In the math exam, I did my usual routine—filled out the whole sheet but brilliantly avoided all the right answers.

That night, for once, my penny-pinching dad invited me to have dinner at the table.

I pushed around the potato, spying on the scanty strips of bacon at the bottom of the plate.

All pale and greasy—enough to turn anyone's stomach.

To him, this was generosity; typically, I'd be stuck in a corner with some bland soup and some pickles.

Back then, too timid to protest, I thought I had to step aside for her because I was the older sister.

Turns out, stepping aside nearly got me killed.

I took a bite of the potato, only to discover it was stale.

Instantly lost my appetite.

Over at Brittany's spot, her plate was a mountain of drumsticks and shrimp.

I slammed down my utensils and pointed straight at her plate. "I want what she's having."

Dad jumped, frowning and snapping, "You trying to scare me to death, you little jerk?"

"Would serve you right," I snapped back, undeterred. "That's the plate I want."

Brittany put on a show of being scared, her eyes welling up with crocodile tears.

"If Quinn wants it, let's switch," she said, voice dripping with faux sweetness.

"But you know I've got a stomach issue. Just potato won't cut it for me, not with the SATs tomorrow..."

Dad was totally buying her act, making her look like an angel and me, the villain.

The stark difference between us just fueled my rage even more.

He slammed his fork and was about to grab me, his hand poised to strike.

But I dodged and started running circles around the room, leaving him chasing after me with that fat and greasy body.

He lumbered after me, and after a couple of laps, he was gasping for breath, slowing down.

As I made a dash past the table, a foot suddenly shot out to trip me.

It was clearly a move that was meant for my life.

I went with the flow, stepping hard on it.

A piercing scream filled the room.

I feigned shock, staggered, and in a swift move, flipped the table.

The uproar of Dad's yelling and Brittany's shrieks were muffled by the crashing dishes and breaking wood.

They turned slowly, their expressions shifting from disbelief to shock as they looked at me.

How had the quiet girl from earlier transformed into this spitfire?

I'd intended to keep up my act till the SATs were done, but pushed to my limit, I wasn't holding back any longer.

If I kept my mouth shut any longer, I'd probably be signing my death warrant—again.

I grabbed a shard of glass and pressed it against my neck, the blood starting to seep out.

Brittany instantly looked panicked, her facade crumbling.

How could I afford to get hurt now?

If something happened to me, what would become of her pristine SAT scores and her shiny future?

She might want to rip me apart, but at this moment, she couldn't lay a finger on me.

Her face turned the color of spoiled wine, which was oddly satisfying to see.

With one hand holding the glass to my neck, I pointed another shard at that good-for-nothing dad of ours.

Thinking back to how he'd conspired with his girlfriend to dump his wife and daughter, my eyes blazed with hatred.

"Anybody crosses me today goes down with me. My dying is no big deal, but what about your darling daughter's rep?"

Imagine the headlines: [Teen Girl Dies Mysteriously at Home on Exam Day.] Even if Brittany scored top of the state, she'd get dragged through the mud online.

After chewing those two jerks out, I felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted off my chest.

Backpack in tow, I made a beeline for my mom's grave.

In a past life, Dad started fooling around with his mistress while Mom was pregnant.

And when Mom was weak from childbirth, he had the gall to bring that woman and Brittany, their love child, right into our home.

Later, he conspired with his mistress to off Mom and cash in on her life insurance.

Mom came from a family of notable entrepreneurs, while Dad was nothing more than a no-good barber.

She cut ties with her wealthy family to marry him, and within five years, he'd taken out massive insurance policies on her, making himself the beneficiary.

After I was born, seeing Mom was no longer of any use to him, he shamelessly brought his mistress and their kid into our lives.

It enraged Mom so much that she literally spat blood.

When I was four, Mom decided to divorce Dad for my sake.

Yet, realizing Mom's plan, he locked us in and tried to burn the house down the day before the divorce could happen.

By some fluke, I was out playing by the river, dodging a nap, and unknowingly dodging death.

But my poor mom was left to perish on that dreadful afternoon.

I solemnly lit three sticks of incense and bowed deeply, three times, at her gravesite.

I silently vowed to make those monsters pay for what they did to her.

After paying my respects, I inquired about other recent visitors with the cemetery staff.

The next stop was a convenience store with a lottery booth inside.

Desperate for cash in my past life, I thought I'd hit the jackpot by playing the lottery.

Luck wasn't in the cards, though—never hit a single jackpot.

Eventually, I started obsessing over lottery numbers, memorizing every winning sequence right up to the SATs.

Little did I know that small obsession would pay off big time in this life.

I marched into the shop and put all my money down on three sets of numbers.

The clerk gave me a look that screamed, "You're crazy," and muttered under his breath,

"Long shot, kid. Maybe dial it back a bit."

I brushed off his so-called advice like an annoying fly.

Secured the ticket, dusted myself off, and made my way back home to shake things up.

I'd be pleased if Dad got upset.

I'd be more pleased if Brittany got upset.

The angrier they got, the more I enjoyed it.

The house was eerily quiet when I returned.

As I switched my shoes at the door, Brittany crept out of Dad's room on tiptoes.

She glanced around nervously, clearly hiding something.

She didn't expect me here, so when she spotted me at the door, she screamed, "You trying to give me a heart attack?!"

I fired back without missing a beat, "Would be doing the world a favor—less trouble to deal with."

Before she could respond, she glanced toward Dad's room, covered her mouth, and scurried back to her own room.

I didn't chase after her to continue the fight.

Instead, I turned and made my way to the kitchen.

Just as I suspected, hidden in the lowest cabinet was a pack of laxatives.

Brittany always stashed stuff there in my previous life—guess some habits really do die hard.

Her little routine? Just made my revenge plan a whole lot easier.

By noon the next day, right after the STEM exam,

Brittany yanked me over to the cafeteria, handing me a lunchbox claiming Dad made it himself to reward my hard work.

Reward?

More like an attempt to take me out!

I grabbed the lunchbox, catching that sneaky glint in her eye.

English was next, her best subject. She didn't need to sabotage my score; she'd ace it anyway.

Clearly, she thought I was expendable and started scheming.

I smirked coldly, flipped the lid, and dumped the steaming contents right onto her head.

She yelped in pain, frantically trying to clear the mess off her hair.

I hurled the lunchbox to the floor and slapped her hard, twice, grabbing her hair with visible disdain. "Mess with me again, Brittany, just try."

After the English exam, I didn't stick around for Brittany to block my way. I bolted.

Hung out at a diner till eight, then hit up the nearest lottery shop.

Eight PM—the lottery results were in.

The three tickets I bought last night? Jackpot—all hits, totaling thirty million.

The same clerk who mocked me yesterday was now staring in disbelief at the winning numbers.

With the winnings secured, I checked into the area's most luxurious hotel for a month.

I learned about a local underprivileged area where kids were dropping out because they couldn't afford school fees.

I spent my own past life struggling with work and school yet received no respect.

Reflecting on that, I immediately donated twenty million.

Then I found a peaceful house in the next town over and paid a year's rent.

During my hotel stay, Dad's calls were relentless, always the same old rant.

"Where on earth are you, brat? Get back here and make dinner!"

"Get moving and earn some money for your sister's tuition!"

"You better never come back, or I swear I'll beat you senseless!"

"..."

His latest message was from yesterday.

[Results are out tomorrow. Your sister did well, so I've invited relatives and reporters...]

I tucked away my SAT practice tests and spent some time primping in front of the mirror.

Today was the big reveal for Brittany's scores after all.

On such a special day, I couldn't possibly miss it.

Following the old man's directions, I arrived at the city's most opulent restaurant.

Brittany had vowed to live-stream her score check in front of family, friends, and reporters.

The room was packed, and there she was in the center, decked out in a white gown and a tiara.

She looked smug as ever like the title of SAT champ was already a thing in her pocket.

She saw me and theatrically made a path through the crowd, beckoning me to sit by her.

The relatives were eating it up.

They were using every chance to dig at me to praise Brittany, the rat with ego.

"Quinn, how did you fare this time?"

"I've heard Quinn's pretty sharp, must've outscored her sister, right?"

"Well, no matter how smart, bad character ruins it all."

"I heard she dumped hot food on her sister during the exams just to mess her up."

"Seriously, how low can you go?"

"..."

The gossiping relatives didn't bother to whisper; it was clear they wanted us to hear every word.

Brittany's smirk widened as she heard those words.

But she squeezed my hand, feigning concern.

"Don't worry about them, Quinn," she whispered sweetly.

I yanked my hand away as if I'd touched something vile, my smile outshining hers.

"Why would I get mad? Not everyone's as petty as some people think."

Her smile stiffened instantly.

I dismissed her and shifted my focus to the head of the banquet.

Dad had squeezed into a suit and was schmoozing up by the school officials, his greasy smile more revolting than ever.

It was 1:55 PM, just five minutes until the official results were announced.

That'd be five minutes later.

As I surveyed the noisy crowd, I remembered the same moment from my previous life.

Back then, I was oblivious to Brittany's score swapping and thought I'd nailed the SATs, jumping straight into work to ease our financial burden.

On June 24th, Dad had me come home for a "celebration", and still in my yellow work uniform, I went to the restaurant.

There were also so many reporters surrounding outside.

I thought he'd finally recognized my efforts, wanting the press and family to celebrate my success.

But it turned out to be nothing more than a cruel setup orchestrated by him and Brittany.

When the results came out, she scored perfectly while I tanked.

Reporters who had surrounded me swarmed towards her instead.

Relatives started their mocking, and Dad went on record, portraying me as the jealous villain at home.

He compared me to a toad, to enhance his swan's image.

In no time, I became an outcast, vilified by everyone.

The memory was hard to stomach.

I closed my eyes, counting down silently.

Thirty seconds left.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door of our private room.