After leaving the scene, I didn’t go home, nor did I return to work. Instead, I checked into the nearest hotel.

By then, the incident had completely blown up online.

Lesley was being hailed as a psychic with divine gifts—a beautiful, kind-hearted angel.

Praises flooded on every platform. Even several international brands had reached out, offering her ambassador deals.

As for me—I was being torn to shreds.

My father had already posted a public statement across every social media platform, formally disowning me.

Just like last time.

And then—the moment that truly crushed me came.

A group of internet users had found my mother’s gravesite.

They were now openly discussing their plans to dig up her ashes.

I couldn’t wait any longer.

I logged into my social media account and uploaded an audio recording I’d been holding onto.

Thankfully, in this life, I had prepared some evidence.

The recording was of my private conversation with the elderly woman by the river.

The condition I’d asked of her was for her to take back the thirty thousand dollars in fees.

I offered to help locate the body for free, making it clear that I couldn’t guarantee success.

With that, the accusation that I had extorted money in exchange for retrieving a corpse—collapsed entirely.

I thought, with the truth out, the public would finally calm down.

But I underestimated them.

Instead of justice, a new wave of mockery and hatred erupted.

“This recording is fake for sure. You expect us to believe a money-grubbing fraud like her would work for free?”

“Who knows when that audio was recorded? For all we know, Leizl staged the whole thing—found some random old lady to play aalong with.”

Even some of the corpse retrieval team members started livestreaming, fueling the flames.

One said bluntly, “Leizl always took payment. Suddenly doing it for free? I don’t buy it. Sounds shady as hell.”

The situation spiraled completely out of control.

That night, risking everything, I snuck to the cemetery and retrieved my mother’s ashes with my own hands.

By dawn, I sent an email to my workplace requesting a long leave of absence.

Then I headed south—back to my mother’s hometown—carrying her urn close to my chest.

My mother was from the south, raised in a scholarly family.

For love, she had left everything behind and followed my father to the north.

After her passing, my grandmother wanted to bring her home to be buried. But my mother left a will: she wanted to be buried in the city where my father lived.

Even in death, she wished to stay close to him.

But less than a month after her funeral, my father married Ophelia, who was already pregnant.

Soon after, Lesley was born.

If I count the days—Ophelia must have already been carrying that child while my mother was lying in a hospital bed, fighting for her life.

The night my mother died, she had refused to close her eyes, waiting for one last glimpse of my father.

But he never came.

He must’ve been with Ophelia that night.

Now that I’m grown up—and cast out by the very man she loved—I’ve decided to bring her home.

If my mother’s spirit was watching me now, I know she would understand. She would support me.

On the road back, I posted a statement online.

[From this day forward, I am officially withdrawing from the corpse retrieval team. I will no longer participate in any body recovery operations.]

Let Lesley keep copying me. Now that I’ve stepped away, let’s see what she’s really capable of.

If she truly has psychic powers, she’ll be fine. If not—she’ll be exposed, sooner or later.

Unsurprisingly, my announcement became trending news—and once again, I was targeted by relentless hate.

[Quit the team? What a joke. She was already fired!]

[How thick can someone’s skin get?]

[Anyone want to crowdfund a good slap across Leizl’s face?]

I only glanced at the comments before shutting it all off.

Because I finally arrived.

I had stepped onto my mother’s homeland—and standing there, waiting to greet me—was my grandmother.

The moment my grandmother saw me, she pulled me into a tight hug, her eyes red from crying.

Clutching my mother’s ashes, I followed her to the family cemetery, where we laid my mother to rest in her hometown soil.

On the way back, my grandmother noticed the sadness clouding my face. Worried, she gently asked if something had happened.

After a moment of hesitation, I told her everything.

I didn’t hide a single detail.

When I finished, my grandmother let out a cold laugh.

“Communicating with the dead? And people actually believe that nonsense?”

She patted my hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’ll get to the bottom of this for you.”

My grandmother had been a teacher all her life, and her former students now held high positions across various industries. She was deeply respected.

After she shared my story, many of her students were furious on my behalf. They promised to use every resource at their disposal to uncover the truth.

Over the next few months, I stayed at my grandmother’s old countryside home.

I rose with the sun and rested at dusk.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I could breathe freely.

I had peace.

Many of my grandmother’s former students came to visit often. They treated me like a cherished niece, doting on me like a princess.

One of them, in particular—a handsome, successful young man named Hector—stood out. He was only a few years older than me, yet one day he blushed and slipped a handwritten love letter into my hand.

Stunned, I stared at the letter.

Such an old-school confession. I couldn’t help but laugh, amused and touched at the same time.

Just when I thought I had finally left the corpse retrieval team behind, I got an unexpected phone call.

It was Darius.

“Leizl,” he said curtly, “come back immediately. We need you to locate a victim’s body.”

I frowned. “Is that an order?”

He replied flatly, “If you show up within 24 hours, I might consider getting back together with you.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt.

“Are you insane?” I said, then hung up—and blocked his number.

But just minutes later, another call came in.

It was my father this time.

His voice was even harsher. “Leizl Edwards, you’d better come back right now.”

I responded coldly, “You’re mistaken, Mr. Edwards. I’ve taken my mother’s surname. I’m Leizl Sanchez now.”

Then I hung up on him, too—and blocked him just the same.

Still, those two calls stirred something in me.

Why now?

They hadn’t contacted me for over a month. Why the sudden urgency?

I couldn’t shake the curiosity, so I did a quick online search.

What I found shocked me.

Even after disappearing for so long, I was still being dragged through the mud online.

Logic said the internet should’ve moved on to its next scandal by now. So why were people still wasting time attacking me?

And then I saw the reason.

Lesley.

Her fame hadn’t faded. On the contrary, she had only grown more popular.

She was now the face of numerous international brands, attending elite forums and galas, fully embraced by high society.

Every move she made was broadcast online, followed by adoring fans and endless praise.

But with every compliment she received, the public would inevitably bring me up—just to hurl more insults my way.

As for my father’s company, it was thriving thanks to her popularity and was now on the verge of going public.

The corpse retrieval team, however, wasn’t so lucky.

They had encountered several cases involving complex hydrological conditions and had repeatedly reached out to Lesley for help.

But she always had an excuse—too busy, prior engagements—and declined every time.

With no expert to guide them, they were forced to resort to cruder methods.

They began using iron hooks to drag along the riverbed—like plowing a field—hoping to snag the bodies.

By the time the corpses were retrieved, they were often beyond recognition, torn and mutilated by the hooks.

Grieving families would collapse in tears at the sight. The team’s reputation took a severe hit.

Some team members, wracked with guilt over the condition of the remains, began to suffer from depression.

Several were already showing signs of mental strain.

Not long ago, another boy went missing in the river.

It had already been ten days.

His family publicly stated that they didn’t care how much it cost—they only wanted his body recovered intact.

They would absolutely not allow the use of iron hooks.

The corpse retrieval team had been searching around the clock, but the body remained lost.

As the situation grew more urgent, public pressure mounted.

Online, people began calling for Lesley to step in again.

Some even showed up at her events, asking when she’d use her “spiritual powers” to help find the boy.

Lesley could no longer refuse.

The internet was starting to question her so-called psychic abilities.

No wonder Darius and my father had suddenly become desperate for me to return.

They knew perfectly well—without me, Lesley had no way to locate the body.

And that realization chilled me to the bone.

So they knew the truth all along.

These two men—once the most important in my life—had both betrayed me.

Just then, a push notification lit up my phone.

Lesley had gone live.

I opened the stream.

On-screen, she was crying, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m not refusing to help. It’s not that I don’t want to find the boy’s body...” she choked out. “It’s just... because of my sister, Leizl.”

Her words sent a rush of blood to my head—I nearly cursed out loud.

The comment section exploded.

[That vile woman threatened you again, didn’t she?]

[Leizl should rot in hell.]

[Someone run her over already and rid the world of this plague.]

Then, Lesley wiped her tears and added tearfully, “You’ve all misunderstood my sister. She hasn’t threatened me this time.”

“She’s actually been begging me to help her return to the corpse retrieval team. She’s asked me so many times...”

“I’m here today to ask the public—please, give my sister a second chance. Let her come back.”

“If she’s willing to return to the field, then I promise—I’ll go too.”

The comments came flooding in.

[Lesley is truly beautiful inside and out.]

[She’s already so successful, yet still wants to help her sister. What a saint.

[Leizl’s got such a dark history. I just hope she doesn’t drag Lesley down with her.]

Others chimed in more aggressively.

[At the very least, shouldn’t Leizl post an apology by now?]

[Yeah, Lesley is already pleading on her behalf, and she’s still playing dead? Shameless!]

[What now, is she waiting for us to beg her again? Can’t get enough of playing the victim, huh?]

Then, on the livestream, Lesley picked up her phone.

“I’ll call my sister now and tell her the good news,” she smiled sweetly.

A second later, my phone rang.

I didn’t answer.

And just as I expected, the backlash was immediate.

I watched the flood of insults and slurs scroll by.

I could only laugh bitterly.

You were the ones who banished me. And now you’re the ones forcing me back.

Lesley, what a masterclass in manipulation.

Right then, another message came in—it was from Hector.

[Leizl, I’ve uncovered the truth about that incident. See the attachment.]

I quickly opened it and skimmed the contents—and everything became clear.

Before I could react further, my phone rang again.

It was Lesley.

This time, I answered.

Her voice lit up with excitement. “Sis, everyone online is hoping you’ll return to the team. Would you be willing?”

I smiled. “Of course.”

Lesley, I know your secret now.

Two lifetimes of betrayal, I won’t let you walk away unscathed.