1 When I was three years old, a new nanny got tired of my crying and locked me in the dark basement overnight. When the heavy wooden door was finally unlocked the next morning, my voice was gone. Selective trauma-induced mutism, the doctors called it. But no one in the Pierce family ever treated me like I was broken. If anything, they loved me with a fierce, protective obsession. Grandpa Arthur held me on his lap during high-stakes board meetings; Dad cancelled multi-million-dollar dinners just to tuck me in; and my older brother, Harrison, guarded me like I was his entire heart walking around outside his chest. Until the day he brought a girl home. On my tenth birthday, she knew I had a fatal nut allergy. Yet she personally fed me a forkful of cake laced with crushed hazelnuts. As my throat closed up and I suffocated on the floor, she sobbed louder than anyone in the room. But when she bent down to pull the hair from my sweating face, her voice dropped to a razor-thin whisper: "Just die already." "Once you're gone, Harrison belongs only to me." After I died, Harrison knelt in front of my casket for two days without standing up. Grandpa collapsed and never fully recovered, and Dad aged a decade overnight. Meanwhile, she paraded a fake baby bump, walked down the aisle into the Pierce estate, and became the beloved, saintly young Mrs. Pierce in everyone’s eyes. Then I opened my eyes again. I was back. Five years old. Harrison was leading her across the threshold of the Pierce estate once more. Just like in my past life, she presented a gentle, loving face to the world—braiding my hair, spoon-feeding me soup, hugging me close while telling everyone how much she adored little Nora. But behind closed doors, she pressed sewing needles into the palms of my hands, held boiling hot tea cups against my skin, and pinched my thighs beneath the dining table until I shook from pain. I cried until I couldn't breathe, but I couldn't scream. She would lean into my ear and smile. "You pathetic little leech. Stay away from your brother." "A useless mute who can't even make a sound... what makes you think you deserve their world?" But this time, as the pain seared through me, I reached out and gripped Harrison’s sleeve with everything I had. And through my rusted, broken throat, I forced out a voice I hadn't heard in two years: "She... pinched... me." "Called me... a leech." In an instant, every color drained from the room. When my eyes opened to the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass foyer, I realized I had returned to the exact afternoon Harrison first brought Sienna home to the Pierce ancestral estate. The housekeeper’s voice echoed from the front doors. "Master Harrison is home." My entire body went rigid. A second later, my brother walked in, hand-in-hand with a woman. She was carrying a plush pink teddy bear, her smile radiant and soft. She knelt in front of my small armchair, her tone dripping with sweet affection. "Nora, sweetie. I’m Sienna. I’m going to take such good care of you from now on." I stared at her immaculate, beautiful face, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. In my previous life, she had sat by my bed holding that exact teddy bear. The moment the maid stepped out, she pulled a long silver pin from the bear's embroidered ear and rammed it into the flesh beneath my fingernails. Once. Then again. Who told you to hog all their love? she had whispered. I couldn't scream then. I could only sit there, warm tears streaming down my face. Remembering the blinding pain, I raised my arm and shoved the teddy bear out of her hands with all the force my five-year-old body could muster. It tumbled across the hardwood floor. The grand living room fell instantly silent. Harrison, standing beside Sienna, creased his forehead. "Nora," he said, his voice dropping an octave into that stern, big-brother register. "We don't throw things. That's rude." I couldn't explain. My throat was a sealed room. I could only pull back into the leather chair, shrinking away from them. Sienna immediately bent over to retrieve the doll. Her eyes welled up with practiced ease, but she smoothed her skirt and offered Harrison a forgiving, timid smile. "Harrison, please don't scold her. She's so little. It's her first time meeting me—she's probably just scared." She held the bear back out to me, her touch lingering near my hands. "Look, Nora. Teddy isn't mad." I stared at the pink plush. No. It hurts. When the needle digs into the skin, it hurts. I scrambled off the armchair and threw myself into my grandfather's lap. Grandpa Arthur Pierce sat in the high-backed wing chair at the head of the room. In the Pierce empire, no one dared to cross him. I was the only person in the world allowed to climb onto his knees and tug at his silver beard. Grandpa caught me mid-air, his arms solid and warm around my trembling frame. "What’s wrong with my girl?" I pointed a shaking finger at Sienna and shook my head violently. Sienna immediately lowered her gaze, her posture fragile. "Mr. Pierce, it’s my fault. I suppose I’m just not very good with children." A few servants standing near the corridor exchanged glances. One whispered under her breath, "Miss Sienna seems so sweet. Little Nora is usually so well-behaved—why is she acting up today?" Harrison caught the whisper, and his jaw tightened. "Nora, what did I teach you? Even if you don't like something, you don't throw a fit." I squeezed Grandpa’s cashmere sweater, shaking my head so hard tears flew from my eyes. Dad—David Pierce—came down the winding marble staircase from his study. Seeing me in tears, his face darkened instantly, and he strode across the room, lifting me straight out of Grandpa’s arms and onto his hip. "Who made my little princess cry?" I wrapped my small arms around Dad’s neck, my hand still trembling as I pointed behind him, right at Sienna. Dad turned his sharp gaze toward her. Sienna hugged the teddy bear to her chest, pulling off a tight, pained smile. "Mr. Pierce, I didn't do anything. I think Nora is just wary of strangers." She took a slow step toward us. "Here, let me..." My whole body went marble-stiff. Dad caught the sudden, violent tremor running through me and instinctively took a half-step back, putting distance between us and her. Sienna froze. A flash of sharp irritation flickered across the bottom of her eyes—so fast a casual observer would have missed it—before she sank back into her wounded persona. "Right. I’ll keep my distance," she murmured softly. "I don't want to frighten her." To everyone in that room, she looked like the definition of grace and understanding. Only I saw it. As she brushed past Dad’s shoulder, her lips moved, forming three silent, poisonous words just for me: Little useless bitch. A cold chill ran down my spine. Harrison hadn't seen it. He only saw me suddenly squirming in Dad’s arms, my foot catching the hem of Sienna’s silk dress. "Nora Pierce!" It was the first time in my life he had ever used my full name in anger. I froze, stunned. Sienna stepped quickly in front of him, tears spilling over her cheeks. "Harrison, don't raise your voice at her! I'm really not upset, I promise." The more she played the martyr, the more Harrison’s protective instinct flared—for her. He looked at me, suppressing an unfamiliar edge of frustration. "Nora, stop throwing tantrums." Sienna dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief. When no one was looking, she flicked her eyes up at me. Her gaze was pure, triumphant venom. I stared at my brother, numb. In my past life, I had waited until my breathing stopped, and even then, I never got to see the day my brother believed me over her. This life had to be different. I couldn't let her win again. Sienna was invited to stay for dinner. At the dining table, her performance was flawless. She refilled Grandpa’s tea with exact precision, remembered without asking that Dad never touched cilantro, and even quietly reminded the butler to swap my iced fruit juice for warm water. "Nora’s stomach is delicate," she explained smoothly. "Cold drinks might give her a chill." Harrison’s expression softened as he looked at her. "How do you even know all of that?" Sienna blushed faintly. "You mentioned it once. Anything that involves Nora... I want to remember." I sat between Dad and Grandpa, my small fingernails digging deep into my palms. Of course she remembered. In my past life, to orchestrate my "accidents," she had memorized my medical history like a holy text. She knew a trace of mango gave me hives. And she knew, above all else, that hazelnut would choke the life out of me. After dinner, Sienna walked over to my drawing nook in the sunroom and knelt down. "Nora, do you want to go see the koi pond in the conservatory?" I shook my head frantically. That was where she had hurt me for the first time in my past life. Behind the tall orchid racks at the far end of the conservatory, there was a blind spot in the security cameras. She had taken a porcelain cup filled with scalding tea and pressed the hot ceramic against the back of my hand until my skin blistered. Then she had carried me out into the hallway, crying hysterically, claiming I had accidentally knocked over her tea. From that day on, the mere mention of the conservatory made my stomach turn to water. I turned to run, but her hand shot out, clamping around my small wrist like a iron vise. She smiled warmly at the passing maid. "I’m taking Nora to look for her hair clip. I think she dropped it near the glass house earlier." The maid didn't suspect a thing. "Thank you, Miss Sienna. You’re so attentive." Panic surged through me like fire. I kicked my feet, trying to call out for Dad, but my vocal cords felt like they were packed with wet sand. Not a sound came out. Sienna carried me down the long, carpeted hallway toward the conservatory doors, leaning down so her lips brushed my ear. "Don't be scared, sweetheart," she purred in a low, terrifying hum. "Sister is going to take such good care of you." The blood in my veins turned to ice. As we neared the turn in the hallway, I saw a heavy blue-and-white porcelain vase sitting on a marble pedestal. I reached out blindly and grabbed the rim with all my strength. Sienna’s tone flattened into something cruel and cold. "Still trying to make a scene? The more you act out, the more everyone realizes what an spoiled, unbearable brat you are." The heavy oak doors of the conservatory were right in front of us. Driven by pure survival instinct, I turned my head and bit down as hard as I could into her shoulder. Sienna gasped from the sharp pain, her grip slackening for a fraction of a second. I tumbled to the floor, my knees cracking hard against the parquet wood. Pain shot up my leg, but I scrambled up immediately and sprinted back toward the main living room. Behind me, Sienna’s voice rang out, high and worried: "Nora! Stop running, sweetie, the floor is slippery!" I slammed right into Dad’s legs as I rounded the corner. Dad caught me easily, his hands wrapping around my waist as he lifted me up, his forehead creased with worry. "Baby, what's wrong?" I threw my arms around his neck, shaking violently as tears soaked his shoulder. Sienna rushed into the living room a moment later, out of breath, clutching her left shoulder with tears brimming in her eyes. "Mr. Pierce, I am so, so sorry. I tried to help her find her clip, and she... she suddenly bit me." Dad looked down at her shoulder. Harrison rushed into the room right behind her. Taking in the scene, his face went dark. "Nora, did you bite her?" I shook my head frantically, clutching Dad tighter. Sienna pulled her cardigan sleeve slightly higher, pretending to hide the bite mark while offering an understanding smile. "It's okay, really. It doesn't hurt that much." The more she claimed it didn't hurt, the more my brother’s temper flared against me. "Nora. Apologize. Right now." I went rigid. I opened my mouth, but only empty, dry air passed through my lips. A subtle, dark satisfaction flickered in the back of Sienna’s eyes. She knelt down in front of me again, extending a hand to wipe my tears with infinite gentleness. "It's alright, Harrison. I don't need an apology from a child." As her thumb brushed my cheek, her other hand reached around to the inside of my wrist beneath my long sleeve—and pinched the thin skin with a brutal, twisting force. The sharp, stabbing agony made me jump. She leaned in, her voice a ghost of a whisper against my ear: "You can run once, little girl. You can't run forever." That night, a deep purple bruise bloomed around my wrist. While giving me a bath, Martha, my long-time nanny, saw it immediately. "Oh, my sweet girl... how did you get this?" Before I could point or react, a soft knock sounded on the bathroom door. "Martha? Is Nora still awake?" Sienna’s voice drifted in. "I brought her some freshly baked bedtime cookies." My entire body went rigid. Sienna walked in holding a tiny porcelain plate. Seeing the bruise on my arm, her expression transformed into exaggerated shock. "Oh goodness, Nora! Did you get that when you fell in the hallway earlier?" Martha swallowed the lie instantly. "Ah, of course. Poor little thing was running so fast, she must have knocked against the doorframe." Sienna picked up a golden cookie and held it out to my mouth. "Consider this an apology from me, okay? I checked with the chef—absolutely no nuts in these." I stared at the cookie, my breathing growing shallow and fast. In my past life, the very first time she triggered my allergic reaction, it had started with cookies exactly like these. I clamped my mouth shut, turning my head away. Martha coaxed me softly, "Nora, sweetie, Miss Sienna was kind enough to bring them to you. Just take one little bite?" Sienna smiled, her eyes wide and innocent. I suddenly reached out, grabbing the edge of the plate, and slammed it down onto the tile floor. CRASH. Porcelain shattered into dozens of sharp white teeth across the bathroom floor. Sienna took a dramatic step back, her hands flying to her mouth as tears spilled over. "Did... did I do something wrong again?" Martha looked terrified. "Nora! How could you do that?!" I stood in the middle of the bathroom, my wet skin cold, shaking uncontrollably. After that night, Sienna’s visits to the estate became a daily routine. She sat in the tearoom playing chess with Grandpa. She helped Dad organize his law documents in the library. She brought home-cooked lunches to Harrison’s office. And, of course, she brought "special treats" for me. I refused every single one. Every time I turned away, she would look at Harrison with red-rimmed eyes. "Nora still refuses to accept me. I don't know what else I can do." Caught in the middle, Harrison grew visibly exhausted. He came into my room late one afternoon, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Nora... why do you hate her so much?" I had no words to offer him. So I picked up my crayons. I drew a picture of a woman standing inside a glass house. I drew a tiny girl collapsed on the floor, her hands clasped around her own throat. I thrust the paper into Dad’s hands when he got home from work. Dad studied the crayon drawing for a long time, his brow furrowed deep into a line. "Nora... are you trying to tell me that Sienna is hurting you?" I nodded with everything I had. Dad didn't dismiss me. He immediately called Benson, our head of security, and ordered him to review the conservatory footage from that afternoon. But I hadn't stepped inside the conservatory that day. The cameras only caught Sienna carrying me down the hallway, me biting her shoulder, and me running away. The hot tea cup in the drawing hadn't happened yet in this timeline. The pink bear had been searched by Martha, but the pin was already gone. Dad didn't punish me, but without physical evidence, the investigation hit a wall. Sienna found out almost immediately. The next afternoon, while Martha went down to the kitchen to fetch my evening medicine, Sienna pushed open the door to my playroom. The door clicked shut behind her. She leaned her back against the wooden frame, slowly clapping her hands together. "My, my. Aren't you a clever little thing?" I backed away into the corner of the room, my heel hitting the wainscoting. She walked over, bent down, and grabbed my chin in a grip so tight her manicured nails dug into my skin. "Too bad you’re just a useless, silent freak." I cried silently as the pain flared in my jaw. "You can draw a hundred pictures," she sneered, her voice dripping with disgust. "To everyone else, you're just a spoiled, crazy little monster hallucinating things." Before releasing me, she grabbed a thick red crayon from my table and drew several jagged, aggressive scribbles directly across the front of my white dress. A moment later, the door opened. Martha walked in with a tray. Sienna was already on her knees in front of me, using a damp napkin to dab at my dress, looking distraught. "Nora, don't cry, it's just a little crayon. Sister will help you wash it out." Seeing my tears and the ruined dress, Martha assumed I had thrown another destructive tantrum. "Oh, Miss Sienna, you shouldn't have to deal with this." Sienna offered a weary, sweet smile. "It's no trouble at all." As she turned to leave, her lips silently moved again. Little bitch. My shivering intensified. That evening, Grandpa brought me into his private study. He pointed to the picture of the cake I had drawn earlier that day. "Nora... did she try to give you something bad to eat?" I nodded. Grandpa paused, his voice low. "Does she know about your hazelnut allergy?" I nodded again. Grandpa sat in silence for a long moment. Then he reached for the intercom on his desk. "Benson." "Yes, Mr. Pierce?" "Starting today, every item of food that enters Nora’s room must be logged and tested separately. Change the lock on the medical storage room to a dual-authorization keycard. And clear every single security camera blind spot on this estate by tomorrow morning." I felt a tiny knot in my chest untie. But Sienna moved faster than anyone expected. The next morning, I saw her standing at the far end of the service corridor, speaking to a newly hired kitchen assistant. The girl was holding a small amber glass bottle labeled Vanilla Extract in English. In my past life, I knew that scent. When hazelnut paste was blended into heavy cream, it produced that exact, sickly-sweet vanilla aroma. I started to move toward them, but Sienna’s eyes flicked over, catching mine. She gave me a tiny, slow smile. There wasn't a trace of warmth in it. It was the smile of a predator watching its prey step into a cage. The evening before the annual Pierce family banquet, Harrison came to my bedroom. He sat beside my bed, watching me pull my blanket up to my chin in defense. His eyes were heavy with sadness. "Nora," he said quietly. "Even if I get married someday, no one is ever going to replace you. You're my sister. Why can't you just give her a chance?" When the door clicked shut, I sat in the dark, tears falling silently onto my knees. I was running out of time. The night of the grand dinner arrived. The dining room was filled with soft candlelight and classical music. I sat between Grandpa and Dad. Across the table sat Harrison, and beside him sat Sienna, dressed in an ivory lace gown, looking as pure as a porcelain saint. She was extraordinarily modest that evening. Whenever a family friend complimented her, she blushed softly and whispered, "It’s all thanks to Harrison’s guidance." Halfway through the meal, an older associate raised his glass to Harrison. "First time you’ve brought a young lady to the family dinner, Harrison. Looks like we’ll be hearing wedding bells soon." Sienna lowered her head, her hand resting gently, purposefully, over her lower abdomen. My heart plummeted into my stomach. In my past life, she had used a fake pregnancy test to force the family’s hand and secure her place in the mansion. She was playing the exact same card tonight. When dessert was served, my hands began to shake. A tray of small artisanal cakes was brought out. Mine was the smallest, topped with a delicate sugar strawberry. Sienna picked up the small plate herself, walked around the long mahogany table, and knelt right beside my chair. She smiled up at me with infinite sweetness. "Nora, I had the chef prepare this specifically for you." She scooped up a tiny silver spoon filled with cream and brought it toward my lips. "No nuts at all—I checked with the kitchen four times to be completely sure. Will you take one little bite for me?" Then I caught it. Hazelnuts. It was faint—so faint that anyone without a fatal sensitivity would never notice it. I could never forget it. Before I died in my past life, my mouth, my throat, my lungs were filled with that exact, suffocatingly sweet smell. I jerked my head back. Sienna’s free hand immediately reached under the dangling edge of the tablecloth and grabbed my knee. Her fingers pinpointed the exact spot where she had bruised me days ago, digging her manicured nails into the raw flesh. Agony flared behind my eyes, turning my vision white. Dad noticed my sudden rigidity. "Nora?" Sienna immediately looked up, her eyes brimming with sudden tears. "Did... did I scare her again?" She looked back at me, her smile still warm and gentle for the room to see. Her voice dropped into a tiny whisper, so soft it was meant only for my ears: "You can't dodge this forever, you little leech. Once you're dead, Harrison is mine." BOOM. My brain exploded into pure, blinding terror. No. No! I won't die again. I won't let Dad hold my cold body until dawn. I won't watch Grandpa’s hair turn white in a single week. I won't let my brother spend the rest of his life living in a trap made by this monster. The silver spoon was inches from my lips. Everyone in the room was watching. Harrison frowned, looking at me with that familiar, disappointed plea for me to stop making a scene. I lunged forward and grabbed Harrison’s tuxedo sleeve with both hands, clutching the fabric like a lifeline. He blinked, startled. "Nora?" I opened my mouth. My throat felt as if it were being torn open by a rusty blade. The pain brought instant tears spilling over my lashes. Sienna’s face flickered with a brief split-second of shock, but she quickly recovered, about to pull the spoon back. In that fraction of a second, every ounce of horror, rage, and love I had carried across two lifetimes erupted from the depths of my chest. I tightened my grip on Harrison’s sleeve, straining with every fiber of my soul. And into the silent, grand dining room, a voice rasped out—hoarse, broken, and agonizingly raw: "Her... cake..." I sobbed out the words, screaming through the rust of two silent years: "...has... hazelnuts!" The entire room froze instantly. Every face at the table turned bone-white.
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