The day after I was brought home as the long-lost daughter of the wealthy Lockwood family, I climbed to the school rooftop, ready to end my life. No one understood. I was finally about to live the good life. Why would I want to die? Because I remembered. In my previous life, shortly after being “welcomed” into the Lockwood family, I was framed as a murderer—a drunk driver who killed a family of three in a hit-and-run. It was my replacement, their precious adopted daughter Amelia, who had committed the crime. But the Lockwoods made me their scapegoat. My adoptive parents, the only real family I’d ever known, bankrupted themselves trying to save me. They died of grief and despair. My biological parents held a press conference, disowning me. They claimed that growing up poor had corrupted my character. In the end, I was stabbed to death by a grieving relative of the victims. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the day after the Lockwoods had found me. This time, things would be different. This time, I would break my legs. How could I possibly go drunk driving then? … I stood on the rooftop for half an hour, a crowd of students and teachers gathering below. They were all gossiping, trying to figure out why the newly-found Lockwood heiress, a girl who should have been celebrating her good fortune, was about to jump. I ignored their murmurs and swung one leg over the ledge. Panic erupted below. They realized I wasn’t joking. Someone called the police. “I’ve had enough!” I screamed down at them, my voice raw with anguish. “Stay away from me, or I’ll take you all with me!” A teacher, Mr. Henderson, tried to reason with me. “Holly! Don't be rash! Whatever’s wrong, we can talk about it. Come down, and the school will do everything we can to help you.” I looked at him, my expression one of profound sorrow, and nodded. Then, I stepped back from the edge. Seeing me comply so easily, a wave of relief washed over the teachers. The students, however, started to jeer. “Seriously? I thought something was actually wrong. She was just putting on a show.” “Yeah, what a drama queen. Pretending to jump for attention—” Their laughter died in their throats as they saw me reappear, this time in a fourth-floor window, one leg already dangling outside. The teachers’ hearts leaped back into their throats. They shushed the other students, terrified of provoking me further. “Holly, what’s wrong?” Mr. Henderson called out again, his voice gentle. “We agreed to talk, remember?” I stuck my head out the window. “I know! I’m on my way down. We can have a nice long chat.” As I was talking, my phone rang. It was my biological mother, Mrs. Lockwood. Her voice was a whip crack of anger. “What do you think you’re doing? Your school just called me! You really are a savage, raised in the gutter! When will you ever be as well-behaved as Amelia?” I glanced at the time on my phone and smirked. It was six p.m. At this very moment, her "well-behaved" Amelia was out joyriding, a bottle of vodka in her hand. In three hours, she would mow down a family and flee the scene. I didn’t know the victims. I had no way to warn them. The only person I could save right now was myself. “You’re the ones who drove me to this!” I shrieked into the phone. “I can’t take it anymore!” The students below, realizing who I was talking to, exchanged knowing glances. Mrs. Lockwood, unaware she was on speakerphone, continued her tirade in her condescending, aristocratic tone. “Go on then, make a scene. If you die, you’ll have deserved it. I already have a perfect daughter in Amelia.” With that, she hung up, her cruelty on full display. Mr. Henderson looked horrified, on the verge of tears himself, still begging me to come down. I closed my eyes, tuning him out. Her cold words had transported me back to my previous life, standing alone in that courtroom. The judge’s cold stare. The jury’s contempt. It wasn't an ordinary hit-and-run. It was a massacre. A drunk driver in a sports car had killed three people, including an eight-month-old baby, who was crushed into an unrecognizable pulp. The law, public opinion—there was no escape. No one knew the real killer was the Lockwoods’ beloved adopted daughter, Amelia. They couldn't bear to see her go to prison, so they offered me up instead. All the evidence pointed to me. I had no way to fight back. But in this life, how could I drive a car with broken legs? Just as I was steeling myself, my adoptive parents arrived. My mom ran toward the building, her face streaked with tears. “Holly!” she cried, her voice trembling. “What’s wrong, baby? Tell me what’s bothering you. Please, I’m begging you, don’t do this!” She was bent over, practically on her knees, pleading with me. My dad stood beside her, his face a mask of despair, but his voice was strong. “Come home, sweetheart. Come back to our house. We never should have let you go to them.” The teachers and students looked at them with pity. My dad turned to the crowd. “I’m so sorry for the trouble. My daughter will be fine. She’s coming down. She’s coming home with us.” Once again, they were putting me first, sacrificing their pride, their everything, just to keep me safe. Seeing their desperate faces, tears streamed down my own. In my past life, when I was accused, the Lockwoods held a press conference and disowned me. But my adoptive parents never stopped believing in my innocence. They sold their only house, everything they had, to hire a lawyer for me. But the Lockwoods had been meticulous. They had fabricated a perfect chain of evidence to protect Amelia. The case was airtight. My parents spent their life savings and still couldn't uncover the truth. After I was sent to prison, they died, heartbroken, in a small, rented apartment. The memory hardened my resolve. I had to jump. It was the only way to prove my innocence, the only way for the three of us to have a future together. “It’s no use!” I shouted down to them. “You can’t fight a family like the Lockwoods! The only way out for me is to die! Just go!” My voice was filled with a theatrical despair. My mom just looked at me, her face etched with pain. “Have you ever heard of tragic literature?” I screamed, my voice taking on a manic edge. “When I’m dead, the Lockwoods will regret it! They’ll throw that Amelia out, and I’ll be their one and only daughter forever!” I laughed, a wild, unhinged sound. My parents stopped crying. The teachers and students stared, stunned. A few students whispered among themselves. “Has she lost her mind?” “It’s only been a few days. What did the Lockwoods do to her?” My mom covered her mouth, stifling a sob, afraid to say anything that might push me over the edge. I continued my mad rant. “I’m not crazy! The Lockwoods are wonderful to me! The first day I was there, they let me sleep in the cozy, comfortable maid’s room.” “They threw out all the local specialties my real parents packed for me. They said it was all garbage.” “And my loving biological parents told me that as soon as I graduate, I’m to be married off to the degenerate son of the Morrison family, in Amelia’s place.” Every word was a bombshell. The crowd looked on in disbelief. “What kind of parents are they?” “She must be making it up!” Only I knew it was all true. I had been treated like dirt from the moment I arrived. But in my past life, I had clung to the hope of finding love and acceptance with them. And my reward had been to become Amelia’s scapegoat. This time, it wasn't just Amelia who would pay. The entire Lockwood family would suffer. My mom looked like she was about to faint. A few teachers rushed to support her. A student called out, “Even if your biological parents are terrible, you can’t just throw your life away! Look at your adoptive parents! They love you!” To ensure the Lockwoods wouldn't target them later, I had to be cruel. I shook my head violently. “No! It’s not the same! You don’t understand!” Just then, I heard the sound of sirens in the distance. The police and an ambulance were arriving. My time had come. I scrambled down to the third-floor window. The police rushed into the building, hoping to grab me. But I didn't hesitate. I threw myself out the window. As a pre-med student, I knew a fall from the third floor wasn't likely to be fatal, especially if I landed on my feet. A sharp, agonizing pain shot through my left leg, but the rest of my body seemed fine. Amid a chorus of screams, I was lifted onto a stretcher. The pain was so intense that I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in a hospital room. My adoptive parents were by my bedside, their faces etched with worry. I looked down at my leg. It was in a thick cast. My mom saw I was awake. “It’s just your left leg,” she said softly. “The doctor said it’s a clean break. It’ll heal quickly. You just rest now. No more crazy thoughts.” I looked at her exhausted face and nodded. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 8:30 p.m. In half an hour, Amelia would commit her crime. After she killed that family, the first thing she would do was call the Lockwoods. Her parents would immediately send their "fixers" to dispose of the bodies and the car. The crime scene was in a deserted suburb. With the Lockwoods' cover-up, it would be a month before the truth came out. I assumed it would be the same in this life. I could only save myself. “Mom, don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t cause any more trouble. I’ll rest up, and when I’m better, we’ll go home. Our home.” Tears of relief welled up in her eyes. She squeezed my hand and nodded. “Yes. Our home.” Just then, my phone rang, shattering the peaceful moment. The caller ID read: Mrs. Lockwood. My mom answered it for me. A torrent of abuse poured out of the speaker. “If you wanted to jump, you should have just died! Why did you have to run your mouth and spread those lies?” So, my little performance had gone viral. The Lockwoods were feeling the heat. There was no need to pretend. “Were they lies?” I asked coldly. She was furious. “I don't have a daughter like you! I should have strangled you at birth! You’re nothing but a curse!” I was unfazed. “I don't have a mother like you, either. And I’m never going back to the Lockwood house.” With that, I had my mom hang up. The truth was, the Lockwoods had known I was their daughter all along. They had only kept me away for Amelia’s sake. Their business had run into trouble recently. To save it, they needed to form an alliance with the powerful Morrison family, and their daughter was the price. They couldn’t bear to sacrifice Amelia, so they came for me. In my last life, I went to prison, and Amelia ended up marrying the Morrison heir anyway. They were the ones who needed me, yet they treated me like I was something they had scraped off their shoe. This time, I was done with them. They couldn't use me as a scapegoat, and they couldn't sell me off in a business deal. Amelia, the Lockwoods—it was time for them to pay for their own sins.
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