Myra visibly relaxed when she saw me placing the bowl down.

"Alright then, you go ahead and reach out to their customer service, and I'll get the bed ready for us. Don't forget to drink the soup—taking care of your stomach is important."

Her footsteps faded away toward the bedroom.

I lifted the bowl and took a sip. My stomach abruptly clenched. It was a sharp, visceral pang that instantly brought back the relentless agony of stomach cancer from my previous life.

I picked up a spoon and slowly pushed aside the vegetable pieces floating on the surface. Beneath lay chunks of chicken, stewed under tender and soft. And beside them were thick slices of ginger, a handful of cardamom pods, and three plump, whole peppers.

My hand stilled.

Ginger was naturally spicy and could irritate an already sensitive stomach lining. Cardamom pods were intensely warming and could cause indigestion or heartburn for some people, especially with regular use. Peppers were also sharp and spicy.

While using a pinch of these in cooking was generally harmless, simmering large amounts for hours concentrated their irritating compounds into the soup. For someone with stomach issues, drinking this was the same as taking a slow-acting poison.

In my previous life, when I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer, the doctor had frowned and asked about my diet.

I told him Myra often made me stomach-nourishing soup.

The doctor only shook his head, saying some folk remedies might not suit the condition and could even make things worse.

At the time, I defended Myra, insisting her intentions were good.

Ha, so much for her good intentions.

It turned out even back then, this so-called soup made with love was slowly poisoning me all along.

I forced down the anger and hatred churning inside me, as it wasn't time to confront her yet.

Aside from the project bonus I'd just squandered in the game, all my salaries, bonuses, and savings from over the years were still in Myra's hands. If I forced a showdown now, I wouldn't get a single penny back.

I had to endure, to wait, and to come up with a plan.

I set the bowl down and walked to my computer. On the screen, a notice suddenly popped up.

"Announcement of Further Strengthening the Management of Minors' Game Spending."

The content was nothing more than the usual official boilerplate calling for compliance, implementing real-name verification, prohibiting underage users from making in-app purchases, and so on.

I skimmed lazily over the text, and I was just about to close it when my finger suddenly froze mid-air.

The words "minors", "irrational large-amount spending", "identity verification", and "refund appeals" caught my eye, making me raise a brow slightly. I had just found a way to get my money back.

Soon, the door opened.

"Honey, how did it go with the customer service? Are they going to refund the money?" she asked, unable to hide the urgency in her eyes at all.

I let out a heavy sigh and pulled up the page with the announcement regarding minors. Then, I turned the screen toward her and said, "I already contacted them. But they said I'm an adult and that the top-up was voluntary, so it doesn't meet the refund criteria."

"What?" Myra's face instantly paled. "How can they do this? This is a million dollars we're talking about! They can't just decide it's non-refundable!"

Her chest rose and fell sharply, and her eyes burned with anger.

"Actually," I began hesitantly, "it's not completely hopeless."

Myra immediately looked up at me. "What do you mean? Hurry up and tell me!"

I pointed to the keywords on the screen—"minors", "irrational spending", "guardians can appeal for refunds".

"You see, the rules are really strict about protecting minors these days. If the money was spent by a minor, the chances of getting a refund are very high as long as a guardian steps forward to appeal."

Myra paused for a moment, not immediately grasping what I meant.

I looked at her and continued slowly, "What if we say the one who actually made the top-up wasn't me? Isn't Dwight just starting high school and still underage?"

Myra's breath hitched.

"We can claim he used my account and payment password without us noticing and made a huge purchase. Since you're his older sister, that makes you his guardian. You can absolutely file an appeal with the game company to demand a refund."

Observing her slowly growing interest, I carefully fanned the flames a little more.

"Besides, I heard a colleague from the legal department mention once that in clear-cut cases like this, where a minor was induced into making huge in-game purchases, if you can stir things up a bit—like getting the media involved…"

"The game company will sometimes not only issue a full refund but also offer extra compensation just to settle the matter and protect their reputation."

"Compensation?" Myra's breathing quickened.

I nodded and said confidently, "That's right. Given that this matter involves a minor, the public pressure would be intense. By then, we might even get back more than a million dollars."

Myra's eyes suddenly lit up, greed swiftly overriding her hesitation and unease.

"You're right!" She quickly pulled out her phone. "I'll call Dwight right now! That kid has gone too far. How could he secretly top up so much money?"

Even as she spoke, she had already dialed the number. She turned and walked toward the balcony, deliberately closing the door behind her.

Through the glass, I eavesdropped on her phone call.

"Dwight, it's me. That idiot Glenn blew a million on game top-ups. But there's a way to get it back—maybe even more." She paused briefly. "Right, you just stick to the story and say it was you who secretly topped up.

"What's there to worry about? With me handling things, that idiot Glenn won't suspect a thing. Seriously, the money he earns is rightfully ours anyway. Once we get this refund, you'll have more than enough for the down payment on your apartment.

"I'll even chip in some extra. Trust me, Glenn's easy to manipulate. He's been drinking that soup of mine for so long, his head's practically foggy these days."

She even let out a couple of smug laughs as she spoke.

I sat in front of my computer, the glow of the screen washing over my face. A cold, slow smile crept across my lips.

Just as I thought, Myra couldn't even bother keeping up the act around me till the end.

Now that she had taken the bait, the plan was finally in motion.

The next afternoon, Dwight swaggered in. He was only 17 years old, but his face was already full of the arrogance that came with being spoiled.

"Glenn, I heard from Myra that you've got trouble with that lousy game account of yours," he said flippantly. "Hurry up and give me the account and password. I'll handle it for you. Let's get that money back so you don't have to mess around yourself."

Myra, standing nearby, didn't stop him. Instead, she smiled and handed him an ice-cold soda.

"Dwight's right. You don't understand these things, so it's best to rely on him. Hurry up and give him the account."

I pushed down the cold, bitter irony rising in my chest.

How could I have been so blind in my previous life to believe this family actually wanted to build a future with me? To them, all my hard-earned money probably belonged to Dwight from the start.

"Okay. Sorry to trouble you," I said, obediently taking out the account and password I had prepared in advance. "Just log in and follow what the customer service says."

After eagerly snatching the note, Dwight opened my computer and logged into the game.

When Dwight saw the magnificent login screen, the top-tier server outfits and mount effects, and the blinding exclusive title and halo unlocked by that million-dollar top-up, his eyes instantly widened, and his breathing grew heavy.

"Glenn, your account is amazing!" He swallowed hard, his finger sliding excitedly over the mouse.

"If you like it, play more," I said from behind me, my tone calm and encouraging. "We're appealing for a refund anyway, so it's a good chance for you to get a feel for it. Play a little more immersively. That way, it'll look more realistic to the customer service too."

Dwight just grunted vaguely in response without looking back.

Over the next few days, Dwight practically moved into my place.

At first, he just wandered around, trying out the top-tier skins and mounts he could never afford. But soon, he started spending recklessly.

"Myra, transfer me some money. This equipment enhancement double-success-rate event ends today. I've got to get it!" he shouted toward the kitchen, not even turning his head.

Myra came out, wiping her hands. "Dwight, aren't we supposed to be appealing for a refund? Why are you still putting money in?" she asked hesitantly.

"What do you know?" Dwight snapped impatiently. "This is an investment. If I make the account even more badass, it'll be more convincing when we appeal. How do you know the customer service won't log in to check? Hurry up! I'm 300 dollars short."

Myra glanced at me. I wore a helpless, restrained expression. "Let's listen to Dwight. Maybe he has a point."

Myra gritted her teeth and took out her phone to transfer the money.

After the first time came the second, and the third.

"Myra, look at this new divine beast mount. It's a server-wide limited release. With this, the account's value doubles!"

"Myra, I got camped in the arena. I need to buy materials for top-tier potions."

"Myra, there's a guild war. I need to hand out money to boost morale!"

The excuses varied wildly, and the amounts went from a few hundred dollars to several thousand dollars.

At first, Myra would ask a few questions, but later she mechanically transferred the money. The balance in her banking app was dropping steeply. In there was over 80% of my salary and bonuses from the past few years.

I watched coldly from the sidelines as she transferred large sums without blinking for Dwight's sake. Yet, she wouldn't even let me buy a decent piece of clothing for myself.

In less than a week, Dwight was slamming his mouse again, the sound loud and jarring.

"I failed again! It's all this stupid enhancement rate's fault. Myra, transfer me another five thousand dollars. I refuse to believe I won't succeed!"

Myra held her phone, finger hovering over the screen.

"Dwight, it's all gone. There's only a few hundred dollars in the card."

"What?" Dwight whipped his head around, eyes bloodshot. "It's all gone? All that money?"

"I transferred it all to you," Myra said in a trembling voice, on the verge of tears. "Look at the transaction history yourself."

Only then did Dwight panic. He frantically scrolled through the phone, and as he saw the dense list of expenses, his face grew paler and paler.

It finally dawned on him that not only had he failed to get the money back, but he had also burned through nearly all of Myra's savings.

"W-What do we do now? The refund appeal—" His voice grew weak.

"Right! The refund! Dwight, hurry and contact the customer service. Tell them you're a minor and demand a full refund, including all the money you put in later," Myra urged him anxiously, as if clinging to the one chance they couldn't afford to lose.

Dwight fumbled to log into the appeal page, but when he saw the complicated documents required, he instantly broke out in cold sweat.

He filled out the form haltingly, growing more panicked with each entry. The more he wrote, the more glaring the holes in their story seemed to become.

"Myra, my stomach suddenly hurts really bad!" He suddenly clutched his stomach, groaning and curling up in his chair.

Myra was frantic, spinning around before sharply turning to glare at me, her eyes filled with misplaced blame and resentment.

"This is all your fault, Glenn! If you hadn't recklessly spent that million dollars in the first place, Dwight wouldn't be like this now. Now all the money is gone, Dwight is sick, and we can barely even afford to take him to a doctor! You useless man! You jinx!"

She screamed hoarsely, as if every bit of this disaster was my doing alone.

I laughed at the absurdity of it all.

"The money's gone?" I asked softly, walking over to the landline phone. "Who says it is?"

Under Myra's stunned, uncertain gaze, I picked up the receiver and dialed three numbers with practiced ease.

"Hello, 911?" My voice was clear, calm, and even carrying a hint of relief. "I'd like to report a crime. Someone has stolen my identity and payment passwords to make malicious, large top-ups on my game account.

"The cumulative amount is substantial and constitutes a serious violation of my property rights. The suspect is currently in my home. Please send officers as soon as possible."