"The King of Hell said if I can't repay that hundred million, he's going to throw me into a cauldron of oil and fry me into a crispy, golden cheese-coated ghost ball!"

Amelia blinked. "...That actually sounds kind of delicious."

I threw myself on the floor and started wailing.

"Waaah, sis! You're the real daughter of the Wright family now, Mrs. Fletcher—wife of the capital's golden boy! Don't tell me you can't even afford a measly hundred million? What happened to 'don't forget me when you're rich and powerful,' huh?"

At the mention of her family, Amelia's expression faltered. She was silent for a long while before whispering, "But Sherry... I don't have any money."

"What about your shares in the Wright Corporation?"

"They're all in Fake Miss Wright's hands now—Janine took them."

I gave her a look of utter disappointment. "Then go and take back what's yours!"

"But..."

"No 'buts,' my dear bestie! We've got ten days before I get tossed into the fryer! Are you really okay watching me turn into a ghost tempura?"

Amelia looked torn, but she finally nodded. "Don't worry, Sherry. I'll get the money."

Before I could even respond, she went straight downstairs, hailed a taxi, and headed toward the Wright family villa. I floated along behind her, like a very determined helium balloon.

The moment we reached the gate, laughter and music spilled from inside. There was a full-blown party.

Amelia pressed her lips together and pushed open the door.

Instantly, silence ensued. The whole villa went dead quiet.

Especially Janine—she jumped up from her seat beside Madam Wright, her eyes instantly turned red.

"Sister, I thought you weren't coming home today! I only sat in your seat for a bit—I'll move right now!"

She hurried to the far end of the table, limping dramatically, looking pitiful as if she had been bullied.

I was furious. "Where did this pretentious little bitch come from? Her acting is poor, only fools will believe it!"

But of course, the Wrights loved this act.

Kenneth, Amelia's brother, slammed his cutlery down and dragged Janine back to her seat.

"Amelia! How many times do I have to say it? I only recognize Janine as my sister!"

Madam Wright sighed in perfect fake sympathy. "Amelia, it wasn't Janine's fault you two were switched at birth. You've bullied her for six years—isn't that enough?"

Amelia clenched her fists, face pale. "I didn't bully her. She—"

But Mr. Wright didn't even let her finish. He slammed his glass on the table. "This is a family dinner! If you can't behave, get out!"

I floated over beside him, glaring, and I spat in his glass in anger.

"Fine! Let's go, babe. We don't need this bunch of psychos anyway!"

But Amelia just shook her head softly.

I knew she was enduring this humiliation for my sake—to get money for me. My heart suddenly turned to mush.

She sat quietly in the corner. When the maid brought her cutlery, she just ate silently, pretending she didn't hear the others' disdain.

No one spoke.

After a few bites, Kenneth slammed his bowl down. "I lost my appetite. I'm done."

Mr. Wright followed suit, and Madam Wright immediately called the maid to clear the table, not caring that Amelia had barely eaten two bites.

She didn't complain, and just kept her head down. She was calm as if she'd long gotten used to it.

When everyone was about to leave, Amelia finally spoke up, her voice hesitant but steady.

"Mom, Dad... could you return some of the shares Janine took before?"

At that instant, Kenneth exploded. "Amelia, do you have no shame?"

He grabbed a plate of food and flung it at her. Sauce splattered down her hair, dripping over her face.

Unbothered, she wiped it off and said calmly, "Brother, I really need the money. It's urgent."

"Urgent for what? Planning to use it to hurt Janine again?"

Only then did I realize that Janine's limp had something to do with Amelia.

Back when the Wright family's patriarch was still alive—a man known for being fair and sharp—he had transferred Janine's shares to Amelia after she was proven to be the real daughter.

Of course, Grandpa Arthur hadn't treated Janine unfairly. He'd even set up a trust fund just for her—though the amount was nowhere near what the real Wright family heirs received.

Not long after arranging everything, Grandpa Arthur passed away due to illness.

On the day of his funeral, Janine didn't show up. Her phone went straight to voicemail.

At first, everyone just complained about how ungrateful and disrespectful she was. But as night fell and she still couldn't be reached, panic spread through the entire family.

They all split up to search for her, including Amelia.

By midnight, there was still no sign of Janine.

Then, just as everyone was losing hope, Madam Wright's phone rang. It was Janine.

The call lasted only a second—just enough for her to scream, "Help me!"

Soon after, the line went dead.

Using the phone's location, the family rushed to find her.

They arrived at a run-down house on the outskirts of the city. Janine was standing on the rooftop, trembling, like someone was forcing her toward the edge.

Just as the Wrights called out to her—she fell.

When they looked up in shock, they saw Amelia standing on the same rooftop.

Meanwhile, Janine, barely conscious, murmured weakly as she was carried away, "Sister... I'll never steal our family from you again... Please... don't hurt me..."

From that day on, Amelia's shares were transferred back to Janine, and she became the most hated person in the Wright household.

Now, back at the dinner table, Kenneth's accusations echoed in her ears. Amelia stood frozen, unable to utter a word.

She just watched, blankly, as one by one, her family members turned away and left the dining room.

Then, quietly, she walked to the farthest corner of the villa and sat on her bed in silence. Her fingers trembled slightly, the only sign that she hadn't gone completely numb.

I floated to stand before her, speaking firmly. "There's no way you did that to Janine. You're not that kind of person."

She lifted her head, tears spilling freely down her face. "Sherry... they don't believe me. Not a single one of them..."

"That day, I was out looking for Janine too. Then I got a text—an address saying she was there. I rushed over, but the moment she saw me, she smiled... and jumped."

"I swear, I didn't do anything."

I stayed beside her, quietly keeping her company until her sobs faded into shaky breaths.

Then she whispered, "Thank you, Sherry."

I waved her off. "Please, you didn't even dare skip class to get bubble tea with me back then—you think I'd believe you had the guts to push someone off a roof? Only that bunch of brainless walnuts in your family would believe such nonsense!"

Amelia actually laughed through her tears. "Don't worry, Sherry. I've got another plan. I'll definitely get you that money."

I thought she'd come up with some brilliant schemes, but I was wrong.

The next morning, she marched straight to Denver's company—with divorce papers in hand.

On the way there, she smiled shyly.

"Sherry, if I divorce Denver and split the marital assets, I can get enough money to pay off your debt!"

I was about to tell her not to sacrifice her happiness for me when she suddenly squared her shoulders and stormed into the building. But the moment we stepped inside, the receptionist stopped her.

"Good morning, Ma'am. Do you have an appointment?"

I couldn't help sneering, "Wow. You need an appointment to see your own husband?"

Amelia blushed slightly and whispered to the receptionist, "I'm Mr. Fletcher's wife. Could you please tell him I need to see him?"

The receptionist's expression turned icy and disdainful. "Madam, if you're going to pretend, at least try harder. Mr. Fletcher is currently dining with his wife in the lounge. If you don't leave, I'll have to call security."

Amelia's face went completely pale.

She turned to me, panic flickering in her eyes—and then suddenly dashed toward the elevator.

The receptionist immediately shouted, "Security! Security!"

It didn't take long before security guards rushed over, pinning Amelia to the floor and trying to drag her out of the building.

Her hands clung desperately to the pillar, fingernails scraping against the surface and leaving long white scratches.

I hovered anxiously nearby, pacing in circles—but there was nothing I could do.

No one could see me, no one could hear me. No one except Amelia.

Just then, the elevator chimed.

Janine walked out with a man beside her, chatting and laughing intimately.

Amelia froze for a second, then suddenly shouted, "Denver!"

The moment Denver saw her, disgust flickered across his face.

"What are you doing here?"

Amelia broke free from the guard, yanked a folder from her bag, and held it out to him.

"You've always wanted a divorce, haven't you? Fine. I agree."

The receptionist and the guards exchanged glances—then looked at Denver, then at Amelia, and finally at Janine. The look on their faces was... priceless.

Denver's lips tightened into a thin, hard line. Suppressing his anger, he said coldly, "Go upstairs. We'll talk there."

As soon as the office door closed, he flung the divorce agreement at Amelia's face.

"Amelia, must you humiliate Janine like this?"

Janine quickly stepped forward, clutching Denver's arm with teary eyes.

"Denver, please don't blame my sister. She's your real wife. It's all my fault. I'll leave right now."

She picked up her bag and turned dramatically toward the door, wiping at her eyes as though she were the victim of some great tragedy.

Denver pulled her back into his arms, his voice soft and indulgent.

"Janine, you're pregnant now. Don't cry. Be good and stay here—I'll protect you."

Amelia just stood there, staring blankly at the scene before her. It was as if her heart had simply stopped working.

Then, as her gaze met mine, something flickered behind her empty eyes.

She knelt, picked up the scattered divorce papers, and placed them gently on Denver's desk.

Her voice was calm—painfully calm.

"Denver, I know it's always been Janine you love. Now that she's pregnant, you should give her the title she deserves."

A flicker of triumph flashed in Janine's eyes—but it quickly twisted into jealousy and spite.

Denver's expression hardened.

"Amelia, are you proud of yourself? You know the Fletcher family would never accept a disabled daughter-in-law, so you schemed against Janine, made her fall, and now you're pretending to be noble to win my sympathy? Do you think I can't see through you?"

I froze.

So he really did love Janine, but married Amelia only because Janine got injured and limped afterward.

"Oh, so the scheming bitch ruined her own life? Talk about karma!"

I floated around Janine's head, making faces at her even though she couldn't see me.

At least, Amelia laughed through her tears.

That single smile seemed to ignite Denver's fury all over again.

"Amelia, so what if you have the title of Mrs. Fletcher? Only Janine can give birth to the Fletcher family's heir. You'll never have anything!"

With that, he called security and had her "escorted" out.

A while later, Amelia sat down on the curb outside the company, staring blankly ahead. Her eyes were red but empty.

"Sherry," she whispered, "I'm sorry. I probably can't help you repay that one hundred million."

Her voice cracked. "I'm useless. I couldn't save you six years ago... and I can't save you now."

Her tears fell, heavy and silent, splashing onto her hands.

I reached out instinctively to wipe them away, but my hand passed straight through. Still, I stubbornly tried again and again.

"Amelia," I said softly, "whether you can help me or not doesn't matter. I just want you to be brave—like you were six years ago."

She looked up at me, her dazed expression slowly clearing. A hint of determination flickered in her eyes.