Derek Lewis killed me six times for Claire White.

Each time, I waited for him to change his mind, but every time, he drove the knife straight into my chest.

“Sherry, Claire was born with a serious heart condition. You’re the only compatible donor who can save her. I swear—you’re the only woman I’ll ever marry.”

But before the first week after my death had even passed, he married Claire.

My former mansion became their new home, and my sports cars were used as their wedding cars.

Even the Lewis family’s billion-dollar fortune became jointly owned between them.

Standing in line to be reborn again, I finally realized that I didn’t want the scumbag anymore, but the Lewis family’s wealth had always included my share.

So, I was reborn, choosing to become their child.

On the day of the delivery, Derek publicly announced that Lewis Group would one day belong solely to this child.

Inside the delivery room, I was born crying.

Claire took one look at me, and her scream tore through the room.

“Derek, why does our baby look like Sherry?”

The delivery room doors were slammed open with a bang as Derek Lewis rushed in.

“Claire, what happened?”

Claire White collapsed on the delivery bed, her damp bangs clinging to her forehead. She pointed at me in the nurse’s arms, her face filled with terror.

“Derek… how could this happen… how is this possible?!”

The room reeked of blood mixed with disinfectant, dulling the senses.

Derek followed the direction of her finger. The moment his gaze landed on me, he froze in place.

My face was a mirror of the one he remembered—Sherry Warren’s.

Even the faint beauty mark on the tip of the nose was exactly the same.

He looked down at me as if struck by lightning.

“How could this be…”

His throat went dry as he took me from the nurse. His fingers turned pale from gripping too tightly, and a trace of guilt and longing surfaced in his eyes.

Claire was immediately triggered by that look.

Wrapped in her hospital gown, she screamed, “This isn’t my child! Throw it away! Get rid of it right now!”

I heard that and thought, “Are you serious?”

Absolutely not.

I had just started this new life. No way I was getting eliminated at the starting line.

I burst into loud cries, pushing my voice to the limit. But the moment my eyes caught Derek, I abruptly cut it off, leaving only soft, aggrieved sobs.

Tears clung to my lashes as I stretched out my tiny arms toward him, telling him to hold me.

The man froze where he stood. Something soft in his chest tightened under my tears and extended hands, throwing his breathing off rhythm.

He looked down at me, guilt surging in his eyes like a rising tide, almost spilling over.

“Claire…” Derek’s voice was hoarse.

“The heart beating inside you still belongs to Sherry. Perhaps that's exactly why the child looks like her.”

Claire refused to listen. She grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him.

“I won’t accept this. This is not my child!”

Derek raised one hand to block it, pulling me into his arms, his voice firm and leaving no room for argument.

“Claire, stop this. She is our child.”

With that single sentence, my fate was decided.

Derek’s attitude was exactly what I had expected.

We had been married for four years, and he had always wanted a child, but fate had other plans—he had a low sperm count.

IVF, herbal treatments, artificial insemination… we had tried almost everything, and all of it failed.

If I hadn’t chosen Claire’s womb as a vessel, he would never have become a father in this lifetime.

Seeing that Derek had made up his mind, Claire glared at me with open disgust.

But she could only grit her teeth and swallow her anger.

After all, in the Lewis family, Derek had the final say.

After being discharged and returning home, Claire couldn’t even be bothered to keep up appearances.

She didn’t even spare me a glance and directly handed me over to the nanny.

“Feed her formula from now on. Don’t bother me unless it’s necessary.”

As if I would let her have her way.

The moment the nanny brought the bottle to my mouth, I sucked once, then immediately turned my head.

Pfft!

I spat the entire mouthful of milk onto Claire’s favorite silk nightgown. The milky stain spread across her calf, warm and sticky.

She shrieked and jumped back.

“You little brat. Eat if you want. If not, then starve!”

So, I went on a hunger strike.

I refused formula and a wet nurse.

In just two days, my face turned sallow from hunger, my cries loud enough to shake the house.

Derek was urgently called back from overseas overnight.

The moment I saw him, I stopped crying.

My tiny hand grabbed onto his index finger, and I let out a soft giggle.

The man’s heart instantly gave way. He lowered his voice and gave an order, “Have Claire feed her personally.”

Claire was dragged over by the servants, reluctantly undoing her buttons.

The moment I latched on, I bit down. My gums were soft, but it was still enough to make her gasp in pain.

Once I was full, I stretched my arms out again, asking Derek to hold me.

He scooped me into his arms, his tone calm but laced with warning, “Claire, the baby only takes your milk. Feed her on time from now on. Don’t let her go hungry again.”

From then on, the moment I felt hungry, Claire had no choice but to bare herself.

Her skin was left marked and raw from my bites, yet she could only dig her nails into her own palm, swallowing every scream.

Time flew by, and soon it was my first birthday. It was the day of the traditional 'Grab' ceremony, where the first object I snatched would foretell my entire future.

The family threw a celebration to mark it.

A week earlier, Claire had suddenly turned into a different person, overflowing with maternal affection.

Not only did she make sure I was fully fed, she held me in her arms, calling me “sweetheart” and “baby.”

Whenever she had the chance, she would dangle an emerald charm in front of me, her voice syrupy sweet.

“Sweetheart, pick this at the ceremony. Then you’ll be the Lewis family’s lucky star.”

I sneered inwardly.

Others might not know, but I knew perfectly well.

Back then, Derek’s father had spent over twenty million dollars at an auction just to win an emerald charm for his mistress, which angered Derek’s mother so much that she vomited blood on the spot and passed away not long after.

She wanted me to touch Derek’s deepest sore spot in public, to make him resent me?

Claire really thought this through.

Too bad she chose the wrong target.

I had been with Derek for eight years. No one understood him or the Lewis family better than I did.

The selection ceremony began.

In the grand hall, a red carpet stretched across the floor, golden lights dazzling overhead.

A ten-meter-long table was laid out, covered with symbolic prizes: a stack of property deeds, the company’s official seal, a title deed to a harbor terminal… and at the very center sat a luminous emerald charm worth eight figures.

I crawled across the long table, bare-bottomed.

Treasure after treasure lay within reach.

The crowd held its breath, waiting to see what I would choose.

I didn’t even glance at them.

I crawled straight to the corner, reached out, and grabbed an unremarkable silk pouch.

Someone in the crowd let out a snort of laughter.

“So tacky. Surrounded by a fortune, and she picks up trash.”

Hearing the mockery, Claire showed no instinct to protect me.

Instead, she curled her lips and watched my performance.

Amid the laughter filling the hall, only Derek’s expression changed.

His eyes widened as he rushed forward, lifting me high into the air, his voice trembling.

“Sweetheart, it seems even the Lewis ancestors have acknowledged you.”

He opened the pouch in front of everyone.

Inside lay an antique cufflink, its inner edge engraved with a single line of fine script: Heir to the Lewis family.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Lewis, your daughter picked the best fortune!” someone called out from the crowd.

Claire froze where she stood, her nails digging into her palm. The corners of her mouth twitched again and again, yet she still forced out a composed smile.

Curled up in Derek’s arms, I let out a soft giggle.

Derek once told me that the pouch contained the Lewis family heirloom, passed down only to each head of the family.

After the celebration, he became even more devoted to me, the picture of a doting father.

He had my crib moved into the master bedroom and personally fed me and burped me at night.

When he traveled for work, it was even more over the top—there was always a folded stroller tucked beside his luggage, and wherever he went, I went with him.

During business negotiations, I sat beside him in a baby seat, clutching my bottle and gulping happily.

When his assistant quietly reminded him that it wasn’t appropriate, Derek glanced up coldly.

“The future heiress of the Lewis family sits here. What’s inappropriate about that?”

At evening functions, he let me sit on his shoulders, showing me off to everyone he met.

“Look at my daughter. Isn’t she beautiful? Isn’t she adorable?”

Outside, people spread the word that he and his wife were deeply in love and that he spoiled his daughter beyond measure.

When Claire heard this, she flew into a rage in the kitchen, smashing a stack of dishes, her fingers trembling with anger.

But soon, it was as if she had made up her mind. A cold smile curled on her lips.

Under Derek’s care, I lived a life soaked in sweetness, like being dipped in honey, until I turned three, and Claire was pushed into the delivery room once again.

A few days later, she returned triumphantly, holding a wrinkled newborn boy, smiling like she had just won a battle.

“You little brat, you’re finished! Now that there’s a son, let’s see if your father even looks at you anymore.”

Her nails dug into my cheek, almost drawing blood.

Tears welled up at the corners of my eyes, but inside, I sneered—she had just dug her own grave.

With Derek’s condition, there was no way he could have another child.

On the day I was reborn, an administrator in the underworld had whispered to me—if I hadn’t agreed to be born into the Lewis family, their bloodline would have ended.

But I knew this wasn’t the time to drop the act.

Since Claire wanted to play her part, I’d stay on stage with her.

When I came of age, I’d deliver her a “gift” she wouldn’t forget.

Before that, I had to make myself worthy of the title “heiress.”

While Evan Lewis was still drinking from a bottle, I brought home the city’s kindergarten recitation championship.

While he played in the mud outside, I won first place in the elementary school math competition.

When he was disciplined in ninth grade for fighting, I had already secured early admission into an elite university program.

When he got into trouble for dating too young and the girl’s parents came knocking, I was interning at Lewis Group over the summer.

From top to bottom, the Lewis family couldn’t stop praising me, certain that the company would only grow stronger in my hands.

I left early and returned late every day, so much so that Derek could hardly find a moment to speak to me.

At that moment, he sat in his top-floor office, quietly sulking.

“Yuna’s really grown up. She’s got her wings now. She used to cling to me all the time when she was little.”

The assistant froze, unsure how to respond, but Derek quickly talked himself out of it.

“Well, my girl’s outstanding. Of course she’s busy.”

Somehow, word got back to Claire that Derek had been “upset” at the office because of me.

At dinner, she seized the chance to take a jab.

“Derek, Yuna has been spoiled too much by us…”

“Spoiled?” Derek looked up, his voice cold enough to chill the room.

“Yuna can read financial reports at sixteen and rotates through three departments a day during her internship. And Evan? What does he do besides getting into fights and chasing girls? So, tell me, who exactly is the one being spoiled?”

Claire’s smile stiffened as she forced out an explanation.

“I just worry she’s growing up too fast and missing out on the joys of being young.”

Derek let out a cold snort and ignored her.

Instead, he placed a piece of fish onto my plate, his voice soft again.

“Sweetheart, I’ve picked out the bones. Eat slowly.”

I lowered my head and continued eating. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Claire’s nails digging into the tablecloth until it turned pale, yet she didn’t dare speak again.

Across from me, Evan looked reluctant to accept it, glaring at me as if he could burn a hole through me.

During the final summer before college, I had just stepped off the plane when I received a call from Claire.

“Yuna, your father’s been in a car accident; he’s in the ICU. Get over here and stay with him! If Derek doesn’t wake up, don’t even think about coming back to the Lewis family!”

I stood outside the hospital room with my suitcase, staring at Derek’s still sharp features, the old hatred in my chest refusing to fade.

Back then, in this very hospital, Derek had personally signed six surgical consent forms, pinning me to the operating table and cutting out my heart to save Claire.

Now his life hung by a thread, yet Claire was nowhere to be seen.

The irony was almost laughable.

I suppressed the hatred in my eyes, a faint smile curling at my lips.

Take care of Derek?

That was something I was very good at.

The caregiver had just brought in a cup of warm water when I casually stirred in two spoonfuls of mustard.

Even unconscious, Derek swallowed reflexively. The next second, his brows twisted into a tight knot, his throat bobbing in discomfort.

During his daily sponge baths, I mixed extra menthol oil into the medicated oil, deliberately focusing on sensitive areas—his underarms, inner thighs, and the base of his spine.

Even in his sleep, his body tensed like a drawn bow, cold sweat sliding down from his temples.

The silence in the room was suffocating, so I put on a couple of over-the-top soap operas—titles like “Wife and Her Affair Pulled My Oxygen Tube” and “After the Paternity Test, I Lost Everything.”

Whenever the plot hit its peak, I turned the volume up, letting the drama echo through the room.

Late at night, bored out of my mind, I set up a projector and played horror movies.

Derek had always been timid.

He couldn’t even walk alone at night.

On the monitor, his heart rate shot straight up to 130.

Watching him restless even in a coma, I almost laughed out loud.

Too bad the good times didn’t last.

Before I could have my fill, Derek woke up.