My sister, Stella, had always believed she bore a striking resemblance to Alexander Vanderbilt, the billionaire magnate’s beloved wife – a resemblance she swore was at least five parts out of ten. To usurp Mrs. Vanderbilt’s place, Stella orchestrated a meeting, intending to stage a car crash and eliminate her. I arrived just in time, intercepting the plot before she could carry it out. On the way home, I tried reasoning with her. "Alex Vanderbilt built his empire from nothing, Stella. He's ruthless, sharp, and has a charming facade that masks a core of steel. Your little schemes? He'll see right through them eventually. And when he does, our whole family will pay the price." Stella nodded, seemingly agreeing with my fears. Yet, the moment we stepped through the door, she poured a potent herbicide into my water glass. As death claimed me, her voice, chillingly sweet, whispered in my ear, "You're just jealous of my face, aren't you? Jealous of the face that can marry into wealth. You ruined my dream, so I'll ruin you." When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the very day Stella had arranged to meet Alex Vanderbilt's wife. … A deafening crash rent the air, and Stella immediately bolted. She sprinted to the figure sprawled on the pavement, letting out a frantic shriek. "Forget the car! Call 911! Someone call 911!" Stella, her face meticulously made up, dropped to her knees. She performed CPR on the person lying there, not flinching from the blood staining her beautiful clothes, even leaning in for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Anyone watching would have praised her selfless bravery. Along with the ambulance, a swarm of reporters descended. Facing the cameras, Stella’s voice rose in a righteous fury. "Do you people have no conscience?! This isn't the time for interviews! Saving a life is what matters!" She then spun around, her voice laced with desperate urgency, as she spoke to the paramedics. "Doctor, please, you have to save her! She's so beautiful, it would be such a tragedy for her to die like this." The paramedic seemed genuinely moved. "Don't worry, ma'am, we'll do everything we can. Do you know her family?" Stella shook her head. "I'm just a passerby, but I'll ride with you. I'll even cover her medical expenses." The paramedic praised her selflessness, urging her to get into the ambulance. As Stella turned away, she deftly slipped the unconscious woman's phone into her pocket, unnoticed. I watched the ambulance speed off. After waiting for another half hour, a luxury sedan pulled up at the corner. A man in a charcoal suit jumped out – a familiar face. It was Mr. Davies, Alex Vanderbilt's assistant. He surveyed the scene, then turned to speak with the police about what had just transpired. I pulled out my phone and sent Stella a message. Ella: Stella, I saw you on the news. What did you do? Her reply was immediate and clipped. Stella: None of your business. A faint smile touched my lips at her four-word response. My sister had devoured too many CEO romance novels, convinced that every billionaire was a fool. After a chance encounter with Alex Vanderbilt, who merely remarked, "You remind me of my wife when she was younger," she'd begun to fantasize about marrying into unimaginable wealth. In my previous life, I had tried to reason with her, only to face a brutal end. This time, my first priority was to distance myself, to ensure that when Alex Vanderbilt finally retaliated, I wouldn't be caught in the crossfire. Just as I prepared to head home, my phone rang. It was the hospital, explaining they had a patient in urgent need of an ultra-rare blood type, and asked if I was available. Both Stella and I shared this incredibly rare blood type, and our details were on file with the blood center. Hearing someone was in need, I went to the hospital without a second thought. To my astonishment, the patient in critical condition was none other than Claire Vanderbilt, Alex Vanderbilt's wife. After donating blood, I walked into the waiting room. Stella, seeing me, froze. "What are you doing here?" I sat down. "Heard someone needed an ultra-rare blood type, so I came." I glanced at her, then asked pointedly, "What were you doing there?" In the past, when I'd first heard about her plan, I'd tried to dissuade her repeatedly, even threatening to expose her if she went through with it. Stella, clearly worried I'd suspect her, quickly replied, "Just passing by. Coincidence." "Oh," I murmured, then settled into silence, closing my eyes, feigning rest. But even without my prodding, Stella couldn't resist her urge to boast. She leaned in conspiratorially. "Ella, you know who that woman is? She's Alex Vanderbilt's wife, the billionaire magnate! Alex Vanderbilt himself told me I look just like she did when she was younger. Once she's gone, I'll be the next billionaire's wife!" Normally, I would have lectured her about her delusions. This time, I just complimented her. "Wow! Congratulations, Stella! When you're Mrs. Vanderbilt, can you get me a job at Vanderbilt Enterprises?" My groveling successfully inflated her ego. She snorted. "Mom and Dad were right. You're born to serve, Ella. I'm going to be rich beyond imagining, and all you can think about is working for someone." Just then, Alex Vanderbilt's voice echoed from outside the room. Stella's eyes lit up. She leaped to her feet, ready to make an entrance and ensure she was noticed. Before leaving, she jabbed a finger at me. "You hide! Don't you dare ruin this for me!" We were twins, and she was terrified I'd steal Alex Vanderbilt's attention. But she was overthinking it. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be as far away from her as possible. I was afraid that when the hammer dropped on her, I'd be caught in the splash zone. Yet, a moment later, Stella let out a low, knowing laugh. "Though, with your face, it probably wouldn't matter even if you did show up." Her laugh held a cruel meaning, one I understood perfectly. While we were identical twins, our appearances were vastly different. The same features on her face were like my face, but with a ten-level beauty filter applied. She was stunning; I was, to her, plain. Stella swayed her hips and exited the room. A moment later, I heard her syrupy voice attempting to comfort Alex Vanderbilt, her tone so overtly flirtatious it made my skin crawl. Having just donated blood, I felt a little woozy, so I curled up and drifted off. When I woke, the outside corridor was silent. I checked the time, then decided to head home. The elevator was taking too long, so I opted for the stairs. The moment I entered the stairwell, I heard Alex Vanderbilt speaking with his assistant. "Mr. Vanderbilt, the Mrs.'s phone was showing in the hospital just a moment ago. Now it's moved." I froze on the spot, barely daring to breathe. Luckily, neither of them noticed me. Alex Vanderbilt's voice was frigid. "Look into it privately. Don't inform the police. Claire never goes to places like that. There's definitely something fishy going on. Start with that Stella girl, she's too strange." "If I find out who laid a hand on Claire," his voice dropped to a terrifying whisper, "I'll make their entire family pay." A shiver ran down my spine. Rumor had it that before becoming a corporate titan, Alex Vanderbilt had been a notorious figure in the criminal underworld, even serving time. Terrified, I rushed home. The moment I stepped through the door, I heard Stella and my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, laughing. Mrs. Hayes, ever the doting mother, was praising Stella's "sacrifices" – the money spent, the blood donated – and had bought her an array of blood-boosting supplements. Stella scoffed, "You have to spend money to make money. Paying the medical bills is the only way to keep Alex Vanderbilt in contact." Mr. Hayes sighed. "But why did you have to donate blood? You have that ultra-rare blood type. It'll take ages to recover." "How else was that woman supposed to die?" Stella retorted with a sly grin. "I'd already done my research. Claire Vanderbilt is severely allergic to mangoes. I ate a bunch right before I donated blood. She was a dead woman walking." Soon, the three of them were lost in fantasies of Stella marrying into wealth. I chose that moment to step out, pointing at Stella, aghast. "How could you do something like that?!" They all fell silent the moment I appeared. I grabbed Stella's hand, pretending to pull her toward the door. "You can still confess now. It's not too late." Stella shoved me away. "Ella, are you insane?! My plan was foolproof! It happened in a derelict part of the city, no surveillance cameras, and the car's already been disposed of. As long as you keep your mouth shut, no one will suspect a thing!" I frowned, staring at her. "Do you think rich people are as stupid as you are? Why would Claire Vanderbilt, a billionaire's wife, go to a rundown district for no reason? No cameras, but plenty of eyewitnesses! And you even called the reporters?! You're an utter fool!" Stella froze for two seconds, then quickly recomposed herself. "It still won't lead back to me. Ella, why are you so upset? Could it be... you're jealous?" "I'm afraid you'll bring our whole family down! If you don't confess, I'm calling the police." The words were barely out of my mouth when my hair was yanked back. Mr. Hayes pulled me backward, then kicked my leg. I collapsed to my knees from the pain, but he wasn't done. He slapped me twice. "Your sister did this for this family, and you're thinking of calling the police?! I wish I'd strangled you at birth, you little wretch!" Mrs. Hayes cheered him on. "Beat her! Beat her! That stubborn bone won't learn unless you break her!" Stella, arms crossed, smirked coldly. "Dad, hit her harder. Don't let her ruin our good fortune." I endured my father's kicks and punches, remembering how it had been the same in my past life. When Stella had poisoned me, I'd begged my parents to take me to the hospital. But they had merely locked me away, watching me slowly lose my life with chilling indifference. I never understood why, despite being their twin daughters, they had always favored Stella. She wore new clothes and attended good schools, while I wore rags and served as her drudge. The pain in my body intensified. I screamed, counting down the seconds in my head. A few minutes later, a neighbor knocked, asking what was happening. Mr. Hayes immediately stopped, telling the neighbor, "Nothing, just our older daughter stumbled." After he shut the door, Mr. Hayes kicked me again. "Do you admit you're wrong?" Normally, even after such a beating, I would never back down. But this time, like a terrified rabbit, I quickly whimpered, "I'm wrong, Dad. I shouldn't have said those things to Stella." Mr. Hayes still wasn't satisfied. "Are you still going to call the police?" "No, no, never again." After my repeated apologies, Mr. Hayes's rage subsided. I then, somewhat obsequiously, begged Stella and Mrs. Hayes for forgiveness. Mrs. Hayes’s face remained cold. "Enough talk. Go make dinner. I'm starving." I complied, tied on an apron, and went to the kitchen. Just then, Stella's phone chimed. She looked at it and shrieked. "She's dead! Claire Vanderbilt is dead! I have to go to the hospital! I have to go comfort Alex Vanderbilt!" She excitedly rushed to her room, changed into a new outfit, applied more makeup, and put on her high heels, ready to leave. My parents, worried about her safety at such a late hour, grabbed the car keys, intending to drive her. The moment they left, I gathered my few belongings, preparing to leave that house for good. As I stepped out, I ran into the neighbor. He frowned at my bruised face. "Your parents again?" Then, seeing my suitcase, he tutted. "Get out of here, kid. If you stay in that house, something terrible will happen sooner or later."
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