"Really? $2,000? You're such a cheap-ass. That won't even cover a night out. Cough up $5,000!" my brother Tyler yelled as he hit her.

I rushed in and slammed the door behind me. In my past life, it was usually me he hit. Whenever I saw him hitting our mom, I'd jump in, hoping to shield her from the blows. But she saw his aggression as a sign of "manhood", believing that only a man who could throw a punch was worth his salt. Sometimes when Tyler was pissed, she'd even egg him on to hit me instead, thinking it'd help him "get it out of his system" so he could do big things outside.

As I walked in, he didn't stop. My mom, thinking she'd found her knight in shining armor, quickly said, "Tyler! Go on, hit her! The deadbeat who's been mooching off us for years, she can take a hit or two!"

He charged at me, but I stood firm against the doorframe and said coldly, "Lay a hand on me and forget about your down payment." His fist lowered.

I'm still me, but having lived through my past life, I've seen right through what they call family love, so now I don't mince words or hold back as much.

"Keep hitting her, she'll surely cough up more cash, and I'll throw in an extra grand, what do you say?" Tempted by the prospect of more money, my brother resumed beating our mom.

"Sunny, you money pit! Just gonna stand there while your mom gets walloped?" She screamed at me while he pinned her down, throwing punches.

"Mom, isn't it great to see how ‘manly' your son is? I'll snap a photo for you in a sec!"

Tyler calmed down after his tantrum, but before he could hit me up for cash, my mom piped up, "Those last few punches? Worth more than a thousand, make it fifteen hundred!" Even in my second life, her audacity shocked me. She deserved what she got.

After grabbing the money, my brother took off to hang out.

"What are you doing back here! You're gonna mess up getting that down payment!" my mom snapped as she swept up hair from the floor.

"Not yet."

"I swear, raising you was a waste! You've been married into Boas' family for ages and you've brought nothing back!" Indeed, after marrying Ethan, my mom would call every other day asking for stuff. Because I loved Ethan and didn't want him caught up in my family's drama, I rarely met her unreasonable demands, just sent her enough to cover basic expenses.

"Just look at Mitton's daughter next door, didn't even finish middle school, and couldn't find a good job, so she sold a kidney to scrape together a down payment for her brother! And you, what have you done besides bringing home a measly $100,000 dowry? Nothing!" She was ready to swing a broom at me.

"A mom pushing her daughter to sell organs, that's a new one," I scoffed. "I might not get you a down payment, but I could get your son a house and a car all at once!"

My mom stopped in her tracks, suddenly interested, and asked me what I meant. I explained Zack's disappearance and mentioned that Felicity would be filing for divorce soon. Felicity was still looking for Zack, too scared to divorce for fear of retaliation, but what if she knew he was never coming back?

Zack's family had been relocated, receiving five properties and five million dollars in cash. Felicity wouldn't have married him if he hadn't been rich. After hearing my plan, my mom hurriedly pushed me to "get on with it", perfectly aligning with what I was thinking, so I left.

Ethan and his sister must've schemed something up because he was oddly sweet when I got home. His looks were like he was counting down my days. Well, we'll see about that.

This weekend was locked in for a shopping spree with my friends—a much-needed break after years of hustling alongside Ethan in our startup. As I was torn between driving and taking a cab, Ethan pushed for the car.

"Come on, enjoy your day out. It's a real hassle to catch a cab near that mall; driving's your best bet," he reassured me.

"But parking's a fortune too, I'm trying to be thrifty here," I protested. Even after a fresh start in life, old habits stick hard.

"We're flush, babe, don't sweat the small stuff! Just drive," he insisted, nearly pleading.

"If you don't drive, it'll really bug me!" His concern seemed sincere, but from a guy plotting to clean me out in a divorce, it felt off. There was definitely something fishy going on.

I left as he wanted, driving away, but stopped midway to make a call to Ethan's mother.

"Hey, Mom, didn't you want to drive lately? I've got the car out—come on down."

My mother-in-law is 70 this year, her eyesight not what it used to be. Though she got her license two decades ago, she hadn't driven since. Given her poor vision, the family has forbidden her from driving, and I've always stuck to Ethan's strict rules about not letting her near the car.

We didn't live far apart, and she hurried over after my call. I handed her the keys and said, "If you're itching to get behind the wheel, you should head to busier areas," and I set the GPS for the mall before catching a cab myself. Ethan's sketchy demeanor clued me in that something was up with that car.

...

I was laughing it up in the bar, passing candy with a male model through lips, when my phone blew up with alerts. I ignored it at first, but soon saw I had over ten missed calls—all from Ethan and his sister.

I answered to Ethan's explosive tirade, "Dammit, Sunny! Who said you could let Mom take the car? You know she's not supposed to drive!"

Running my fingers over the model's ripped abs, I cooed, "Babe, I'm sorry, I really didn't want to let her drive, but she was throwing a fit—threatened to jump off the balcony if I didn't hand over the keys! I couldn't stop her, and she wouldn't let me follow or even tell you!" The model looked taken aback by my acting chops.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Mom's now in the hospital, a vegetable! Are you happy now?"

Well, she's a vegetable now, huh? Fantastic! Neither you nor your mom ever did right by me, maybe I've done everyone a favor.

Reluctantly keeping up appearances, I said a dramatic goodbye to the model and hopped in a cab to the hospital. I arrived to find Ethan manhandling the driver responsible for the accident, throwing punches.

"You told me to hit her! How was I supposed to know who was in the car? I just went by the plate!" The driver managed to get a few hits in on Ethan.

I intervened to break it up, really just holding Ethan back as the driver kept swinging. "Babe, cut it out! What's this he's saying about you telling him to hit Mom? What's really going on?"

"It was him!" Just as the driver was about to spill the beans, Ethan suddenly pulled it together and dragged the driver into the hallway. Shortly after, the driver left, and Ethan returned to the hospital room side.

"Babe, what in the world is going on? Why would the driver claim you told him to do it?" I asked, feigning confusion.

"Ignore his crap! He's just throwing mud to see what sticks!" Ethan quickly denied, looking visibly rattled.

"So, what's our next move?"