At my eighteenth birthday celebration, my cousin gave me a half-scratched lottery ticket as a coming-of-age gift.

When he realized I'd won twenty dollars, he suddenly demanded to buy the ticket from me for two hundred thousand.

Something about it felt wrong, and I refused.

Then he snapped. Like a man gone mad, he cursed me, wishing me dead, and in front of all the guests, shoved me off the balcony.

Dozens of people watched, including my own parents, silently condoning him—joining in, shouting that I deserved to die.

And then I opened my eyes… and I was back half an hour earlier.

My cousin sneered, tossing the lottery ticket toward me, speaking the same familiar words.

"Cathy, don't call me stingy—this lottery ticket's worth a million! I already scratched half of it for you, carefully eliminating all the wrong choices. Whatever's left is all yours to win."

I reached out instinctively for the half-scratched ticket… then froze and hurriedly dropped it.

The clock on the wall read eleven o'clock—exactly half an hour before my death.

No one knew I had been reborn.

Today was supposed to be my eighteenth birthday, a coming-of-age celebration. My parents had invited all the relatives. Among them was my cousin, who had always looked down on me—and now he was humiliating me with a half-scratched lottery ticket.

I was seething, barely able to contain my shame, but the relatives around me smiled indulgently and coaxed me, saying, "We're family. Go ahead, scratch it."

Trapped, I had no choice but to scratch the ticket. Twenty dollars.

My cousin, who had been waiting to see me embarrassed, suddenly went wild. He demanded—on the spot—two hundred thousand dollars for the ticket.

I had been cautious all my life, trained by school campaigns on fraud prevention, and I knew my cousin disliked me. A sudden offer of two hundred thousand dollars had to be a trap. I refused immediately.

Then he snapped. "Bitch! Slut! Bastard!" His venomous words cut through me like knives.

I was paralyzed with fear as he screamed that if I didn't hand over the ticket, I deserved to die. He shoved me backward with all his strength, pushing me out the window. I screamed for help.

But the relatives who had been smiling just moments ago were gone. Their faces twisted with malice. Even my parents joined in, shouting that I deserved to die.

I fell from the balcony, dying instantly.

Until my last breath, I never understood what I had done wrong.

Perhaps fate had mercy on me, letting me live again.

I refused my cousin without hesitation. "No thanks, Harry. Keep your million for yourself."

Harry Grant's smile vanished, replaced by rage. "Cathy, you're ungrateful. You think turning eighteen makes you independent enough to disrespect me?"

My mother snatched up the ticket from the floor, scolding me. "You fool! Money this big, and you don't take it?"

Our family wasn't wealthy like my cousin's, and his high-paying job only made my parents feel inferior. They always acted humble in front of him, and the other relatives quickly joined in.

"Cathy, your cousin's being generous. Just take it. Who knows—you could really win a million."

I wanted to refuse again, but when I met my cousin's dark, dangerous gaze, I hesitated. Was I brave enough to say no again—or would he throw me off the balcony this time?

Reluctantly, I took the ticket. "I'll scratch it at home. We've gathered for my birthday—I don't want my gift to hold up the rest of the celebration."

My cousin wasn't satisfied. "Cathy, if you don't want it, just say so! Stop making excuses and embarrassing me!"

His mother glared at me. "Drama queen—take it or leave it!"

His father lit a cigarette and smirked. "Big shot after getting into college, huh?"

That one comment sent my parents into a panic. They redirected their anger at me. "Cathy! Who taught you to be so ungrateful? Harry is being generous, and you're making excuses!"

I struggled, but my mother pressed my hand against the ticket. Her fingernail dug into it, tearing off the surface. Blood dripped from my finger.

She didn't flinch, staring at the scratched area with intensity. Then she shouted, "It's a winner! Twenty dollars!"

My heart sank. Everyone's eyes were on me.

My cousin slammed the table and lunged at me, staring at my hand in his pocket. "Holy shit—it actually won!"

And then, just like last time, he said the exact same words.

"Cathy, I'll give you two hundred thousand dollars. Sell the ticket to me."

I clutched the lottery ticket and forced a smile at Harry.

"Harry, Mom must be mistaken. How could I possibly get lucky enough to win?"

He wasn't a fool. Offering twenty thousand for a twenty-dollar ticket had to be a trap. I could take the money—but if he regretted it later, who knew what he might do? No, this ticket wasn't going to him.

"Not a winner?" Harry's voice was sharp, disbelief flashing in his eyes. He reached for the ticket. "Let me see it."

My heart pounded, but I kept my composure and handed it over.

He inspected it carefully, turning it this way and that. When he saw it hadn't won, his anger exploded. He swore, then stomped on the ticket repeatedly, grinding it into the floor.

Glancing at my mother, he hissed, teeth bared. "Aunt Maddie, your eyes are really failing—should've checked properly."

My mom froze. The other relatives bent down, picking up the ticket, their collective "what a shame" echoing through the room.

I exhaled quietly, relieved. Thank goodness I hadn't washed this outfit yet.

Inside my pocket was a ticket I'd bought half a month ago. It hadn't won, so I'd shoved it in there absentmindedly. And now, it was finally coming in handy.

But my relief was short-lived. My sister suddenly called out, loud and sharp. "Sis, didn't you buy another ticket downstairs earlier? Maybe you mixed them up?"

My mother's eyes lit up instantly. She lunged at me, gripping my arm hard. "Cathy! Did you hide the winning ticket? I knew I wasn't seeing things! Hand it over right now!"

Harry, clearly sensing he was being played, returned and slapped me hard across the face.

"Little trickster! You dare play games with me? Give me the real ticket, or I'll hit you again!"

"I told you, it didn't win! Why would I lie?" I stammered.

My sister pressed on. "But I didn't see you throw away that ticket!"

Then my father, who had stayed silent until now, stepped forward. I thought he would defend me.

Instead, he slapped me across the face. I stumbled, hitting the ground, as he screamed, "You useless girl! Give the ticket to Harry, now! If you waste any more time, I'll make sure you regret it!"

A cold despair spread through me.

My mother snorted, rolling up her sleeves and advancing toward me. "Fine. I'll search her pockets myself. And if I have to… I'll strip her clothes off to make her hand it over!"

I shouted, my voice cracking. "Mom, Dad, are you insane? All this… over a fake lottery ticket? This is my birthday party. Stop this madness!"

Harry kicked me in the side. "Cathy, if you disappoint me, forget your birthday. I can make sure you don't even go to the college you just got into."

I stared at him in disbelief, then turned to my parents. They gave me cold, contemptuous smiles.

"Cathy," they said in unison, "we don't have money. Your college tuition comes from your cousin. If you want to go, you do as he says."

I wanted to fight back, but several relatives pinned me to the table in seconds.

In full view of everyone, my mother tore at my clothes and began searching for the lottery ticket. Shame flooded my body. Tears threatened to spill.

After fifteen minutes of frantic searching, she hadn't found the second ticket.

Finally, she shoved me aside and slapped my sister across the face.

"You little brat! Keep your mouth shut before I sew it closed!"

My sister clutched her face, her eyes red, and glared at me with pure hatred.

Harry said nothing, staring at me silently, his gaze unreadable.

My coming-of-age celebration was a complete disaster.

A day that should have been full of joy became the source of unbearable humiliation—all because of a lottery ticket.

I couldn't stand being in that house for another moment.

By midnight, I quietly slipped out the door and went to find my childhood friend, Owen Rankin.

The moment he saw me, he pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice thick with concern. "I tried to come to your house, but I couldn't find you. I asked your sister and… I heard what happened today. Cathy, you've suffered so much."

Tears streamed down my face instantly. All the frustrations, all the indignities of the day poured out in a flood of sobs.

Owen held me, soothing me, even clenching his fists as if ready to confront Harry.

"Stop!" I interrupted him. "Don't act rashly. I still don't know why my cousin did that. One wrong move and we could fall right into his trap."

He was silent for a few seconds, then asked, "Cathy… the lottery ticket you gave him—was it real?"

His eyes softened as they searched mine, and for a fleeting moment, I wanted to tell the truth. After all, Owen hadn't been present the last time my cousin tried to kill me.

I opened my mouth to answer, but then, I caught the urgency and longing in his gaze. My throat constricted like a giant hand was pressing down. Every instinct in me screamed: Don't tell him!

He urged me again. I forced a calm voice. "They searched everything so thoroughly… even if I had the ability to hide it, there's no way I could have."

In truth, the real ticket was tucked under a plate. When I scratched it and won, I'd hidden it at the bottom of a serving tray while my mother screamed in excitement, leaving the fake ticket in my pocket.

Seeing Owen staring at me suspiciously, I feigned irritation. "Do you think I'm stupid? You want me to ignore two hundred thousand dollars just to hide a twenty-dollar ticket?"

He smiled, running a hand through my hair. "Of course not. My darling Cathy isn't a fool."

My heart raced. I couldn't resist asking, "Do you think… what's so special about that ticket? Why would my cousin and the others want it so badly?"

Owen's tone was calm. "It's just a lottery ticket. What could it possibly do? Maybe your cousin suddenly lost his mind and wanted an excuse to torment you. He's always looked down on you, hasn't he?"

It was true—my cousin resented my good grades and the fact that I got into a prestigious university. But that didn't justify trying to kill me over a lottery ticket.

My mind swirled with questions, piling up like mountains. I barely touched my food.

Owen escorted me home. "Stay here tonight. Tomorrow, we'll go back together. I'll talk to your parents."

But sleep eluded me. Late into the night, I was tossing and turning when I suddenly heard the sound of a lock turning.

Panic gripped me. I clutched the blanket, thinking it was a thief.

Then reality hit—I was on the twenty-sixth floor. A thief couldn't possibly be here. There was only one possibility.

Owen.

As expected, he crept into the room, moving quietly to the bed, whispering my name.

When I didn't respond, he began rifling through my clothes. I heard him mutter, "Where's the lottery ticket? Can it really be gone? Damn it… I drugged you for this ticket. It has to be here!"

Even in the warmth of the heated room, a chill ran through me.

He searched every pocket and drawer—finding nothing.

Then, suddenly, he stood in front of me, covering my mouth and nose with his hand.

"Damn it… it's really gone! You wretched woman—such bad luck!"

In a fit of frustration, he repeatedly covered my face and released me, over and over, ten or fifteen times before finally stopping.

After he left, I collapsed, utterly broken.