The moment word got around that I'd bought a new house, Melissa—my younger sister who'd cut me off three years ago over her tall, handsome boyfriend—suddenly crawled back into my life.

She told me they were down to their last hundred bucks, and the landlord had tossed them out. She begged me to let her crash at my place, just for a bit. Since Melissa was the only family I had left, I caved and handed over the keys.

But when my lease on the company apartment ran out and I was ready to move into my new home, I found out Melissa had let Julian's entire family move in too. I demanded the house back, but Melissa and Julian's mother threw epic tantrums, refusing to budge. When I threatened to call the cops, they cooked up a plan to drag me up to the rooftop.

Melissa's grin was ice-cold. "Once you're gone, I inherit everything as your primary heir. This place will be mine." And with that, she shoved me.

When I opened my eyes again, staring at Melissa's tear-streaked face, I had only two words for her: "No deal."

At my firm refusal, Melissa's mask slipped right off. Her head snapped up. "Jane, I'm the only family you've got left! You're seriously going to let that house sit empty while you stay in your tiny apartment? Letting me stay awhile won't kill you, right?"

I stayed silent. It actually did kill me. Once, anyway.

Melissa seemed to realize she'd pushed too hard, so she softened her tone. "Sis, Julian's already out looking for work. The second he gets paid, we're gone. I know you never liked Julian, but we really do love each other. He treats me well! Remember—before Mom and Dad passed, they asked you to take care of me. You wouldn't let me end up on the streets, would you?"

I smiled weakly. Because Mom and Dad asked me to take care of her, I'd forgiven her over and over again.

When I first started working, Melissa was still in school. My $3,000 monthly salary mostly went to her, while she skipped classes and ran with the wrong crowd. Her grades were always rock bottom.

Even after she graduated, she never looked for a job. She'd hit me up for cash constantly, and if I refused, she'd threaten to ruin her own life. When I found out about her and Julian, I tried to reason with her, telling her she was too young and Julian was bad news.

But she blew up at me, accused me of butting into her life, and handed me a letter cutting all ties. Despite everything, I still let her use my house when she was practically homeless. She swore that once Julian found a job, they'd move out, and she'd treat me like her closest family again.

But that very kindness cost me my life. Remembering how I ended up a broken mess in my past life, the coldness in my eyes deepened.

"Melissa, did you forget? You said I was cruel for trying to keep you from Julian. You wanted to sever ties," I said, getting up to find the letter she'd given me back then. Her words had devastated me—I'd treated her like my beloved little sister, only for her to choose a man over family. I left the letter unsigned, hoping she'd someday see her mistake.

Now, pulling out that letter, I signed my name with a flourish and held it up for her to see. "As you wished, I have no sister now. You chose Julian, and no matter how tough things get, you'll have to deal with it."

Seeing the indifference in my eyes, Melissa's composure shattered. She jumped up, snatched the letter from my hand, and tore it to shreds. "I'm your sister—blood is thicker than water! That house should be half mine!"

"Fine, don't give it to me. But I'll find a way to make you hand it over willingly." Her eyes burned with spite before she spun around and stormed out. Watching her retreating back, I let out a bitter laugh.

Sister? Before she died, my mom shared a secret she'd kept her whole life. They were infertile—both Melissa and I were adopted. My duty to Melissa was fulfilled in my previous life.

Two days later, Melissa showed up at my employee apartment, dragging three others along with her. I recognized them instantly—it was the same family responsible for my death in my past life: Julian Tran and his parents.

Melissa gently touched her flat stomach, her face glowing with happiness. "Jane, I'm pregnant. Surely you'll let us turn your place into the nursery, right?"

Avayah wedged her curvy frame against the doorframe, craning her neck to peek inside like she was appraising something precious. Julian stood nearby, radiating smug protectiveness.

"Melissa," he said with self-satisfaction, "doesn't your sister have somewhere else to stay? What's the harm in lending it out?"

"Everyone says an older sister is like a second mother. Melissa doesn't have a mom, so giving her the house as a wedding gift is only natural," Avayah added, bold as brass.

I had been with the company for seven years and had just been assigned a single-room apartment. It wasn't fancy, but the location—just a five-minute walk from work—made it ideal. Still, that didn't mean I planned on living in employee housing forever. I wanted my own space. Especially since, in my past life, not long after I lent the place to Melissa, the company notified us that the lease was ending and we'd have to find somewhere else.

They never once mentioned how much they planned to contribute to the wedding, yet they expected me to just hand over my home. Avayah went on, brimming with arrogance, "Melissa said your place is only a thousand square feet? It's small, but we'll make do."

"You're still young. Work hard, save up, and buy another one. Anyway, when you marry, some outsider will end up with the house anyway. Better to give it to your sister as a wedding gift."

I couldn't help but laugh at their sheer nerve.

"What does her pregnancy have to do with me?" I shot back. "Didn't Melissa tell you she already cut ties with me? Why should I provide a wedding gift for a stranger?"

"You—!" Avayah hadn't seen that coming. She jabbed a finger at me, but I slammed the door shut, nearly catching her hand.

For four solid hours, they hollered outside my door. Once they finally gave up and left, I headed straight to a real estate agency. I hadn't planned on selling the place; it was my first major purchase with my own money and held a ton of sentimental value. But it's not just the thief you fear—it's the thief who's got his eye on what's yours.

Today made it crystal clear: Melissa wouldn't stop until she got that house. Better to sell it and put an end to her obsession.

On Monday, I put in a transfer request at HQ. My manager had suggested moving me to the central office in L.A. two years ago, but I was too wrapped up in Melissa's drama to consider it. Now, I wanted as much distance from her as possible.

To my surprise, my manager didn't agree as easily as I'd expected. "Jane, company transfers also take into account an employee's character."

His comment threw me off, and just as I was about to ask what he meant, the receptionist burst into the manager's office.

"Boss... oh, Jane, you're here too. Your sister was downstairs this morning, crying about how you're pushing her to the edge. Security had to escort her out."

"But now she's back again... you'd better go deal with it!"

From the receptionist's account, I learned Melissa had caused a scene earlier while I was out on a work errand, completely unaware of the chaos. No wonder my colleagues had been acting weird all day—Melissa had stirred things up.

I took a deep breath. "Got it. I'll handle it."

When I got downstairs, I found Melissa clutching her belly, tears streaming down her face as she sat on the cold ground. "Tell me if I'm wrong! I'm pregnant, but my sister—Jane Roberts—is hogging a company apartment and won't even let me use her empty house to rest!"

Melissa kept up the performance, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "If even my own sister won't help me, how can I expect compassion from Julian's mother? At this rate, I might have to start selling off my belongings just to afford somewhere to live..."

Many colleagues—who'd known me for years—perked up at Melissa's sob story, whispers spreading through the crowd.

"Isn't Jane an orphan? And her only family won't lift a finger for her? That's stone cold."

"She's pregnant, she's got nowhere to go, but instead of going to Julian's family for support, she comes to her sister?"

"And to think Jane's been Employee of the Year every year. Someone like that doesn't deserve it."

Before I could defend myself, a mocking voice cut in from behind.

"Jane loves to play the generous one at work, but now we're finally seeing her true colors!"

It was Vada Patel, the colleague who always butted heads with me. She never passed up a chance to stick the knife in, and smelling a scene, she hurried over.

"Jane, you have an empty house, and you won't even let your pregnant sister crash there?" Vada taunted.

Delighted to have backup, Melissa's eyes sparkled with satisfaction—though she kept her lip trembling, doing a damn good job of looking wounded.

"Sis, I know you're pushing thirty and still single, so maybe you're jealous of the love Julian and I have," Melissa added, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "But think about my baby. Can't you just help us—just this once?"

Vada immediately jumped in. "Don't worry, Melissa. Everyone here sees exactly what's going on. We've all got your back!"

I crossed my arms, giving Vada a cold look. "If you're that eager to help, why don't you pay her rent?"

Vada flushed, about to lash out, but Melissa stopped her with an overly sweet, practiced smile.

She sighed dramatically. "Thank you for your kindness, ma'am, but my sister has always blamed me for our parents' deaths, which is why she hates me. In that case, I won't stay where I'm not wanted. I'll just take my chances with my baby and leave it up to fate."

With that, Melissa pushed herself up stiffly, one hand pressed to her lower back, and slowly made her way out of the office building. Watching her leave, I frowned. Something told me this was far from over.

Before I could figure out her next move, my phone buzzed with a call from work: I was suspended. Someone had filmed Melissa begging outside the office, and the video had gone viral. Naturally, the internet had rallied behind the "poor victim" and flooded the company's complaint box with messages accusing me of being heartless. Now my transfer request wasn't just at risk—my entire job was hanging by a thread.

As I pondered what to do, my phone rang again. Melissa.

Her voice brimmed with triumph. "Sis, if this keeps up, it won't do either of us any good. Why don't we meet up and talk?"

She gave me an address for a café and hung up before I could answer. I didn't want to see the Tran family again, but I couldn't deny I was curious what new scheme they'd cooked up.

I arrived at the café right on time. The second she saw me, Melissa bounced over with a bright smile and slipped her arm through mine. "Jane! I was scared you'd be too upset to come!"

I pulled away and gave her a curt nod. Avayah Tran approached as enthusiastically as if nothing had ever happened.

"Oh, Jane, you're here!" she gushed.

Before I could sidestep, Avayah tripped. Her temple slammed into the table's edge, blood trickled down her face, and she crumpled to the floor like a stone, unconscious.

Julian's shout sliced through the air. "Jane, how could you push my mom?"