3: 3

03

Every face at the Fox table changed.

Bridget ran off in tears.

Davina hurried after her to soothe her.

Matthew threw down his chopsticks and went back to his study.

Ivan stood too. He looked at me. "Eleanor Pruitt, play the victim, sow whatever discord you like, none of it will work. Bridget is my only sister, and she'll be the only daughter this family has."

"Mm. I know."

I'd known since my last life. So this time it didn't hurt.

Ivan stared at how calm I was and, for a long moment, couldn't get a single word out. In the end he turned, face dark, and went upstairs.

I looked at the full table of food and sat down to eat, alone.

I'd been on the road all day, and my stomach had long since caved in on itself.

When I finished, I picked up my phone, snapped a photo, and sent it to Paul Griffin.

【Mr. Griffin, the Fox family fed me their leftovers. (pitiful.jpg)】

Paul answered fast, as always, with the same utterly cold 【Mm.】

I was still trying to work out what he actually meant when my bank account pinged with a transfer of two hundred thousand.

I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud.

Davina happened to be passing behind me, and when she saw me laughing, the anger flared up out of nowhere.

"Eleanor Pruitt, does making your sister cry really make you this happy? What has she ever done to you!"

Her eyes reddened as she spoke.

She was remembering Bridget as a little girl, that thin, tiny bundle pressed to her chest, the child she'd nursed and raised with her own hands.

Such a bright, cheerful child, and now she was crying her heart out, brow furrowed even in her sleep.

And here the one who'd caused it all was this happy.

She really was furious.

I put away the smile, lifted my head, and said, "Mrs. Fox, Bridget and I are the same age."

Her anger jammed mid-breath. Her mouth opened, and it took her a long while before she managed, "Ellie, that's not what I meant... I just think you two sisters could get along..."

I didn't answer that. I changed the subject. "Mrs. Fox, where am I staying?"

Only then did Davina realize that all this time she'd been so busy comforting Bridget she'd completely forgotten to arrange a room for me.

All she could manage, awkwardly, was, "The guest room..."

I nodded. "Thank you."

Guilt flickered through her eyes, and she carried my luggage upstairs herself.

But the moment she pushed the guest room door open, she froze.

The perfectly good guest room was packed with junk, not even room to set a foot down.

She quickly called a maid over to ask what was going on.

"Miss Bridget was worried her piano practice would disturb everyone's rest, so she turned the basement into a music room. There was nowhere to put the things from the basement, so we had to move them into the guest room for now..."

"Is there any other guest room still open?"

"Only the maid's room is left..."

Davina's vision went black. She looked at me, mouth opening and closing, opening and closing, unable to get a word out for a long time.

I smiled at her and said, unbothered, "I'll take the maid's room, then."

The guilt on her face grew heavier.

She saw me into the room and, eyes red, said, "Ellie, I'll have someone clear out the guest room tomorrow. Just bear with it for tonight."

"Mm." I nodded coldly.

Her eyes reddened further. "Do you really have nothing to say to your mother?"

I felt a flicker of impatience.

I thought back to the day I first came home last life.

That night I'd stayed in this same maid's room, and Davina had been just as guilty then, holding my hand, telling me to pour out every hurt I'd ever carried.

I leaned into her arms and told her how at five I'd been so hungry I had to steal the bread other people had left behind.

Told her how at ten I'd had my eardrum ruptured fighting over a plastic bottle.

Told her how at fifteen, with nowhere to go, a strange man had cornered me under a bridge and I'd nearly been violated.

Eighteen years of suffering, and spoken aloud it came out as nothing more than a few weightless sentences.

Davina held me and wept until her face was streaked with tears, swearing she would love me properly from then on, never let me suffer again.

Except the very next day she broke her word.

Bridget cried that her necklace was missing, and only I had been in her room.

Davina didn't give me a single chance to explain. She slapped me across the face.

She said I'd been a thief since childhood, that this life I would never be cured of my stealing.

The memory drew back in. I leaned against the headboard and said flatly, "Mrs. Fox, I'm tired. I'd like to rest."

Davina had probably never been shown out this bluntly. She stiffened, then slowly rose and left, closing the door behind her.

The moment she was gone I sat up and took a photo of the maid's room.

Just as I was about to hit send, I hesitated.

I couldn't keep playing the victim with Paul.

I thought for a moment, then pulled my clothes into disarray, baring two long, pale legs, and took the photo again.

No face.

But it looked innocent and inviting at once.

Pleased, I sent that photo to Paul Griffin.

【Mr. Griffin, the maid's room is so small, I can't even stretch my legs out. (crying.jpg)】

4: 4

04

This time Paul's reply wasn't just a cold "Mm."

The chat window kept showing that he was typing.

It was a long while before I heard the message tone.

【Dress properly.】

"Tsk. Such a prude."

I muttered it under my breath, didn't bother replying, lay back on the bed, and was out cold within minutes.

Those two years in prison in my last life had been brutal. I'd never once slept well.

By the time I woke, it was already past noon.

I lingered in bed a while before getting up, because I really didn't want to face whatever new tricks Bridget had cooked up.

But when I stepped out, I found the villa quiet and empty. Not one of the Foxes was home.

This wasn't how things had gone last time.

Was rebirth setting off some kind of butterfly effect?

I said nothing and waited. The Foxes didn't come back until evening.

They all wore pleased expressions, Bridget most of all. Instead of the sobbing act she'd put on the moment she saw me last life, she smiled and greeted me.

It was downright eerie.

Stranger still, in the days that followed, Bridget didn't come after me even once. It made no sense at all.

Right up until the day before her gallery opening.

I braced myself as if for battle.

Last life, this was the very day Bridget invited me to her gallery, burned her most expensive oil painting right in front of me, then framed me for arson.

I expected her to pull the same trick. Instead the day passed calm as still water, and nothing happened.

I pressed my lips together. Bridget, and the whole Fox family, couldn't have just changed their nature like that.

What on earth had happened?

Luckily my confusion didn't last long. That night, I got my answer.

It turned out it was all because of Paul.

The second day after I arrived at the Fox house, Paul had made an announcement.

He was looking for a fiancée, with two requirements.

One, she had to be from their circles.

Two, she had to have just turned eighteen this year.

Not many people fit that, and Bridget was one of them.

So all this time, Matthew and Davina had been dragging Bridget from one social event to the next, trying to get her in front of Paul.

Their efforts paid off. Paul had decided to attend Bridget's opening ceremony.

Which was why, this whole time, Bridget hadn't had a moment to spare for tormenting me.

Today especially, she was frantic.

She'd hired the best styling team money could buy, spending an entire day just trying on gowns and jewelry. To make sure nothing went wrong, she'd had the whole team brought straight to the Fox house.

That was how I ended up learning about Paul in the first place.

Seeing that I already knew, Bridget put on a guilty face, eyes rimmed red. "Sis, it's been so hectic these past few days, I forgot to order you a gown for tomorrow's ceremony. We're about the same size, though. Why don't you wear one of my old ones?"

The words were barely out of her mouth when Ivan strode over, impatient. "Eleanor, what are you kicking up a fuss about now? You came out of the slums. You don't know the first thing about etiquette. What business do you have at an opening?"

Davina chimed in too. "Ellie, tomorrow's ceremony means a lot to Bridget. It's not that Mom doesn't want you there. I'm just afraid you won't fit in. Everyone coming tomorrow is from our circles, and you don't know how things work in that world."

Matthew was even more irritable. "Why are you wasting all this breath on her? Eleanor, tomorrow you stay home and behave. You're not to go anywhere."

They expected me to be unhappy, to be hurt, to make a scene.

But I did none of it. I nodded obediently and went back to my room like a good girl.

The moment the door shut, I rubbed at my eyes, hard, for a good long while.

Once they were rubbed raw and red, I took a pitiful little photo and sent it to Paul.

【Mr. Griffin, the Foxes won't let me go to the ceremony. I won't be able to see you tomorrow.（sad.jpg）】

By now I had a good read on his temper.

Paul seemed to have a real soft spot for my helpless, coaxing act. Every time I did it, he'd say a little more than usual.

Sure enough, his message came a second later.

【Tomorrow morning, someone will come for you.】

I sent back a "love you" sticker and fell asleep with my mind at ease.

Early the next morning I was woken by the sound of Bridget screaming at her makeup artist.

Unable to get back to sleep, I snapped a photo of myself in my slip nightgown, heavy-lidded and sleepy, and sent it to Paul.

【Morning, Mr. Griffin.】

Paul didn't reply.

I wasn't in any hurry.

After the Foxes had all left, a message from Paul suddenly came through.

【Come downstairs.】

I hurried out.

A black van sat quietly at the corner.

Inside was a top-tier styling team.

Two hours later, I was brought to the entrance of Bridget's gallery.

The opening ceremony was a grand affair. Nearly everyone in high society had turned out.

They hadn't come for the Foxes, and certainly not for Bridget.

Every last one of them had come for Paul.

Even from outside the door I could hear them showering Bridget with praise.

"Bridget is so accomplished for her age. Not only does she paint beautifully, she's even caught the eye of that man."

"Mr. and Mrs. Fox were both giants in the art world in their day. No wonder they raised such a fine daughter."

"Oh, if only our own child were as remarkable as Bridget."

Hearing all this, I curled the corner of my mouth and pushed the gallery doors wide open.