My best friend, Lydia Stone, once saved my life, and after learning of her tragic background, I offered to support her.

She started using my credit cards, driving my sports car, and quickly became the envy of our classmates, seen as a wealthy young lady.

However, when our artwork was strikingly similar in a painting competition, everyone accused me of plagiarism.

My participation was disqualified, my identity was exposed, and I was subjected to online abuse that made me afraid to leave the house.

My father attempted to clear my name on a live stream, but the flood of angry comments led him to a heart attack, and he died on the spot.

My mother, devastated by the loss, suffered a stroke and became paralyzed.

Exhausted and heartbroken, I was abducted off the street late one night and brutally killed.

Meanwhile, my best friend used my artwork to catapult to fame. The controversy over the plagiarism earned her sympathy from netizens, and she became a rising star in the art world.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back before the competition, and my friend, casually swiping my card, cheerfully announced, "Today, I'm treating everyone to a seafood buffet!"

——

"Wow, is it the new seafood buffet downtown? It's 2499 dollars a person!"

"Lydia is so generous! She always treats us to high-end restaurants!"

"Can't argue with that! Lydia is as beautiful as she is kind. Ever since we became friends, we've been living the high life."

When Lydia saw me frowning, she lightly patted my shoulder.

"Meryl, aren't you busy with your artwork? I'll treat you next time."

I took a moment to shake off the lingering joy of being reborn.

Lydia often took advantage of my absences to take our classmates out for meals and fun.

She was always considerate enough to tell them that I wasn't familiar with them, so they felt more relaxed and open when I wasn't around.

She told them every time that it was my treat, so they felt grateful to me.

In reality, she spun a different story, saying that I didn't want to hang out with them because I found them boring and dumb.

This led everyone to view me as a snob and a miser, reinforcing their negative opinions of me.

I was so absorbed in my art that I didn't notice their growing resentment.

It wasn't until the international painting competition before graduation that things came crashing down.

My and Lydia's artworks were strikingly similar. Everyone quickly accused me of copying Lydia. They called me antisocial and malicious, insisting that I didn't have the talent to produce such a vibrant piece and must have stolen it from Lydia.

No matter how much I tried to explain, no one believed me. I had no friends, and aside from Lydia, no one had seen my painting.

Meanwhile, Lydia frequently invited them to watch her work, making them convinced that I was the thief.

I was cyberbullied to the point where I was afraid to leave the house.

My father, seeing my distress, immediately went live to clear my name.

Lydia, however, orchestrated a mob of her followers to flood the stream, hurling abuse at him.

Overwhelmed and enraged, my father suffered a heart attack and died on the spot.

Only then did I see Lydia's true colors, but it was too late.

My mother, devastated by the loss, suffered a stroke and was left paralyzed.

Exhausted from the constant shuttling between the hospital and home, I was abducted one night. Lydia had hired a gang from her hometown, and they, grinning wickedly, said they wanted to "test out" what a high-class lady was like.

I was brutally tortured and killed, experiencing unimaginable pain before I died.

Now, with the chance to live again, my only goal was to destroy Lydia.

Before starting college, I had been kidnapped.

One evening, after a day of shopping and grabbing a late-night snack, I found myself waiting on the deserted street for my ride.

A van suddenly pulled up in front of me.

I was blindfolded and dragged into the vehicle. Expecting the worst, I was shocked when the kidnappers neither harmed me nor demanded a ransom.

They took me to a river and threw me in.

Not knowing how to swim, I flailed desperately, sinking fast. Just as I was about to drown, someone pulled me out and dragged me back to shore.

At that moment, Lydia's face, marked with acne scars, looked like an angel to me.

She explained that her family couldn't afford her college tuition and planned to marry her off to an elderly village fool for the marriage gift. Overwhelmed by despair, she had decided to end her life by jumping into the river.

Seeing me struggle, she thought it would be better to save me first before going through with her own plans.

She pretended to jump, but I stopped her.

I promised to support her financially and take care of her needs.

When I learned that we'd both been accepted into the same university, I was thrilled.

I arranged her accommodation, gave her a secondary bank card, and used my summer break to teach her how to drive.

But as soon as the school year started, she began flaunting my sports car and using my card to buy luxury items for our classmates.

She even told everyone that I was just the daughter of her maid.

She claimed that because I had been kidnapped before, she could help mislead any potential threats.

I thought her reasoning made sense, so I went along with it.

Lydia frequently came to me in tears, saying her family was pressuring her to marry.

As her close friend, I generously gave her an extra 50 thousand dollars annually to help her escape her family's demands.

She would often complain that no one liked me in the dorm and that my roommates spoke poorly of me behind my back, and to defend me; she would frequently argue with them.

Since I preferred solitude, I moved into the apartment my parents had bought for me.

Lydia then spread rumors that my private life was chaotic and that I had moved out to make it easier for my "sugar daddy" to visit.

Freed from my presence, she ramped up her act as the ultimate socialite.

Gradually, I began to feel disconnected from campus life, immersing myself solely in my art.

I was even removed from the class group chat, and Lydia became the go-between for all notifications.

During the last semester, she forgot to inform me of an exam date, causing me to fail the course.

Before I could even be upset, she was already crying and apologizing.

I had believed only she had my best interests at heart. In hindsight, I realized I was nothing but a total sucker.

Thankfully, fate gave me another shot at life.

As I snapped out of my reverie, I looked at my excited classmates and gave a faint smile.

"Drawing has been exhausting lately," I said, "so today, I'd like to take a break."

Lydia, looking flustered, nudged me. "But you said that painting was really important to you. Is it really okay to skip a whole night?"

"It's fine. It's almost done anyway."

I tried to reach out to my former roommate, Louisa Lane, but she recoiled. She looked at me with obvious disdain.

"Meryl, you have some kind of infection. Don't come so close."

I immediately grabbed Lydia's hand, feigning hurt. "How could I have an infection? Lydia wears my clothes and uses my things every day, and she's perfectly fine. How could I be contagious?"

Lydia's face flushed with embarrassment, and she froze in place.

I couldn't help but smirk at her discomfort.

I thought, You love to play games, don't you? Let me tear away your mask piece by piece.

We arrived at the restaurant, and the waiter, seeing our group of over a dozen, greeted us with a broad smile and led us to the best table.

As I pulled out a chair to sit down, Louisa pointed at me with irritation and told the waiter I wasn't part of their group.

The waiter, looking uncomfortable, asked me to sit elsewhere. Just as I was picking up a plate, Louisa's voice cut through again, dripping with sarcasm.

"I was just trying to warn you. She has an infection. If this fancy restaurant ends up with other guests getting sick because of her, can you cover the cost?"

Seeing the waiter's distress, I calmly dropped my plate.

I thought, If they don't want to serve me, so be it. I'll let them deal with the fallout.

I headed to McDonald's, bought a meal, and took a seat outside, watching them through the glass while I ate.

Apparently, having someone watch while eating wasn't exactly appetizing—soon, everyone put down their forks and declared they were full.

The waiter brought the bill, and I glanced at it—it was nearly 40 thousand dollars. Lydia, with a nonchalant air, pulled out my card and handed it to the waiting waiter.

Her calm demeanor made me wonder if the card had been hers all along.

Everyone around her showered her with praise for being both beautiful and generous, and Lydia basked in the attention, looking like she was floating in the air.

But reality hit her hard when the waiter returned with a serious look.

"I'm sorry, but this card isn't going through. Do you have cash or another payment method?"

Lydia's face turned a deep shade of red as she stared at the card in disbelief. She examined it repeatedly.

Her friends began grumbling about the restaurant's outdated equipment, blaming them for not accepting the card.

The waiter explained apologetically, "It's not our equipment. This card has been reported lost."

As Lydia's expression shifted to one of realization, she fixed a steely gaze on me, who was now enjoying the show from outside.

I leisurely got up, brushed off crumbs, and shrugged in her direction.

I thought, Looks like you've been playing this part for so long, you've started to believe it yourself. Lydia, it's time to wake up from your princess fantasy.

Seeing my nonchalant reaction, Lydia blushed even more.

She signaled for silence, saying she needed to make a call to figure out what was going on.