Five years ago, my father owed a staggering debt of six million and was driven to despair by debt collectors.

In the end, he signed a contract with the creditors, agreeing to send his adopted son, Lucian Anderson, into their family as a live-in son-in-law to care for their paralyzed daughter in exchange for clearing the debt.

But later, my father changed the name on the contract to mine.

He promised it was only a temporary compromise—that once I married into the Winslow family, he would find a way to get me out as soon as possible.

I believed him and took Lucian’s place, marrying Juliette Winslow, the creditor’s daughter.

I endured five long years, but my father never came to save me.

Five years later, the Winslow family grew utterly weary of my presence and kicked me out.

When I returned home, my father was presiding over Lucian’s grand wedding to Rosalind Everly.

She was my childhood sweetheart—the woman I loved most.

My father refused to let me in.

"Daniel Anderson, you’ve just come back from the Winslow family, reeking of bad luck. Don’t ruin your brother’s big day."

Inside the hall, Lucian was on one knee, tenderly kissing Rosalind’s hand.

My heart shattered, and I turned to leave.

Dazed, I wandered the streets until, at a crossroads, a truck slammed into me without warning.

Blood bloomed around me like a crimson sea. I died with my eyes wide open, unable to rest in peace.

I don’t know how much time passed before I heard my father’s whisper in my ear.

"Daniel, you have to make this sacrifice… for the sake of the family."

Then I snapped back to reality—I had been reborn.

I stared blankly at my father.

"The family owes so much money. You’re a grown man now; you need to learn to share your father’s burdens."

I lowered my voice. "But the contract was supposed to be for Lucian. I’m your real son—he’s just your adopted one. Why have you always favored him over me?"

My father sighed deeply.

"Precisely because you’re my real son that I can’t show favoritism. Lucian’s birth father died for me—how could I ever mistreat his child?"

Every time I protested the unfairness, he gave me the same speech: Lucian’s father was his sworn brother who died saving him, and he couldn’t betray his friend’s spirit in the afterlife.

So, ever since we were kids, I had to yield to Lucian in everything.

For over a decade, I never got new clothes—only Lucian’s hand-me-downs.

All the good things in the house went to him first. Even during holidays, when we had stewed chicken, both drumsticks were always his.

But the truth was, I’d known for a long time that the family’s debt wasn’t due to my father’s failed business—it was because Lucian had borrowed from loan sharks to fuel his gambling addiction.

Yet my father shouldered that debt as his own and now used his real son to pay it off.

I muttered, "I wish I weren’t your real son either."

"What nonsense are you spouting?" he snapped. "Do you think it doesn’t pain me to send you into the Winslow family to take care of that useless girl? If I weren’t too old, I’d throw myself into that hellhole instead!"

"Besides, this is only temporary. I’ll find a way to get you out soon—don’t you trust your own father?"

I smiled faintly.

"I trust you. Of course I do."

"That’s my good boy."

Some things were already clear to me, but I couldn’t help asking, "Father… how’s your business? Now that the six million is paid off, can you keep it running?"

He froze for a moment before forcing a smile. "Of course! Once the business picks up and I make a fortune, I’ll never let you boys suffer again."

I sighed inwardly. As long as Lucian keeps gambling, is there really any hope for this family? You can cover for him now, but can you do it forever?

I didn’t expect any promises from him. When I got into university, he hadn’t even wanted to pay my tuition—shattering my future.

He used the excuse of family poverty, asking me to be understanding.

University tuition was only around ten thousand, but that same summer, he bought Lucian an eighty-thousand-dollar motorcycle just because Lucian had developed a passion for road trips.

I could tolerate my father’s favoritism, but when it came to my childhood sweetheart, I wasn’t willing to back down even an inch.

That afternoon, I went to see Rosalind.

I knew the Winslow family wasn’t truly evil. In this life, I planned to sever that cursed bond quickly—but only if Rosalind would wait for me, even just for a year.

"Rosalind, that’s all I wanted to say. I know it sounds sudden, but please believe me."

Rosalind blinked her large, innocent eyes—the same expression she’d had since we were children.

Given our history, I thought an immediate agreement would have been an unspoken understanding.

But she hesitated for a long time before finally shaking her head.

"I’m sorry, Daniel. I can’t promise you that."

My heart sank, a chill spreading through my body.

Truthfully, I’d already had a bad feeling—after all, in my past life, she hadn’t resisted marrying Lucian at all. In fact, she had looked happy.

My voice cracked.

"I see. So you’ve already set your heart on someone else."

She shook her head again.

"No. The Andersons and Everlys have had a marriage agreement for years. Uncle Gideon Anderson promised a three-million-dollar dowry for me to marry his son."

"Uncle Gideon has two sons. I didn’t care whether it was you or Lucian, but since you’re being married off to the Winslows, I don’t have a choice."

I clenched my teeth, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or rage. The irony was unbearable.

So it had all been one-sided. What she cared about was the dowry.

"I see."

I turned away.

"But he may not actually have that money."

"No, Uncle Gideon said that for his son’s future, not a single cent would be missing."

The pain in my heart deepened. He had thrown his real son to the Winslows to settle a debt, yet he had cash on hand to fund his eldest son’s wedding.

With nothing left to hold me here, I resolved to go to the Winslow family.

What none of them knew was that Juliette Winslow wasn’t actually paralyzed—she just suffered from severe autism and hadn’t left the house in years.

In my past life, Juliette had fallen deeply in love with me, swearing she’d do anything for me.

But back then, I saw the Winslow family as my prison, desperate to escape.

I waited every day for my father to fulfill his promise and save me, neglecting her in the process.

Until she grew disillusioned, and Mr. Winslow cast me out.

Now, it seemed, perhaps the Winslow family was my true destiny.

There were only three days left before the contract took effect—my final three days in this house.

That night, when I returned home, my father had left food for me.

Lifting the fly cover, I saw the usual: two steamed buns and some bland vegetables without a trace of oil.

"Money’s tight lately. Just bear with it. Once you’re at the Winslows, you’ll have all the luxuries you want."

The house still smelled of meat—if I had to guess, it was his signature fish-fragrant shredded pork.

A dish I was lucky to eat twice a year, but one Lucian had long grown tired of.

I saw through it but said nothing. After all, this had been my life for over a decade.

Chewing on the buns, I made small talk as usual.

"Where’s Lucian? Out again?"

He smiled.

"You know how your brother is—never stays home. But that’s good. A young man needs to explore the world to make something of himself."

I shook my head. More likely, he was at the arcade playing slot machines.

Just last month, he’d been swindled out of six million by loan sharks.

Some people never learn.

After washing the dishes, I returned to my room to rest. For once, my father showed some concern.

"By the way, how are the wedding preparations coming along? Even though it's a matrilocal marriage, we can't be careless—it's your lifelong event, after all."

I smiled wryly. "What's there to prepare? Just send this worthless life to the Winslow family and be done with it. Unless... you're planning to prepare a dowry for me?"

"Don't be ridiculous. The Winslows could snap off a single strand of leg hair, and it'd be thicker than your old man's waist. Even if I scraped together a dowry, would your father-in-law even glance at it?"

"But speaking of which, wasn't this supposed to be a temporary arrangement? Since when is it a 'lifelong event'?"

He froze—realizing he'd slipped up. He never actually planned to bring me back.

"Ahem, yes, it is temporary. I'll get you home as soon as possible. But since we're holding a wedding, we still shouldn't cut corners."

I didn't press further. Outside, thunder rumbled—rain was coming.

My chest tightened. Tonight would be another sleepless night.

Three years ago, Lucian claimed his room was leaking and forced me to swap with him. To this day, my father never bothered to fix the roof.

After all, it was only my room that leaked. No one cared.

Noticing the gloom in my eyes, my father slapped his forehead dramatically.

"Ah, damn my memory! I keep saying I'll get someone to fix the roof, but it slips my mind every time. Getting old, I guess."

"Your brother probably won't be back tonight. Sleep in his room. I promise I'll get it fixed tomorrow."

"No need. It's been leaking for three years. What's the point of fixing it now, with just three days left?"

From Lucian's room, I could see my mother's portrait on the wall.

There was a time when this house had warmth—when I wasn't treated like an outsider.

But after her death, everything changed.

Perhaps because I'd visited Rosalind earlier, she and Lucian couldn't even be bothered to pretend anymore.

At midnight, the two returned in the rain—arms linked, their intimacy suffocating.

I had just drifted off when Lucian's voice jolted me awake.

"Dad! That bastard went into my room! Does he have no shame?"

My father rushed over. "It's pouring outside, and your brother's roof leaks. I thought you weren't coming back tonight—"

Then he noticed Rosalind clinging to Lucian's arm.

Her soaked white blouse clung to her skin, her red lingerie faintly visible.

Before the contract was signed, Rosalind had been publicly dating me. My father had even promised us a grand wedding.

Though he knew everything, the two flaunting their relationship like this—before I'd even left—was too blatant to ignore.

"Son, what's the meaning of this...?"

Lucian didn't care. He'd long treated this house as his personal kingdom.

"Just get him out! Disgusting—what if he dirtied my sheets?"

"This..."

"Make him leave now!"

I waved a hand, signaling I didn't want to put my father in a difficult position, and returned to my own room.

In the hallway, my father's voice carried—despite his hushed tone, the walls were too thin to conceal anything.

"You brat, how could you bring her here?"

"We went to see a movie, and it started raining! What was I supposed to do?"

"Besides, Rosalind's my fiancée. What's the big deal?"

"You still need to get married first! This is improper!"

"Dad, your old-fashioned rules are outdated. Rosalind, go take a shower."

"We're going to bed. Why don't you... make yourself scarce?"

"What? You're sharing a room tonight?"

"Obviously."