My younger sister had sworn off marriage and children, but as we grew older, she envied me for having both a husband and son. Not only did she demand that I share my husband with her, but she even wanted my son to care for her in her old age.

I scolded her for being delusional and shameless. But she held a grudge, and in front of my son, she claimed that I had cut off his chance at inheriting a fortune. He believed her. With one strike, he killed me and then declared to the world that my sister was his real mother.

When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day my sister refused to go on a blind date. This time, she happily agreed to it and even boasted to me that she planned to have many kids.

"Liz Stanton, this time, I'll be the one with a husband and kids."

But I had no intention of reliving the misery of marriage either.

The Life She Took From Me

"Wonderful! You finally agreed to the blind date, Colette! I'll go call Henry's mother right away!" My mom ran off excitedly to make the call, while my sister, Colette, sat across from me, watching with a smug look on her face.

"I'll be the one with a husband and kids this time, Liz."

At that moment, I knew my sister had returned to life too.

In our previous life, she had followed the trend of only dating but never marrying or having children. Because she refused the blind date, I had been pushed into it by my mother and hastily married Henry Collins.

I had been forced to resign from my job, left with only 2,000 dollars a month for living expenses. Every household cost came out of that meager allowance. My mother-in-law constantly berated me, accusing me of being wasteful and incapable of cooking a decent meal. The farthest I ever went was to a supermarket less than a mile from home; I couldn't even leave the house for half an hour without trouble.

The next time I saw my sister was at our mother's funeral. She looked well-kept, with no family or children weighing her down, appearing no different from a girl in her twenties. I, on the other hand, was worn out from years of drudgery—wrinkles and gray hair etched into my face.

When we stood side by side, some younger relatives who didn't know us even asked cheerfully when I'd had another daughter.

After the funeral, my sister used the excuse of being my only remaining family to move near my home. She came by every day to chat. My house was always noisy and chaotic—my children constantly quarreling over who I had to help with the babysitting—but in her eyes, it was living proof of a happy family.

She began deliberately making contact with Henry, and when I found out, she shamelessly declared that I should share him with her. She even wanted my son to take care of her in her old age.

I scolded her for being delusional and shameless. But she felt no shame—only pride. "Your husband was mine to begin with. Without me, you wouldn't even have your son. It's only right that he takes care of me."

Colette poisoned my son against me, telling him over and over that I'd refused her request only because I didn't want him to inherit her fortune. He believed her, and greedy for her money, he struck me down with a blade.

He announced to the world that my sister was his real mother and I was nothing but a human trafficker who had separated them.

I never forgot the pain of dying. This time around, if she wanted to taste the bitterness of marriage, she could have it. I wasn't going to suffer it again.

Stolen Work

When Colette came back, she proudly lifted her chin and deliberately showed off the huge diamond ring on her finger. "I'm getting married soon, Liz. You'll give me your blessing, won't you?"

"Sure," I replied coolly, adjusting my glasses. "I hope your wish comes true and you give birth to a record-breaking number of kids."

The moment I stepped out the door, I heard the sound of her sobbing behind me. "I finally found happiness, but why would Liz say that to me?"

My mom spat in disgust. "What good is working so hard if you end up alone?"

Then, she turned gentle, comforting my sister. "She's just jealous of you. Don't cry, pumpkin."

I rolled my eyes. In my mom's eyes, nothing mattered more than marrying well.

In my past life, just because Henry once said he liked housewives, my mother had thrown a tantrum and forced me to quit my job. She even handed all my IDs and bank cards over to Henry, determined to trap me at home.

When I put up a fight, she scolded me for being ungrateful. "Henry's family is so well-off. You should feel blessed that you get to be a housewife. If your sister hadn't given him up to you, do you think you'd have even had the chance?"

Because of those words, I spent decades serving my in-laws, doing all the housework, shuttling the kids between school and extracurriculars, tutoring them myself. Every responsibility fell on me. And still, I was scolded for being lazy, for doing nothing all day but asking for money.

Even my own children looked down on me, comparing me to other glamorous mothers and calling me nothing more than a leech. If we ran into their classmates while shopping, they'd introduce me as their housemaid. And forget about parent-teacher meetings; they never let me attend. Even at their weddings, I wasn't allowed to give a speech—but when babysitting was needed, I was the first person they turned to.

The memory made me shiver.

When I finally sat down at my desk, a colleague leaned over and whispered, "The manager asked for you. He looks grim—I don't think it's anything pleasant."

I thanked her and went straight to the manager's office.

The moment I walked in, his expression was thunderous. He forced his anger down and snapped, "Liz Stanton, you're fired! Not only that—you'll compensate the company for all the losses you've caused."

I stared at him, baffled. "Sir, you know how much profit my proposal brought in. You can't—"

Before I could finish, he slammed a stack of documents into me. "Your proposal? You've got the nerve to say that? You've been sued for plagiarism! Now our entire firm is a laughingstock. Either you resign and pay up, or the whole industry will know you're a fraud. You'll never work in this field again!"

'Plagiarism?' I frowned in confusion. That proposal was the result of countless sleepless nights and research. Hesitantly, I opened the file and saw the name of the planner from the other company: Colette Stanton.

In that instant, I understood everything.

Framed

In my previous life, I had been dragged into this plagiarism scandal too. But before I could investigate, Colette had rushed back, flustered. "Liz, if you did plagiarize, just admit it and be done with it. Don't let Henry's family find out—they won't be as forgiving as ours."

"Huh! Some people are not only incompetent but are also obstinate!" My mom believed Colette and locked me in the house until my reputation as a plagiarist spread and the whole industry blacklisted me.

Colette, by contrast, had ridden that one proposal into the notice of a famous foreign company CEO and left the country, living a secure life ever after. Looking back now, the truth was that Colette had stolen my campaign.

I clenched my fingers and bowed to the manager. "I will produce proof that I didn't plagiarize."

When I went home to confront Colette, she leaned in close and sneered quietly, "So what if I did? Do you have any proof? You don't deserve a career or a family."

Furious, I slapped her hard. She covered her face in shock, then burst into tears. Her crying drew my mom, who, seeing the red handprint on Colette's cheek, flew into a rage.

Colette sniffled and put on an act. "I really didn't steal your proposal, Liz… I've already forgiven you for plagiarizing my work. What more do you want?"

She sobbed harder. "I know you like Henry too, but you can't frame me like this—Mom, please help me!"

My mom slapped me across the face. "Liz Stanton! I'm telling you—your sister is about to be a rich man's wife. You'd better admit you stole Colette's plan, or I'll make you regret it. You've always been nothing but trouble; if you were half as sensible as Colette, I wouldn't be so vexed every time I look at you."

I turned my head, disappointment hollowing me out. All my life, whenever Colette messed up, my mom blamed me. Whatever Colette rejected, my mom handed to me like charity, and then scolded me for being petty enough to take it—men included. I had only ever gotten the leftovers.

I lifted my chin and stared into my mother's eyes, determined. "I won't. Why should I always give in to her? I didn't plagiarize—period."

My mom clutched her chest and wailed, "You wretched wench—if you won't admit it, get out!"

"I'll be generous and forgive Liz, Mom," Colette cooed to our mother, feigning sweetness. "Don't let her raise your blood pressure."

My mom, placated, grew even more contemptuous of me. "Don't go to work anymore. I'll find you a husband right now. The sooner you're married off, the sooner I'll have peace."

At that, she locked me in my room and refused to open the door, no matter how hard I pounded. She even confiscated all my devices so I couldn't contact anyone. For meals, she left me a single bag of cookies—ones Colette didn't like—as my only food supply.

Outside the door, Colette loudly boasted that her wedding to Henry was next week and that she alone would have the picture-perfect family. She didn't forget to jab at me either. "Mom already found you a match! I hear his family's well-off. Your future husband just turned sixty, Liz—you're lucky! You don't have to bear him any progeny, and you'll become a grandmother right off the bat!"

But her words didn't scare me—marriage wasn't something my mom could decide for me.

…

That night, after my mom and Colette had fallen asleep, I tied my sheets and clothes together and climbed out the window. I didn't pause once I hit the ground; I ran straight to the office and only relaxed when I sat back at my desk.

Before I'd gone to confront Colette, I had feared something would go wrong. So, I had uploaded every piece of research and the electronic version of my proposal to the cloud, then deleted the local records.

That was my only chance to prove my innocence.