ripped out my father's ventilator plug. The flatline beep, a piercing shriek in my ears, tore through the silence. I scrambled up, trying to plug the device back in, but she kicked me to the ground. "No! Sophia, please, I'm begging you! My dad will die in a minute without that ventilator!" "Hit me, kill me! I beg you, just don't hurt my father!" Sophia looked down at me, a cold disdain in her eyes. "Dying is the easy way out. Don’t think I don’t know. Someone in a coma won’t die in just ten minutes without a ventilator. This is just a punishment for you." With that, she calmly contacted the hospital to have the power to the room cut for ten minutes. Sophia, arm in arm with Ethan, looked back at me. "Tomorrow, on my wedding night, you'll be here to serve our needs." Her lips curved in a cruel smile. "If you're not, just wait and see." I crawled to my father’s bedside, tears streaming down my face, desperately trying to breathe life back into him. But it was useless. Ten minutes later, the power was restored. The moment I reconnected the ventilator, I saw the flat line on the heart monitor. My father was dead. My father, whom I’d lived like a dog for, dependent on their charity, was dead. I sat numbly by the hospital bed, when I suddenly heard footsteps again. My eyes were red from crying. I looked up. "Can you do me a favor?" As if to prove a point, Sophia’s wedding was even more lavish than the one in my previous life. Even Ethan’s tie clip, on his custom-tailored suit, was worth millions, glittering under the chandeliers. As they made their grand entrance, Sophia instinctively scanned the room, not finding me in the pre-assigned seat. Not until the vows were exchanged and the ninety-eight 'lottery' men began toasting the happy couple did she finally ask, "Where's Liam?" Man of number twenty-five thought for a moment. "You mean the number one guy? Haven't seen him." But Sophia frowned, correcting him. "He has a name. He’s not 'number one'." Twenty-five nodded blankly, watching Sophia walk away. She suddenly remembered that Eleanor Sterling was, after all, my stepmother. So, she circled the room, finally finding Eleanor, who was laughing, holding her phone, talking to Mr. Sterling. "Eleanor, I haven't seen Liam today." At my name, Eleanor and Richard exchanged an odd, knowing glance. For some reason, Sophia’s heart sank. The next moment, she saw Eleanor raise her phone. On the brightly lit screen, Sophia saw something that would haunt her forever.
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