The moment he saw the caller ID, the hostility in his eyes softened into something gentle.

“Hello, Belle? You’re back from your trip? I’ll come pick you up at the airport.”

After hanging up, he dressed in haste. Even while tying his tie, he didn’t forget to throw a warning at me.

“Jeanne, it’s one thing for you to stoop to such cheap tricks, but if you ever try anything like this with Belle, I’ll make sure you learn what it means to live a fate worse than death.”

I wanted to cry, but no tears came, only a crushing, endless exhaustion.

And today, that exhaustion finally drowned me.

Staring at Lysander’s cold, distant figure standing below, I closed my eyes and jumped without hesitation.

With a sharp crash, my body met the ground.

My body hit the ground, bounced once, then crumpled again, limbs twisted, skull shattered, blood pooling in every direction.

It was so horrific, even the birds overhead seemed to wail in mourning.

But Lysander, he didn’t so much as blink.

With chilling calmness, he called the police, the ambulance, and informed my parents.

And I thought, maybe this was for the best. Maybe in death, they would finally love me.

But heaven never granted me that wish.

The first to arrive was my father. He froze when he saw my broken form. His brows furrowed, then instantly relaxed when he heard I was already gone.

“So Jeanne’s really dead. I suppose that’s for the best. We didn’t treat her badly while she was alive, but she was always unhappy.”

My mother came next. By then, a white sheet had been pulled over my body.

She took one glance, shut her eyes as if startled, but then let out a breath of relief.

“Jeanne was too sensitive,” she whispered to my father. “Her death might be a relief. For her… and for us.”

The third to arrive was my older brother.

Watching them zip my broken body into a black body bag, he let out a cold laugh.

“Jeanne, I told you, someone as weak as you was never worthy of being part of this family.”

The last to appear was Belle.

She hadn’t even reached me when Lysander pulled her into his arms, gently shielding her eyes.

“Belle, it’s filthy. Don’t look.”

Belle shoved him away, tears streaming down her face.

“Lysander, how could you say that about my sister? She died because of me; it’s my fault. I killed her!”

My brother quickly stepped forward, his tone coaxing.

“Belle, her death has nothing to do with you. Don’t waste your tears on someone like her.”

Then my parents joined in, their voices tender and doting.

“Belle, tomorrow is your birthday. Let’s throw you a beautiful party, alright?”

One honeyed word after another, they coaxed Belle into smiling again, her face glowing like nothing had happened.

No one spared a glance at my bloodied, lifeless body as the entire family walked away, cheerful and united.

When they got into the car, Belle turned back and looked in my direction, her eyes gleaming with the pride of a victor.

I wanted to run after them, to scream, did any of you remember that tomorrow was my birthday too?

But my soul was frozen, trapped in that very spot, unable to move, unable to leave.

And in that moment, regret struck hard.

If I had the chance to start over, I wouldn’t waste a single tear on them.

I would love myself with everything I had.

In a daze, I heard the chime of midnight strike twelve.

A soft breeze brushed gently across my cheek, like a whisper from fate.

When I opened my eyes, I was stunned to find myself back on the very day I had been brought home to the Gomez family.

I wore a faded plaid shirt and worn jeans, standing alone on a dusty country road as the driver loaded my few pitiful belongings into the trunk.

His familiar face made my heart stutter, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell what was real.

In my past life, when I first saw him, I had nervously asked if he was my father.

He had stared at me in stunned silence before finally telling me the truth.

My parents and older brother had all flown to the Maldives, celebrating Belle’s coming-of-age ceremony.

From that moment on, I knew I was never welcome in this family.

So I walked on eggshells, shrinking myself in every way just to please them.

But love that never existed would never grow. In their eyes, my obedience was nothing but weakness. My efforts were worthless.

In this life, I would never make the same mistake again.

When we arrived at the villa, the driver gently woke me from sleep, and a servant stepped forward to carry my luggage.

At the sight of my worn-out suitcase, someone snickered and muttered under their breath, “Country bumpkin.”

It had been the same in my past life. Back then, I pretended not to hear, choosing instead to bury myself in etiquette books, working tirelessly to prove I belonged.

But this time, I didn’t look away. I called for the housekeeper and calmly pointed to the ones who had laughed.

“Fire all of them.”

The housekeeper froze for a moment, then his expression shifted into quiet disapproval. “Miss Jeanne, they’ve all been with the family for years…”

I met his gaze with a faint smile. “Aren’t I one of the masters of this house?”

The housekeeper said nothing.

Without another word, I turned and walked straight toward the door. “Since the Gomez family doesn’t welcome me, there’s no reason for me to stay.”

His expression didn’t flicker. He was convinced I wouldn’t have the courage to leave.

But when I picked up my suitcase and stepped right through the gates without hesitation, heading toward the neighborhood exit, his composure began to crack.

All the residents in this villa district were of equal social standing; they all knew about the real and fake daughter incident.

If word got out that the Gomez family had driven their real daughter away, they’d lose all their dignity.

The housekeeper hurried after me, but I didn’t spare him a glance. I quickened my pace.

Who would’ve thought that after only a few steps, I would walk straight into someone’s arms?

A familiar, incredible scent wrapped around me, and I instinctively looked up.

It was Lysander.

Eighteen-year-old Lysander still carried the softness of youth, and baby fat lingered on his face, giving him a hint of innocence.

There was no shadow in his gaze yet; his eyes were bright, clear, untouched by time.

When he saw me, he stopped in his tracks, startled, and blurted out, “Jeanne?”

My heart jolted.

Why would Lysander know me at this point in time? For a brief moment, I wondered if he, too, had been reborn.

But the look in his eyes said otherwise, so unguarded, so pure.

The Lysander I had known at twenty-five would never look at me like that.

So then, how did he know who I was?

I asked the question that had been weighing on my mind without hesitation.

Lysander turned his head slightly, his thumb and index finger rubbing together in that subtle, familiar motion. “The Crawford and Gomez families are close. It’s not strange that I know you.”

He was lying.

Whenever Lysander lied, he would rub his fingers together, like snapping an invisible thread.

But what puzzled me more was what he said next.

He shot the housekeeper a cold glare and demanded, “You brought her back to the Gomez family. Why aren’t you treating her properly?”

It was strange.

In my last life, Lysander had never treated me poorly, but he had never defended me either.

As if realizing my confusion, Lysander awkwardly stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body. His ears flushed red.

I pressed my lips together, swallowing all my questions. After all, this version of Lysander was clearly to my advantage.

Lysander personally escorted me back to the Gomez family villa and gave the housekeeper a firm order to dismiss the maids who had mocked me.

Then he turned to me and said with certainty, “Jeanne, if there’s anything else you want, just say the word. I’ve got your back.”

I paused, letting the silence hang for a moment, then pointed directly at Belle’s room.

“Clear it out. I want to live there.”

The housekeeper remained silent, but it was Lysander’s expression that wavered first.

“Jeanne… that’s Belle’s room.”

I lowered my gaze. As expected, the one he cared for most was still Belle.

Thinking I was about to back down, Lysander stepped closer and said gently, “Jeanne, why not choose another room? I remember the guest room on the third floor, it’s spacious and full of light. See if you like it.”

Guest room. Always a guest room.

In my previous life, I had never been given a room of my own in the Gomez household.

Even after I got married, I was still living in that same guest room.

I had never truly belonged.

I brushed off Lysander’s hand and said coldly, “This is our family’s business. You don’t need to interfere. Housekeeper, clear the room.”

Perhaps sensing I was no longer someone to be taken lightly, the housekeeper said nothing more and obediently called the maids to clean.

At the same time, I silently signaled for Lysander to leave.

For the next few days, he came to the Gomez residence to wait for me.

I kept my distance, avoiding him at every turn.

He seemed frustrated at first, but eventually, he stopped coming altogether.

One morning, I heard the sound of a car pulling into the courtyard, and I knew my parents and brother had returned with Belle.

The whole family entered, laughter trailing behind them, until they saw me lying on the sofa, quietly reading.

The laughter died instantly. I stood up first and greeted them calmly. “Dad. Mom. Brother.”

My parents frowned, but before either could speak, Conrad Gomez snapped coldly, “Why didn’t you greet Belle?”

I turned toward her.

Her eyes had already turned red the moment she saw me, and after hearing Conrad’s voice, she choked up.

“It’s only right that Sister doesn’t like me. After all, I took her place…”

My mother couldn’t bear the sight of Belle in tears. She rushed over, gently wiping them away.

“Belle, you didn’t take anyone’s place. You’re my daughter.”

Belle sobbed harder and threw herself into her arms.

Watching this flawless performance of motherly love, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Conrad noticed immediately.

He shot me a look full of disgust and snapped, “No manners.”

I shrugged, tone calm and careless. “Can’t help it. I didn’t grow up with a mom or dad, so no one taught me manners. You’ll just have to put up with it.”

Everyone’s face darkened.

Sensing the tension thickening in the room, my father finally stepped in.

“Alright, that’s enough. We’ll talk later. Everyone’s tired, let’s eat first.”

The family gathered around the dining table, each one silent, thoughts scattered, the air heavy.

But I was unfazed, quietly enjoying my meal.

Conrad frowned, ready to speak, but Mom gently held his arm.

She placed two cards in front of me and Belle.

“Jeanne, this is the birthday gift your father and I prepared for your eighteenth. The PIN is your birthdate. You and Belle each get one.”

Belle instantly broke into a sweet smile.

“Thank you, Mom!”

The moment she held the card, she suddenly paused, as if something had come to mind. Her eyes shimmered with tears.

“Mom, I just remembered those children we met in the mountain villages. They were so pitiful. I want to donate my birthday gift to them. Is that alright?”

“Belle, you’re so kind. Mom supports you.”

My mother looked at Belle with pride, glowing in her eyes.

But with just one sentence, Belle placed me in an impossible position.

All eyes turned to me in unison.

In my past life, unable to bear the weight of their gazes, I had whispered, “Th-then… I’ll donate mine too…”

It had been the very first gift I’d ever received, but even that, I wasn’t allowed to keep.