In my past life, when my grandmother was on her deathbed, my twin sister and I were summoned to her side. It was time to divide the family assets. I drew the lot for the old family estate in the countryside. My sister, Iris, inherited the thriving factory. A few years later, her factory went bankrupt due to mismanagement. Meanwhile, the dilapidated estate everyone had dismissed was slated for a major development project. The government buyout made me a multi-millionaire overnight. I became the object of everyone’s envy, a nouveau-riche success story. Iris was left destitute. When I went to visit her, bringing gifts, she looked at me with pure hatred and plunged a knife into my heart. “Why should you get so much money without even trying?” she screamed. “I worked myself to the bone for that factory, and I ended up a beggar!” The pain was absolute. My consciousness faded. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my grandmother’s bedside. This time, I made the first move. “Grandma, we don’t need to draw lots. Let Iris choose first.” … 1 “Penny, don’t pretend to be so generous,” my mother snapped impatiently. “There are only two of you. As the older sister, you should listen to your younger sister anyway.” “She told you to draw first, so just do it. Stop wasting time.” I was taken aback for a second, then a bitter smile touched my lips. Iris raised an eyebrow, her voice soft. “Grandma said drawing lots is the only fair way. But since my sister is letting me go first, I suppose I’ll just…” She was the same as always—playing the part of the innocent, sweet girl while finding the perfect moment to splash mud on me. My father cut her off, ignoring her act. “Penny, you draw first.” I was surprised. My parents had always doted on Iris, giving her the best of everything. Why, on a matter this important, were they insisting I choose first? “How about this,” Grandma said, pushing herself up in bed with a cough. “No drawing lots. Let Iris pick what she wants, and Penny will take the other. It’s a good thing for a child to know how to be considerate.” Iris bit her lip, her eyes darting back and forth as if weighing a heavy decision. Then, she spoke slowly. “I… I want the old family estate.” The air in the room seemed to crystallize. A strange, heavy silence descended. I saw my parents’ eyes go wide with shock, their mouths agape. So, Iris, you were reborn too. In our last life, she couldn’t wait to draw first. This time, her performance of self-sacrifice was clearly a calculated move to avoid repeating her mistakes. A cold smirk formed in my mind. “The old estate?” my father murmured, his voice laced with disbelief. Grandma shot a sharp look at my sister, then spoke. “Then the factory will go to Penny.” No one dared to defy my grandmother. The agreements were signed right there, at her bedside. My parents then left with Iris, leaving me behind to look after Grandma. I quietly followed them out, pressing myself against the wall to overhear their conversation. “Iris, honey, what were you thinking, choosing the estate?” my mother asked, her tone thick with frustration. “You know it’s worthless! The factory has a much brighter future.” Iris was unfazed, her voice bright with a secret excitement. “You don’t understand! The estate is going to make me rich! I’ll be a millionaire!” My father just ruffled her hair, his voice dripping with affection. “Our Iris can have whatever she wants. Daddy will always have your back.” Then, he added casually, “Next time, just tell me what you want beforehand, sweetheart. You have no idea—your mother and I wrote ‘ancestral home’ on both slips of paper for the drawing.” “After your sister drew her lot, we were just going to announce the other one was the factory without even opening it.” The words were a bitter pill. It was all a setup, a scheme to ensure their precious Iris got the more valuable asset. I felt a sudden warmth on my cheek and realized I was crying. I’d always known they favored her, but why did it still hurt so much? I walked back to the room in a daze. Grandma patted the bed, motioning for me to sit. From under her pillow, she pulled out a thick file folder. “Penny, my dear,” she said, her voice weak. “I know your parents’ favoritism runs so deep it could fill an ocean.” “What’s in this folder… I suspect it’s what you’ll need most.” “When you have truly hit rock bottom, when you have nowhere else to turn, open it. Don’t tell them about it. This is the last thing your grandma can do for you.” She told me this between fits of coughing. I finally broke, collapsing into her arms, my body wracked with sobs. I wasn’t unloved. Someone in this world truly loved me. When I got home, I hid the folder in the safest place I could find. 2 The factory was on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t large, but it was well-kept. When I first arrived, the workers welcomed me with warmth and respect. For a few days, I felt like I had won at life. But I knew it was just an illusion. With Iris choosing the estate, my parents felt she had made a great sacrifice. They treated her like a fragile treasure, spoiling her beyond belief. “What does our darling Iris want to eat today?” “Lobster!” This was our daily reality. Whatever Iris wanted, she got. Designer clothes, the newest phone, luxury handbags—nothing was denied her. I would see her and my mother at the mall, hand-in-hand, and each time it felt like a needle piercing my heart. One evening at home, I glanced for a moment too long at Iris and her new shopping bags. My father’s voice cut through the silence. “What are you looking at?” he snapped. “You got the whole factory. Isn’t that enough for you?” He slammed his fork down, rattling the plates on the table. “Your sister was considerate of you. The least you can do is be grateful.” “Remember to use your earnings to buy nice things for your sister, you hear me?” I didn’t answer. I just lowered my head, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. My days were a blur of work until the early hours of the morning—checking accounts, chasing orders, negotiating prices, adjusting production schedules. In my past life, my parents had handled all of this for Iris. They had indulged her every whim, even sinking a fortune into a useless raw material that never yielded a viable product. When the factory failed, they blamed their own incompetence, never once casting fault on her. “Ma’am, have you reviewed last night’s production plan?” my assistant asked one evening, his voice gentle. It was another late night at the factory. I nodded, rubbing my tired eyes. “It’s late, Cole. You should go home. Take tomorrow off.” He hesitated, then left, closing the door softly behind him. The office was quiet again. Business was stable, neither booming nor failing. I thought I could just keep things afloat, but one morning, Cole burst into my office. “Ma’am, it’s bad! Mr. Harrison just called. He’s raising the price of our raw materials by fifty percent!” The folder in my hand slipped and clattered to the floor. “Did he say why?” Cole shook his head helplessly. “Set up a dinner. I’ll talk to him. See if there’s any room to negotiate.” At the restaurant, Mr. Harrison’s smile was painfully fake. “Penny,” he said, raising his glass, “it’s not personal. The economy’s been tough. We have to make a living too.” “I understand,” I replied, matching his smile and raising my own glass. After a few drinks, he was thoroughly drunk. “Penny…” he slurred, leaning in conspiratorially. “If you want to blame someone… you should blame your parents, not me…” “It was your parents… they came to me… told me to raise the price.” “Said your sister thought a young person needed… to be tested. That it was for your own good.” The rest of his words were a drunken mumble. The room started to spin. Iris. It was you again. I tried so hard to stay out of your way, but you just won’t let me be. 3 The factory was on life support. I was spinning like a top, so busy I didn’t even have time to visit my grandmother. I’d been living at the factory for a week straight when my parents called to tell me she had passed away. I felt like I was floating, completely disconnected from my own body. “Your factory has money, doesn’t it? You can pay for the funeral,” my mother said, her tone a command. “Mom, things are tight at the factory right now. I don’t have the money…” I mumbled, ashamed. “Grandma doted on you your whole life, and you won’t even give her a decent funeral?” my father roared, his face turning purple. I had no choice. I scraped together every last penny I had and gave my grandmother a respectable service. At the funeral, my parents and Iris wept dramatically. “Iris loved her grandmother so much,” my mother told the other relatives, dabbing her eyes. “She even paid for this beautiful funeral herself.” But it was my money. I stepped forward to correct her, but my father grabbed me and dragged me into a corner. “Were you about to say something?” he hissed, his hand tight on my collar. “What is there to explain? You took the factory. This is what you owe her. So what if we ask you to spend a little money on her behalf?” His tone shifted to an accusatory growl. “Don’t you want to hear people praise your sister?” Why was it that everything I did ended up being a victory for her? A lump formed in my throat. I fought back tears and shook my head. “No.” “You’d better not. I’m telling you, if you say one word out of line at your grandmother’s funeral, you’ll regret it.” He shoved me away and went back to comforting his grieving wife and daughter. The week after the funeral, we were supposed to have a memorial dinner for the family. Of course, I was expected to pay for that, too. Iris arrived like a movie star, dressed in a new designer dress, a diamond-encrusted clutch in her hand. “My poor sister, you’ve been working so hard,” she said, feigning concern as she greeted our relatives. “The factory must be in a tough spot. But you’re determined to be an entrepreneur, aren’t you? You can’t give up over a few small setbacks.” The monumental obstacles she had created were dismissed as “small setbacks.” I nearly laughed out loud. She linked her arm through mine. “I believe in you, sister. You won’t fail right out of the gate, will you?” The relatives chuckled. “Penny doesn’t really have the makings of a businesswoman, does she?” “It’s only been a month and the factory is already on the verge of collapse.” “Honestly, Penny, you should have just given the factory to Iris. She would have done a much better job.” Their words were a physical weight on my chest. I forced a smile, my fingers gripping my napkin so tightly my knuckles turned white. “I’ll do my best,” I managed to say, the taste of blood in my mouth.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "384615", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel