I had only been home for three days, yet every morning my mother had me up at dawn to do farm work.

The only reason I didn’t cook was because the one time I did, they said my food was terrible and told me never to touch the stove again.

And as soon as I came home, I handed each of them an envelope with a thousand dollars in cash. How could they say I was freeloading?

But the memory of my previous life still haunted me.

I could still feel the tree bark digging into my back, my sister’s smug face as she and my nephew lit firecrackers and hurled them at me.

The flames caught my down jacket in an instant. I was so terrified I couldn’t even scream at first. My parents and sister just stood there watching with cold expressions, while my nephew jumped up and down, clapping and laughing.

“Great! Burn Auntie to death! Burn Auntie to death!”

The fire spread over my entire body, the pain so intense I thought my skull would split open.

“Mom! Dad! Please—save me! I’m burning alive!”

My mother’s face twisted with disgust. “You debt collector! If it weren’t for you, your sister would already be married into a rich family, and we’d all be living in peace!”

“Burn her!” my father snarled. “I’m cursed to have a daughter like you!”

By the time a neighbor rushed over with water and doused the flames, my body was already charred, my face unrecognizable. I lay there half-conscious, wishing for death.

But even then, my father grabbed my arm, twisted it hard, and shouted, “You little bitch, stop playing dead and give me the money you owe for living here!”

In this life, I couldn’t hold it in. I burst into tears.

“Mom, Dad, I have to tell you the truth—I’m sick. My medical bills cost a fortune. I’ve borrowed tens of thousands from friends just to stay alive. If you have any money, could you lend me some?”

My father’s expression changed instantly. “We don’t have a penny to spare!”

My mother’s tone softened slightly. “What kind of illness needs so much money?”

“Uremia,” I said between sobs.

My mother’s face went white. She quickly pulled my father aside, whispering urgently.

“Old man, uremia needs regular dialysis. The cost is astronomical!”

“I know. And if it gets worse, she’ll need a kidney transplant. That’s even more expensive!”

“Even if Maris really does marry rich, we can’t waste money on this loser. Let’s cut her off completely. Whether she lives or dies won’t be our problem!”

When they returned, I put on my best pitiful expression. “Mom, Dad, you won’t abandon me, will you?”

My father snorted. “You got sick because you’ve been fooling around all year! I won’t have the Wynn family disgraced. From this day forward, you are no longer my daughter!”

My breath caught. “Dad, are you saying you’re cutting ties with me?”

“That’s right. From now on, you have nothing to do with this family!”

I clutched my chest, pretending to be heartbroken, though inside I was thrilled.

“Mom, Dad, how could you just abandon me like this? I’m your own flesh and blood!”

“We don’t have an unfilial daughter like you!” my mother snapped.

I bit back a smile. “Then we’d better put it in writing.”

I drafted two copies of a severance agreement. My parents, my sister, and I all signed and pressed our fingerprints onto them.

Outside, the commotion was getting louder. My mother shifted uneasily.

“Maris, there isn’t a problem, is there?”

My sister waved her off. “Don’t worry, Mom. Everything’s fine.”

But when we stepped outside, we saw a wall of fire. The fields were burning out of control, flames stretching as far as the eye could see.

The field that was now ablaze belonged to the village chief. His crops were seconds from being completely swallowed by the fire, and the fire trucks still hadn’t arrived.

The villagers rushed to help, but the flames were spreading too fast—every bucket of water they carried felt like a drop in the ocean.

In front of the wrecked Rolls-Royce, its owner stood stiffly, face dark with barely contained rage.

My sister had already transformed herself—perfect makeup, a carefully chosen dress that made her look soft and pitiful. She minced toward him, voice trembling just enough to sound sincere.

“Sir, I’m so sorry. My son was playing with firecrackers and accidentally threw them into the manhole, which caused… this.”

She even squeezed out a few tears. “His father passed away early, and I’ve raised him alone. This was my negligence. I’ll compensate you for the car, no matter what it costs. Even if I have to sell everything I own, I’ll make it right!”

She handed him a slip of paper with her phone number. “Here’s my number. Call me once you’ve calculated the damage.”

The man glanced at the note, then said flatly, “Let’s exchange numbers. It’ll be easier to stay in touch.”

My sister lit up instantly, whipped out her phone, and added him on the spot.

When she got home, she strutted in like a peacock. “See? He added me on WhatsApp. That proves he’s interested!”

Her smug grin made me want to laugh. “You do realize he just added you for payment details, right? And now we’re not just talking about a car—you blew up the road and hundreds of acres of crops. How are you going to pay for all that?”

My mother spun around and slapped me hard. “Shut up! You just can’t stand seeing your sister doing well!”

My sister smirked, rubbing her cheek like she was enjoying the drama. “Exactly. Talia, you’re jealous. I’m about to marry into a wealthy family—of course I can afford a few measly crops and a patch of road.”

Then her phone pinged. She shrieked, “Adrian sent me a message!”

My mother nearly jumped out of her seat. “What did he say?”

“It’s a picture—of the damage estimate.” She beamed. “This must be his way of starting a conversation with me. He probably doesn’t even want me to pay, he just wants an excuse to talk.”

She quickly sent him a syrupy voice message: “How about we meet at a restaurant to discuss compensation? Or you could come to my place—26 Willow Lane.”

The reply came seconds later:

No need. Just transfer the money directly to this card.

My sister’s smile faltered. “Forget it. I won’t reply right away. I have to be reserved. Make him chase me.”

I knew exactly why she was sulking. In my previous life, after the neighbor’s child blew up that Rolls-Royce, Adrian Beckett had personally visited the mother and son every day with gifts in hand. My sister must have thought history would repeat itself.

She muttered under her breath, half-dreamy, half-bitter. “He must be intimidated by my beauty. That’s why he’s acting so distant. He probably thinks he’s not good enough for me. Poor man.”

Then she sighed dramatically. “Oh, it’s so hard being this beautiful—men just can’t handle it.”

I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes. “So… you’re not going to pay him back?”

“What’s there to pay for? We’re practically family already.”

Before I could answer, her phone rang.

She shot me a smug look. “See? He couldn’t stand it when I didn’t reply.”

She put the phone on speaker, chin high.

“Ms. Wynn,” a deep voice said, completely emotionless, “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but if you don’t transfer the compensation within three days, I’ll call the police.”

My sister blinked, stunned. “Didn’t I tell you to come to my house?”

“I don’t have time for nonsense,” he said curtly. “If I don’t receive the payment, we’ll settle this legally.”

And with that, he hung up.

My sister’s triumphant expression froze on her face.

Adrian hung up, and my sister just tossed her hair, unfazed.

“He’s just playing hard to get. You’ll see—he’ll be back.”

Right on cue, there was a knock on the door.

My sister’s face lit up. “See? I told you!”

She practically skipped to the door, flung it open—

—only to find the village chief and a crowd of angry villagers glaring at her.

They shoved their way inside. The village chief’s face was dark with fury.

“Maris! Your son blew up the sewer, set the fields on fire, and destroyed the road. While the rest of us were out there trying to save the crops, you hid in here without lifting a finger. Do you have any conscience at all?”

The villagers shouted over one another:

“You’d better pay for the losses!”

“My field was ruined!”

“Mine too!”

“You owe us all compensation!”

My sister planted her hands on her hips, chin raised high.

“It’s just a few measly plots of land! Fine—I’ll pay! My husband is a billionaire, you think we care about pocket change?”

My mother chimed in proudly, “Exactly! My daughter is about to marry rich. Soon, you’ll all be lining up to curry favor with us!”

The villagers exchanged looks, some scoffing, some sneering.

The village chief crossed his arms. “A billionaire husband, huh? Let’s see him. Call him out here.”

And as if summoned by fate, Adrian appeared at the door.

My sister’s face lit up like fireworks. “He’s here! My husband’s here!”

But Adrian stepped aside, revealing two uniformed police officers behind him.

The room went dead silent.

“Who is Maris?” one of the officers asked. “You’ll need to come with us.”