When the billionaire found me, my adoptive parents were in the middle of a drunken rage, lashing out at me with a belt. I didn't run. I didn't cry. I looked at the man in the expensive suit with eyes that were three parts innocent and seven parts hollow. I looked exactly like a broken porcelain doll. I knew the truth: I was a replacement. Or rather, I was the original they had lost. In my past life, I told them the truth immediately. I begged for their love. In return, I was framed, my reputation ruined, and I was eventually burned alive in a "tragic" gas explosion. This time, I decided to play the role of the girl who knew nothing. I would become the perfect, tragic daughter of the Sterling empire. "My foster parents only hit me because they loved my brother more," I whispered. "If you love your 'other' daughter more than me, what will happen to me?" "I just can't take any more hits." Three sentences. That was all it took to push the billionaire’s guilt to the breaking point. I smiled inwardly. The stage was set. Now, the real show begins. 1 When my biological parents found me, I was in the middle of a "lesson." My foster mother had pulled a metal poker from the fireplace. It was glowing orange-red. She was swinging it toward my back, screaming about some chores I hadn't finished. In the air, I could almost smell the faint, sickening scent of charred skin. That was the exact moment the Sterlings burst through the door. "Stop! How dare you lay a hand on my daughter!" My foster mother was far gone in her rage. She didn't stop. My biological mother, desperate to intervene, took a hit to her arm while trying to shield me. She let out a sharp cry, her eyes instantly welling with tears. I watched them, my expression completely blank. Does it hurt? I’m sure it did. But it didn't hurt nearly as much as being burned alive in a basement while my family watched from the lawn. 2 My biological mother and I were both rushed to the hospital. By the time we arrived, my biological father—a man whose face was on the cover of every business magazine—and his two children had arrived. The hospital bed was surrounded by people. "Mom, how could that woman be so vicious? What did she use to hit you?" I didn't need to open my eyes to know who was speaking. That was my "big brother," Caleb. In my last life, he was one of the people who helped pour the gasoline. "Mom, does it hurt? If I had known, I would have gone with you. I would have protected you." That was Brooke. She was sobbing, sounding as if she were the one who had lost a mother. Brooke was the Sterling's "foundling" daughter. The girl they adopted to replace me. Actually, she was the biological daughter of my abusive foster parents. All the beatings I took for eighteen years? They were meant for her. I shifted slightly. A sharp, stinging pain radiated from my back, making me gasp. The sound was loud in the quiet VIP suite. The family finally remembered I was there. My biological mother looked over, her expression awkward. "Avery... are you okay?" I wasn't okay. But I wouldn't die. Not yet. I looked down, a self-deprecating smile touching my lips. "I’m used to it. But you... your skin is so delicate. That burn must be excruciating." I made sure to emphasize the word "excruciating." My biological father finally walked to my bedside to check my injuries. I didn't hide. I let the gown slip just enough to show the horrific patchwork of scars on my back. 3 The moment they saw the damage, a collective gasp filled the room. Brooke turned away, hiding her face in Caleb’s chest as if she couldn't bear the sight. "Oh my God," Caleb whispered. "How can a human being have a back like that?" He acted like a protective older brother, covering Brooke’s eyes so she wouldn't be "traumatized." Is it really that scary? I couldn't see it, but I knew. It was a map of every mistake my foster father made while drunk, and every bad mood my foster mother had. My mother ignored her own burn. she practically threw herself at my side. Warm tears fell onto the back of my neck, sliding into the raw wounds and making them sting. "Avery, come home with us. We’re never going back to those monsters. They aren't human. How could they do this to you?" My father looked shaken. "Come home. We’ll get you the best doctors. We’ll make you whole again." I let my eyes fill with a desperate, fragile hope. I stared at them for a long moment, then slowly shook my head. "My foster parents only hit me because they loved my brother more," I whispered. "If you love Brooke more than me, what will happen to me?" "I just can't take any more hits." The room went silent. The guilt radiating from my parents was palpable. I lowered my gaze, hiding the cold glint in my eyes. In my last life, I was submissive. I was a "good girl." And I died like a dog. This life? I’m going to make Brooke feel every single thing I went through. 4 Despite their pleas, I didn't go home with them immediately. I knew that something given too easily is never cherished. I retreated to my tiny, cramped studio apartment. It was barely two hundred square feet, but it was mine. The only problem was reaching my back to apply the ointment. It didn't matter. I was used to sleeping on my stomach. Just as I was drifting off, my phone rang. It was my biological father. I knew exactly why he was calling. I let the phone ring seven or eight times before answering with a voice thick with feigned sleep. "Avery, we’ve already retained a team of lawyers. We’re filing criminal charges against those people. We need you to come in tomorrow to give a statement." I yawned silently. A lawsuit. Typical. But... I wouldn't allow it. If they were behind bars, how would Brooke experience the "quality of life" I had endured? "Sue my parents? I... I don't think I can." "A child without a mother is like a blade of grass in the wind. They hit me, yes, but at least I had a home." "I don't want to lose my family." "Avery..." There was a long, heavy silence on the other end. "If that’s all, I’m going to hang up. Please don't bring this up again. I don't want to be an orphan." Click. If I guessed correctly, that billionaire couple wouldn't be getting a wink of sleep tonight. But what did that have to do with me? In my last life, they weren't the ones who lit the match, but they were the ones who handed Brooke the gasoline. 5 The next morning, at 7:00 AM sharp, my biological parents were at my door. Their eyes were bloodshot. They looked at me with pure desperation. "Avery, please. Come home." "You silly girl, what were you saying last night? We are your family. We are your blood! You will never be an orphan as long as we breathe." To show their sincerity, they brought two maids and three massive suitcases full of designer clothes. But my apartment was too small. With all of them inside, you couldn't even turn around without bumping into someone. My eyes welled with tears. I looked at them like a kicked puppy. "Really?" "Will you... will you love Brooke more? She’s been with you for twenty years." My parents shook their heads in unison, their faces firm. In my last life, I didn't know how to fight. I let Brooke's "sweetness" win them over. They lectured me. They scolded me. Eventually, they loathed me. This time, I’m making sure they stay on my side forever. 6 Coming home this time was much more lucrative than before. My father called a family meeting. In front of everyone, he produced two black credit cards and a deed to a property in the city. "Avery, you’ve suffered too much." "There is ten million dollars in this account for your 'pocket money.'" "This penthouse is in your name. You can move in whenever you want. We are never going back to that tiny apartment again." I acted panicked. "This is too much... I... I’m not worth this." The more I refused, the more distressed they became. They practically forced the cards into my hand. "Avery, take it. This is yours. Eventually, we will transfer your share of the company stock as well..." I bit my lip. "Then... thank you, Dad. Thank you, Mom." Hearing those words, the two of them were moved to tears again. I joined them, letting my own tears fall. It was a picture of domestic bliss. But Brooke wasn't happy. She sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, her knuckles white as she gripped her skirt. She was staring at me with a gaze that could kill. I flashed her a tiny, secret smile and slid over to sit next to her. I handed her one of the cards. "Brooke, let me share half with you. I’ve been through a lot of trauma, and sometimes my emotions might get a little... out of control. You won't be mad at me, right?" The keyword: out of control. My parents didn't catch the threat. They only saw a sister being "generous." My father spoke up. "Avery is right. She’s been through hell because of those monsters." "From now on, nobody is allowed to bully Avery!" Brooke forced a smile but didn't speak. Caleb’s brow was furrowed, his gaze on me cold and suspicious. I didn't care. I’m smart. I’ll wait. Once these "fake" siblings reach their breaking point, that’s when I’ll really start my rampage. 7 My mother wanted to show me around the estate, but Brooke cut in. "Mom, I know the house best. Let me show Avery around." "You should go rest. You usually take your nap at this time. I already put your warm milk on your nightstand." I smiled. Milk on the nightstand? I lived here for years in my last life. I knew for a fact my mother didn't have a "milk before bed" habit. Brooke was marking her territory. She was showing me she knew our mother’s "habits" better than I did. My mother blinked, a bit surprised, but she looked touched. She patted Brooke’s hand. "Thank you, Brooke. I am quite exhausted today." "You’re such a thoughtful girl. I’m so lucky to have you..." Before she could finish, I spoke up, my voice full of longing. "Mom... is the milk sweet?" "Back at my other house, only my brother was allowed to have milk." I licked my lips. It worked. My mother’s hand dropped from Brooke’s. Her eyes turned red again. "Brooke, go... go warm a glass for Avery too. Bring it to her room." I shook my head obediently. "No, Mom. I’ll go learn how to do it. I’ll warm a glass for Brooke. I’m the big sister. I should take care of her." Three minutes later, under our mother’s watchful eye, Brooke was forced to choke down a glass of warm milk she clearly didn't want. I looked down, hiding my smile. Drink it. The more you drink, the easier it is for my plan to work. I looked up, my expression innocent. "Mom, from now on, I’ll warm the milk for you and Brooke every day." Brooke looked like she wanted to scream, but my mother just stroked my hair and smiled weakly. "Okay." Brooke’s face turned ugly for a split second. She glared at me. Angry already? I almost laughed. In my last life, I never had this kind of intimacy with my parents. I was timid and small. I just wanted peace. In less than a week, I had fallen into every one of Brooke’s traps. My parents tried to defend me at first. But after Brooke framed me over and over, they looked at me with nothing but disappointment. Then came the fire. The mansion burned. It was only because of their "pity" that they sifted through the ashes and found a few pieces of my bones. We’re even now. I don't love these parents, but I don't quite hate them either. But Caleb? He was the one who made sure the doors were locked from the outside. 8 Without the siblings' interference, my relationship with my parents was actually quite stable. My mother, trying to make up for eighteen years of lost time, insisted on tucking me in every night. This seemed to drive Brooke insane. That night, Brooke called my mother, sobbing. "Mom, I feel so sick. I think I have a fever." "Mom, can you come stay with me? Like you used to when I was little..." My mother’s brow furrowed. She didn't even put on her slippers before running to Brooke’s room. I followed at a leisurely pace. This was Brooke’s show, after all. She was performing for me. If I didn't show up, who would appreciate her acting? By the time I got there, Caleb was already in Brooke’s room. The family doctor was packing his bag. "Mrs. Sterling, Brooke is just suffering from 'emotional stress.' She’s probably been overworking herself lately. That’s why the fever hit her so suddenly." I let out a soft chuckle. Overworking herself? More like she was fuming because I’ve been hogging our mother’s attention. Brooke’s face was flushed red, her eyes watery and pathetic. My parents were devastated. They hovered at her bedside. "Brooke, why are you so stressed? What’s bothering you?" "Are you in a lot of pain?" Brooke’s voice was weak, sounding as if she were about to draw her last breath. "Mom, I’m fine. Go take care of Avery." Classic. She used this same trick in my last life. And just as expected, Caleb shot me a cold, venomous look. "Brooke was always perfectly healthy. She never got fevers. How 'coincidental' that the moment you show up, she falls ill." I leaned against the doorframe, listening. This was nothing. In my last life, Caleb accused me of stealing Brooke’s necklace and nearly broke my hand "interrogating" me. My father barked, "Watch your tone with your sister!" A simple scolding. Meaningless. I took a step back. "It’s okay. Mom should stay with Brooke." My mother looked torn, but she also looked relieved. I turned to go back to my room. "But Mom, you should probably keep your distance. The flu has been going around lately." My parents looked confused. Caleb growled, "Why are you so dramatic?" I turned back and explained seriously, "The doctor said I’m malnourished and my immune system is weak. He told me to avoid 'sources of infection' whenever possible." To prove my point, I shook my sleeve. The pajamas were the smallest size available, but they still hung off my skeletal frame. My parents’ eyes filled with pity. Caleb gritted his teeth. "You’re just trying to compete with her!" "I’m sick too. Is it wrong to want my own mother?" I said softly. "If I’m in the way, I’ll just go. Each daughter can just go back to her own mother." 9 Brooke’s eyes flickered when she heard that. I knew that was her greatest fear. She had tasted the high life. Who would ever want to go back to being beaten in a trailer park? Caleb took two long strides toward me, using his height to loom over me. "You’re so vicious. You just want an excuse to kick Brooke out, don't you?" I took a half-step back. Remembering my last life, my gaze toward Caleb turned icy. "Vicious? If life were fair, she would be the one with the scars on her back, not me." Caleb’s jaw tightened. He pointed at me, looking at our parents. "Is this the daughter you fought so hard to find?" "She comes back and immediately starts trying to push Brooke out. She’s just like those monsters who raised her—pure trash!" I laughed out loud. I am vicious. When did I ever claim to be a saint? But Brooke and I are two of a kind. I just wondered which would win: the nature of my bloodline, or the nurture of her upbringing. In the end, my mother chose me. She followed me back to my room. She tucked me in, but her face was full of worry. "If you want to go to her, just go. I’m fine." "No, honey. Mom is staying here with you..." I gave her a sweet, fake smile and closed my eyes. I needed my rest. Knowing Brooke, tomorrow was going to be an even bigger headache.
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