Deleted but Not Dead

After failing my mission, I was about to be erased by the system—completely wiped from this world.

In the final twenty-four hours before my deletion, I agreed to donate a kidney to my younger sister. My husband, overjoyed, held me tightly and said he would not divorce me anymore.

When my sister stole my design draft, I voluntarily admitted I was the plagiarist. My parents nodded in satisfaction, saying I had finally become sensible.

At last, I became the good wife and good daughter they had always wanted.

But later, when they saw my corpse, they all lost their minds.

[The host has failed the mission. Erasure protocol initiating. Countdown: 24 hours.]

I accepted the outcome calmly.

My husband, Joel Miller, stormed into the room and slammed a divorce agreement down in front of me.

"If you still refuse to donate a kidney to Vivian, then we'll divorce. You'll leave with nothing. Not a single cent."

A month ago, Vivian Pryce was diagnosed with acute nephritis. As her twin sister, I was the most suitable donor.

So the entire family pressured me to give her my kidney. They just didn't know—I only had one kidney left.

When I refused, they called me cold-hearted and ungrateful. My parents threatened to cut ties with me. My husband threatened divorce.

Now that I was going to die anyway, I might as well grant their wish before I vanished.

"I agree to the kidney donation," I said calmly.

Joel froze for a moment, then overwhelming joy flooded his eyes.

He immediately took me to the hospital and informed my parents that I had agreed.

My mother was so excited she nearly cried. She pulled Vivian into her arms tightly.

"My daughter… Vivian… you're going to be saved…"

My father, afraid I would change my mind, quickly called a nurse over and had me sign the donation consent form.

My mother carefully put the document away and looked at me.

"Consider this a moment of enlightenment. Otherwise, we would have cut ties with you for being such an ungrateful wretch. Don't worry, we won't take your kidney for nothing. You'll still have a share of the family's assets."

A bitter smile curled at my lips.

"Give everything to Vivian. I won't need it anymore."

Hearing this, my mother looked relieved and satisfied.

"That's more like it. You're a CEO's wife now anyway. You shouldn't care about such a small fortune. It's only right that everything stays with Vivian. After all, this is what you owe her."

I couldn't help but find it ironic.

To them, everything I had ever done was something I "owed" Vivian.

We were born twins. If she was weak, it was because I had absorbed all the nutrients in the womb—I owed her.

Years ago, when she ran away from an arranged marriage abroad, I took her place and married Joel. That, too, became me stealing her happiness—I owed her again.

If this had been before, I would have argued until I was breathless. But now… I was simply too tired.

Watching their warm, harmonious family scene, I felt like the only outsider who didn't belong.

My eyes turned red. I turned to leave.

But Joel grabbed my wrist.

"Vivian has been in treatment and doesn't have time to draw. Lend her your 'Withered Rose' necklace design draft."

A mocking smile tugged at my lips.

"Are you sure you mean 'lend'?"

Ever since Vivian returned from abroad, she had built her small reputation as a trending jewelry designer by copying my work. Now, she didn't even bother disguising it—she wanted to "borrow" my original draft outright.

My mother immediately glared at me.

"It's your honor that Vivian is using your design. If she weren't sick, her talent would be ten times better than yours!"

If she wanted to borrow it, then so be it. After all, once I was dead, her true abilities would eventually be exposed anyway.

"Fine. I'll go get it," I said.

"No need. I already brought it."

Joel pulled the design draft straight out of his bag and handed it to Vivian.

A smug look flashed across her face as she glanced at me.

I let out a soft laugh.

So whether I agreed or not, the outcome was the same.

When I returned home from the hospital, I looked around at the memories I once shared with them. And I made a decision.

I would erase everything related to me. Not a single trace left behind.

The wedding photos on the wall, the carefully preserved family portraits—everything I once treasured—went straight into the trash.

It was already past midnight by the time I finished cleaning up and lay down to rest.

But just as I fell asleep, a loud crash jolted me awake.