In my past life, Claire took all our guards to stage a meteor shower for her lover Julian in the countryside. Enemies seized the chance to attack our estate. Mother Eleanor shielded me but was mortally wounded. My desperate calls finally brought Claire back reluctantly. Though we captured the intruders, tragic news arrived - Julian had disappeared, leaving a suicide note blaming me for "luring Claire away." Claire burned it dismissively: "Just drama." Father reprimanded her and surprisingly named me heir. That victory night, Claire strangled me in my bedroom. "You deserved this," she hissed. "The inheritance was always mine." I died resentful. When I reopened my eyes, enemies were breaking down our gates. 1. The deafening crash of the heavy iron gates of our estate being ripped open dragged me back from the suffocating grasp of near-death. I clung desperately to my mother, who was panicking, trying to rush out and see what was happening. Instead, I pulled her back, dragging her into my bedroom. Slamming the door shut and locking it, I gasped for breath. “Mom, help me!” I choked out, gesturing wildly for her to help me shove the massive mahogany wardrobe against the door. “Fred, what are you doing? We have security guards, what are you afraid of?” Eleanor looked at me, her eyes wide with a fear she couldn't hide. She didn't know yet. She didn't know Claire, my sister, had taken every single security guard with her for her sugar baby Julian. “Mom, Claire took all the guards! It's just us!” I gritted my teeth, straining every muscle to push the wardrobe. The heavy mahogany scraped across the polished floorboards with a teeth-gnashing shriek, leaving deep gouges in its wake. Eleanor froze, disbelief warring with terror in her eyes. Our family, the Montgomeries, stood at the pinnacle of influence. Security was always paramount. How could all the guards be gone? But then she saw my ashen face, and the truth, raw and horrifying, began to sink in. “Quick! Call your sister! Tell her to come back now!” Eleanor urged, her voice trembling. I didn't answer. My gaze was fixed on the door, barely held in place by the wardrobe. My trembling fingers dialed 911, giving a terse, urgent explanation of our situation and address. I couldn't rely on Claire for immediate rescue; in my past life, she had returned too late. Mom had succumbed to her injuries, missing the critical window for treatment. Hanging up, a leaden dread settled in my chest. Heavy snowfall had blocked the roads for days. Our estate was nestled on a hillside, a considerable distance from the nearest police precinct. I couldn't bear to imagine what might happen before they arrived… “CRACK!” The door shuddered violently. I instinctively braced myself against the wardrobe, a wave of primal fear washing over me. Just then, Eleanor’s call to Claire connected. “Claire, you have to come back! Intruders… there are intruders!” Eleanor’s voice was laced with a desperate sob. From the other end, Claire’s impatient voice crackled through. “Alright, Mom, stop making things up. I’m still celebrating Julian’s birthday. I’ll be back tomorrow.” “I’m not lying! There really are intruders! Please, come back, or you’ll be collecting our corpses!” Eleanor practically screamed. Claire’s tone turned even colder. “I know you don’t like Julian, but you don’t need to invent such outrageous lies to scare me. And tell Fred to stop with his pathetic little games. I won’t fall for them again.” At her words, my heart plummeted into an icy abyss. Claire had also been reborn! But why did she believe this was a fabricated lie concocted by me? In the last life, she had witnessed firsthand the brutal torment we endured at the hands of those thugs. Why, in this life, was she so utterly indifferent? All because of Julian, that pathetic excuse for a man? All because of her flimsy accusation, “Fred did this on purpose”? The rhythmic thud of approaching footsteps grew louder, halting just outside our door. Then, a more violent CRASH against the door, and the wardrobe began to shriek, dragging across the floor. We watched, horrified, as our makeshift barrier slowly gave way, until—“SNAP!” A chunk of wood splintered from the wardrobe’s corner, revealing a gaping crack. Through it, a sliver of the hallway’s dim light cut through. The man outside chuckled, a low, guttural sound. “Thought you could hide, did you? You’re in here, just as I expected.” I instinctively stepped in front of Eleanor, retreating slowly toward the bed. My eyes fixed on that widening crack, the growing sliver of light revealing the horror lurking beyond. A crushing sense of powerlessness washed over me, cold sweat slicking my forehead. Then, the door was violently ripped open, the screech of the wardrobe's broken base scraping against the floor piercing my ears. A pair of grimy boots stepped inside. “You thought bracing the door would save you? I don’t have the patience for a long game.” The man smirked, his eyes, yellowed and predatory, swept over the room. I froze, my gaze riveted on the glinting dagger in his hand, its cold steel reflecting off his dirty knuckles. His gaze settled on Eleanor, a greedy, sickening leer, like a snake’s tongue flicking over prey. “Well, well. Tonight, I get to have some sport with both mother and son.” Eleanor let out a piercing shriek. “Don’t you dare touch me!” I clenched my jaw, suppressing the surging despair in my chest. I turned to Eleanor, my voice low and urgent. “Mom, no matter what happens, don't interfere.” “Step back. The trampoline is right outside the window. Jump. It should break your fall.” My voice was barely a whisper. “Then, run to the Thorne estate next door. Find Vivian. Tell her to bring people to save me.” The man with the dagger was closing in. We were out of time. I had endured their torment in the last life; this time, I would die before I let anything happen to Mom. “Fred, I can’t leave you alone!” Eleanor cried, tears streaming down her face. I gripped her wrist, my fingers digging into her skin. “Listen to me. Just jump. Then, run to the Thornes. As long as you’re alive, anything is possible.” Just then, the man shoved the shaking wardrobe aside and lunged toward us. “Mom, jump! Now!” I cried out, my voice laced with desperation. But instead, Eleanor lunged forward, throwing herself at the man. She clung to his arms, pulling and dragging, trying to hold him back. “Fred! Jump! Go! Mom won’t let them get you!” Her voice was choked with sobs, but it was resolute, final. “Mom!” I screamed, my heart tearing in two. I watched in horror as the dagger, in a swift, brutal arc, plunged into her back. That flash of crimson exploded in my mind, shattering every last shred of my stunned rationality. Eleanor gasped in pain, but she held on, clinging to the man’s waist, her voice still urgent, still resolute as she called to me: “Jump, Fred! Jump! Don’t you dare hesitate!” 2. My blood ran cold, yet the instinct to survive pulsed through my veins. A head-on fight was suicide. I sprinted to the window, throwing myself through it without a second thought. The impact, softened by the trampoline, sent a jolt of excruciating pain up my ankle and calf as I landed. But there was no time to lose. I bit down hard, struggling to my feet, and sprinted with every ounce of strength towards the Thorne estate next door. I ignored the agonizing cold in my feet, the snow turning red from the raw skin and frozen blood. All I knew was I had to run, to keep running. “Next door” was a relative term for these sprawling hillside properties. It was a good half-mile, maybe even a full mile, away. The icy air seared my throat, but I couldn't slow down. I knew too well that in the last life, there hadn't been just one intruder. When I finally collapsed against the Thorne estate's formidable iron gates, I pounded on them, my voice hoarse. “Vivian! Open up! Help! Intruders at my house! My mom, please, save my mom!” The iron gate creaked open. Vivian stood there, a frown etched on her face. She wore a thick, luxurious cashmere coat, but her eyes held no warmth. She looked down at me, kneeling in the snow, and spoke, her voice slow and measured. “Fred, your acting has really improved lately.” Her tone was playful, laced with a hint of mockery. Blood pounded in my chest, and my head spun. “Vivian! I’m not playing around! This isn’t a joke! My mom is fighting for her life!” “Please, send someone with me to save her.” She surveyed my battered, snow-covered state, a faint look of amusement crossing her face. “If your sister hadn’t told me you were jealous of Julian, concocting some story about a home invasion, I might have actually believed you.” “Don’t listen to Claire! This is real!” I pleaded, desperation coloring my voice. “I already called the police, but they haven’t arrived yet. Please, my mom was stabbed, she doesn’t have much time!” In the previous life, I didn't know if those three thugs had gone further. Mom and I fought tooth and nail, both of us brutally beaten. I was left with debilitating injuries, and Mom… Mom was gone. This time, I wouldn't let her die for me! I fumbled for my phone, trying to show Vivian my call log to 911. She glanced at it, but her face showed no sign of belief. Instead, she scoffed. “Playing a really big game this time, huh? You actually called the police?” “A self-inflicted home invasion? This ‘pity play’ is so convincing, I almost believed it. I have to admire your persistence.” “Vivian! Are you insane?! It’s real!” I roared, my eyes burning, tears blurring my vision. But my desperate cry failed to sway her. She turned to leave, but I grabbed her arm. “Please! My mom needs help! If you don’t go now, she could die! She really could die!” She looked down at me, her gaze chillingly indifferent. “Fred, your sister specifically told me to ignore you, to let you throw your tantrum.” Her coldness pierced me. Before Julian, Vivian had been my childhood sweetheart, gentle and considerate. After our engagement, she had been unfailingly devoted. But everything changed when Julian entered the picture. Vivian grew distant, and even Claire began to alienate me. Both of them, in their efforts to please Julian, had done utterly foolish things. My sister, simply because another company shared the same name as Julian's beloved dog, had maliciously driven them to ruin. That was what had brought this disaster upon our family! I knelt in the snow, utterly despairing, my pleas echoing in the cold air. “Vivian, I beg you! Just send someone to check on my house, please! Even if you want to break off the engagement, just help me!” I was on the brink of despair. I prayed, over and over, that Vivian would show a flicker of humanity, that she would remember our past and help save my mother. The butler, who had watched me grow up, couldn't bear it any longer. “Miss, perhaps you should send someone to look. Master Fred wouldn’t lie about something like this.” Vivian hesitated for a moment. I seized the opportunity, bowing my head and repeatedly knocking my forehead against the icy ground. Each dull thud echoed in the stillness. “Please! Please, save my mother!” Finally, Vivian spoke, her voice still detached. “I’ll send someone to check.” “However, Fred, if this turns out to be another one of your self-directed schemes, you will pay for it.” I snapped my head up, a sliver of hope igniting in my chest. Whatever it took, as long as she went! She called for a few of her guards, but just as they began to gather, her phone rang, jarringly. It was Claire. Vivian glanced at me, then put the call on speaker. My sister’s languid, indifferent voice drifted from the receiver. “Fred hasn’t gone to you, has he? Don’t listen to her. Someone just called me from Mom’s phone, threatening to kill her. It’s absolutely hilarious.” I felt as if I’d plunged into an ice bath, my blood turning to slush. I hadn't imagined that the sister who once vowed to protect me my entire life could be so heartless. For a man, she ignored our mother's peril, turning a deaf ear to my desperate pleas. Rage and fear intertwined within me. I screamed into the phone, “Claire! Are you insane?! Do we have to die before you believe us?! You saw what Mom and I went through last time!” She scoffed. “That was just your pathetic attempt to seize control! I asked Mrs. Davis, our housekeeper, and she said everything at home is fine.” “You’re a cruel, wicked person, Fred. I won’t believe you this time! If anything happens to Mom, it’s your own fault!” My heart completely shattered. Mrs. Davis had been on leave, visiting her hometown for a week! How could she possibly know what was happening at home?! I was about to retort, but a cold "beep… beep" from the phone signalized that Claire had hung up. Vivian’s face had darkened considerably. She looked at me with open disgust. “You really are lying! Guards, break his leg! Teach him a lesson!” The guards shifted, moving to grab me. I gritted my teeth, enduring the searing pain in my leg, and roared, “Don’t you dare! When my father returns, I will make you pay!” The guards exchanged uncertain glances. Vivian sneered, picked up a baseball bat leaning nearby, and walked over to me. She stood over me, looking down, her eyes filled with cruel amusement and mockery. “They might not dare, but I do.” I stared at her, despair rising in my throat. Her past gentleness felt like a fleeting dream. I couldn't believe she would do this to me. I tried to scramble backward, but she kicked me, sending me sprawling in the snow. A searing pain shot through my abdomen. Before I could even recover, she brought the bat down, hard, on my already injured left leg. “Agh!” I cried out, my body trembling violently. The agonizing pain nearly sent me into unconsciousness. But she just stood there, cold and unfeeling. “That’s what you get for lying to me.” Just then, my phone rang. She bent down, picked it up, a mocking smile playing on her lips. “Let’s hear who this is.” “Hello, is this Mr. Montgomery, the one who called 911?” “We’ve arrived at your estate. The intruders fled during the struggle, but your mother is in very bad condition and needs immediate medical attention.”
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