I was born with a one-track mind—I take everything seriously and do exactly as I'm told.

When my adoptive father cursed a rival company, calling them bloodsucking vampires, I immediately went out, bought ten pounds of garlic and a crucifix, and stormed into their CEO's office to perform an exorcism.

When my adoptive mother said she was willing to sell a kidney for the sake of the company, I contacted an underground black-market clinic on the spot and asked when they could schedule her surgery.

Over time, no one dared joke casually around me anymore. Everyone in the family chose their words with extreme care, terrified I might take them at face value.

That is, until the day of the family reunion banquet—when the fake heiress, who refused to leave no matter what, showed up as well. She hooked her arm through my brother's and flashed me a provocative smile.

"Arista, Benji dotes on me the most," she said sweetly. "He said if anyone dares to make me unhappy, he'll chop them into pieces and dump them in the river to feed the fish."

The banquet hall erupted in laughter. I was the only one whose face went deathly pale.

The next second, I kicked my brother, Benji Collins, straight onto the dining table. I grabbed the silver steak knife and pressed it against his throat.

"Everyone, stay calm," I announced loudly. "I've already called the police! For publicly advocating premeditated murder, desecration of a corpse, and antisocial personality tendencies… The minimum sentence is the death penalty!"

By the time the police burst into the banquet hall, I had my biological brother, Benji Collins, pinned with his face smashed firmly into a platter of lobster.

The officer leading the team was clearly stunned, staring at my expensive evening gown and the disastrous mess covering the table.

"What's going on here?" he asked. "Filming a movie?"

I didn't even turn my head. "Not a movie. A criminal case."

"Officer, it's him!"

I drove my knee into his back, keeping him completely immobilized.

"The suspect, Benji, just publicly described in detail a plan to dismember a body and dispose of it by dumping it into the river. He has the means to carry it out. I formally request his immediate arrest!"

The entire hall fell silent. Guests froze with wineglasses still raised, expressions locked in place.

Benji struggled in the greasy sauce, letting out muffled, furious roars.

"Are you insane, Arista? I was speaking figuratively! I was just trying to scare you! Let go of me!"

I tightened my grip and turned my head slightly to report to the police.

"This is intimidation. He's attempting to coerce me into withdrawing my report."

Then I pulled out my phone, opened the audio recording, and played it aloud.

Benji's irritable voice rang out, clear and unmistakable.

"Arista, I'm telling you—if you dare make Carmen upset again, I'll chop you into pieces and throw you into the river to feed the fish!"

I calmly explained to the officers, "'Chop into pieces' constitutes a specific method of committing the crime. 'Throw into the river to feed the fish' clearly identifies the disposal location and method.

"Under the criminal code, this is called criminal preparation—not a metaphor."

"Arista, please let Benji go!" The fake heiress, Carmen, rushed forward in tears, trying to pull me away. "He only said it out of anger because he loves me too much!"

I ignored her and pointed straight at her as I addressed the police.

"Officer, this woman is an accomplice who incited the crime. 'Anyone who makes her unhappy' was the explicit motive Benji identified. She knowingly exploited Benji's violent tendencies and subjectively pursued the outcome of me being harmed."

Carmen's sobs caught in her throat as she stared at me in disbelief.

At last, my adoptive parents reacted.

My adoptive mother charged at me, raising her hand to slap me. "You lunatic! You absolute lunatic! Are you trying to disgrace our family?!"

I twisted aside and dodged the blow, my grip never loosening.

My adoptive father's face darkened as he spoke to the officers.

"Officer, this is all a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding. It's just a family matter. My son is immature. I'll apologize to my younger daughter on his behalf."

As he spoke, he reached for his wallet, trying to stuff money into the officer's hand.

The officer stepped back, his expression turning cold.

"Sir, show some respect. Ma'am, we need to verify the situation with you. Do you insist on filing a formal complaint?"

Without hesitation, I replied, "I do. I request that a case be opened immediately. Benji has severe violent tendencies, and my personal safety is at risk at any time."

"Bullshit!" At those words, Benji somehow found the strength to break free of my restraint.

He kicked over the nearby rosewood round table. With a deafening crash, plates and bowls shattered across the floor.

He pointed at me, eyes bloodshot. "See if I don't kill you today!"

The police moved instantly. Two officers rushed forward and twisted his arms behind his back.

"Violent resistance to law enforcement! Take him away!"

As the handcuffs snapped shut, Benji fixed me with a sinister stare, dark and venomous—like a poisonous snake.

My adoptive parents and Carmen cried and screamed as they chased after him, plunging the banquet hall into chaos.

I smoothed the wrinkled fabric of my gown and walked to the center of the hall.

Facing the terrified guests, I addressed them politely.

"Under the law, knowingly failing to report a crime constitutes aiding and abetting. Your testimonies will affect the final verdict of this case. Please consider your words carefully. Thank you all for cooperating with the police in collecting evidence tonight."

The hall fell into complete silence. No one dared move. And no one dared speak.

The lawyer managed to get Benji bailed out quickly.

The moment he stepped out of the interrogation room, he charged straight at me, finger jabbing at my nose.

The lawyer hurriedly stepped in front of him. "Benji, calm down. This is a police station."

Benji shoved him aside. "Shut your mouth! You don't get to talk here!"

He fixed me with a murderous glare. "When we get home, I'm going to break your legs! I'll make sure you won't be able to crawl your way out of our home again!"

His voice echoed through the station hallway, raw and unrestrained with hatred.

I ignored his roaring and, right in front of the officers, pulled a notebook and pen from my bag.

"9:15 PM, police station," I read aloud as I wrote. "Suspect Benji has again issued a personal threat against me. He threatened to intentionally cause grievous bodily harm—specifically, breaking my legs—

and further showing intent of unlawful confinement."

Benji's expression froze. He clearly hadn't expected me to take this step.

My adoptive mother, trembling with rage, lunged at me, trying to snatch the notebook.

"How far do you intend to take this?! Look at what you've done to Carmen! If anything happens to her, I swear I'll kill you!"

She jabbed a finger at my face, voice sharp and crying.

"You will kneel and apologize to Carmen right now! Or get out of our family! I'll act as if I never had a daughter like you!"

Just then, Carmen, who had been hiding behind Benji, clutched her chest, went limp, and collapsed into Benji's arms.

Pale and weak, she gasped, "Benji… don't blame Arista. It's all my fault… I shouldn't be alive… I've dragged everyone down."

Benji's eyes reddened with anguish as he held her horizontally in his arms.

He turned toward me, and the murderous intent in his gaze almost seemed to seep out.

"Arista, if anything happens to Carmen, I'll make you pay with one of your hands!"

Cradling Carmen, he hurried out.

I called after his retreating figure calmly, "Illegal organ trade and harvesting is a serious crime. Even one hand is enough for years in prison. I suggest you make a right turn out the door and get yourself a psychiatric evaluation first."

Benji's steps faltered for a moment, but he ultimately left without looking back.

The hallway fell silent, leaving only me and my adoptive father.

He glared at me like I was a stranger.

"From now on, all your cards are canceled. Hand over your car keys. Our family's reputation will not be ruined by someone like you. You won't be staying in the villa anymore—go to the servants' quarters at the back."

He tossed a bank card at my feet.

"When you've thought things through, I want you to repent and apologize properly. Until then, don't expect a single penny from us."

I looked down at the card and said nothing.

He thought I had yielded. Snorting, he turned and left.

But in that moment I looked down, the tiny camera hidden in my brooch had already captured everything clearly—threats, abuse, abandonment.

The chain of evidence was complete.

I was driven out of the villa's annex and dumped into a storage room.

The water was cut. The power was cut. In the dead of night, the entire city glittered with lights—except for my tiny room, sunk in total darkness.

The air in the storage room reeked of dust.

I lit a candle I'd dug out from a corner. The flame wavered.

It was cold. I opened the copy of the Criminal Code I always carried and draped it over my legs to keep warm.

Using what little battery my phone had left, I searched for the address of a nearby 24‑hour print shop.

My phone vibrated. It was a message from Carmen.

A photo followed. She was in a brightly lit private hospital VIP ward, flashing a peace sign at the camera.

Carmen: [Arista, the doctor says my kidneys are failing and I need a relative to be matched.]

Carmen: [Relatives have the highest compatibility, you know. Arista, you're my sister. You wouldn't just watch me die, would you? Hehe.]

In the photo, she looked rosy and radiant, makeup flawless—nothing like a patient at all.

Before I could reply, a voice message from Benji came through.

His voice was low, stripped of any room for refusal, edged with cold brutality.

"Tomorrow morning at nine, show up at the Collins Corporation Rehabilitation Center, out in the suburbs. If you dare not show up, I'll have someone tie you up and bring you there. Arista, for Carmen's sake, I don't mind getting a little blood on my hands."

I listened, then calmly typed my reply.

Me: [Noted.]

Me: ['Blood on my hands,' by contextual analysis, refers to forcibly harvesting a human organ through violent means.]

Me: ['Tie you up and bring you there' refers to the commission of the crime of kidnapping.]

There was a long silence before a single message came back.

Benji: [You're insane. Tomorrow is the day you die.]

I turned off my phone and blew out the candle.

I didn't run.

With the printed documents in hand, I called the municipal criminal investigation unit.

"Officer, my name is Arista Collins. I am making a report of an illegal organ trafficking operation located at the Collins Corporation Rehabilitation Center in the suburbs.

"Tomorrow morning at nine, they plan to perform a forced live kidney extraction on me. I will enter voluntarily and provide real-time location data to assist law enforcement."

At eight-thirty the next morning, I arrived right on time at the entrance of the Collins Corporation Rehabilitation Center.

My adoptive mother was already waiting there, looking entirely justified in herself.

"At least you know your place," she said.

She looked me up and down, her eyes devoid of warmth.

"Don't look so gloomy. You should feel honored to save Carmen using your kidney. You should be grateful."

I said nothing and followed her inside.

Deep within the facility was a makeshift operating room.

The air reeked of disinfectant, but the equipment was crude.

Carmen lay on the hospital bed, leisurely playing on her phone. When she saw me enter, she immediately shoved it under her pillow and began to moan weakly.

Benji stood by the bed, a roll of medical restraints in his hand, staring at me coldly.

He lifted his chin and pointed to the empty bed beside hers.

"Are you going to lie down on your own," he asked, "or should I help you?"

He tossed a document in front of me.

"Sign this voluntary donation agreement, and we'll let bygones be bygones."