I clearly saw Dwayne walk out the front gate, then spit on the ground behind him, cursing under his breath with his mouth twisted in anger.

But that vicious look in his eyes turned to sheer terror in an instant. A few men stepped out from the shadows, grabbed him, and dragged him away. Someone clamped a hand over his mouth as they shoved him into a van.

Leisurely, I took out my phone and texted the loan shark.

“Make sure he can’t get out of bed for a few days. Don’t kill him though. Dead men can’t pay back what they owe.”

In my past life, Dwayne kept throwing me to those loan sharks, their harassment calls coming day and night. I never thought they’d one day be useful to me.

“You’re really not going to see your own father? Aren’t you even a little curious how he’s living now?” Morgan stood alone on the stairs. Mrs. Hart had already disappeared. As expected, once there was no one to watch her, she shed that pitiful, weak façade and revealed the aggressive woman underneath.

“If you’re so willing, I can send you back to keep him company.”

“But right now, you’re his daughter!”

“And you were his daughter for over ten years. How come you never thought about helping him then?”

Watching her choke on her words, I couldn’t help finding it amusing.

“Get some sleep. Your new life is only just beginning.”

I attended a certain private elite school, and soon enough, the Hart family had Morgan transferred in as well.

“Hey, she looks really familiar. Isn’t that the part-timer from the café at the gate?”

“Now that you mention it, she does look like her.”

“You’re kidding. Is campus security really this lax now? Just anyone can walk in?”

Morgan had dropped out of school in middle school and, before being recognized and taken home, she’d been working odd jobs outside our school.

In my previous life, it was the same. The Harts spent a fortune to send her here, yet she still never received any real respect. Rumors about her spread all over campus.

And she took all that anger out on me.

Back then, I’d just recovered from my injuries and returned to school. She constantly hovered around me, fussing over me, so attentive that I started doubting what I’d heard before falling into a coma and actually believed in her act of “sisterly affection.”

Then she tricked me into the second-floor bathroom stall, bullied me, and took a photo afterward to upload to the school forum.

It was a photo of me with my hair hanging loose, slumped on the bathroom floor, covered in shit and piss.

Over and over, the memory tortured me. It was impossible to forget.

“Selene, I forgot my pads. Can you bring some into the bathroom for me?”

Morgan’s message popped up on my phone.

My fingers actually trembled with excitement as I typed.

“Sure.”

“Thanks! Second stall on the left on the second floor. I’ll be waiting!” she replied almost instantly.

As soon as I walked into the bathroom, I headed straight for the stall at the very end, slipped inside, and let out a piercing scream.

Sure enough, I immediately heard Morgan rushing in. She hurried over and yanked open the door of the second stall.

A bucket of shit and piss came crashing down over her head.

Her scream was even louder than mine.

I stepped out and stared at her carefully—at her dripping hair, the filth soaking through her clothes—then couldn’t hold back my laughter.

When the image of my past self from that photo was completely replaced by Morgan’s current state, I laughed so hard my eyes stung.

“Didn’t you say the second stall?” she gasped, retching, her eyes filled with suspicion.

“Did I? Guess I misread it. I was in a hurry. So… do you still want these?” I held out the pads I’d prepared in my bag.

She glanced at me twice, then, guilty and flustered, took them from my hand.

I tilted my head and smiled. “Looks like you’ll be in here for a while. I’ll head out first.”

Outside, the sky was still a clear, brilliant blue, not a cloud in sight.

I stood in the sunlight, exhaling the stale air in my chest, steadying my racing heart.

Morgan, the reason I didn’t take a picture isn’t because I’m merciful.

It’s because what I’m after has nothing to do with your already ruined reputation.

“I’m out of cash. Give me some money.”

Dwayne blocked my way outside the school gates, speaking like it was his god‑given right.

“I don’t have any.” I pulled back, disgust curling in my chest.

“Then what the hell are you even doing over there if you can’t even scrape together a little money?” He grabbed my wrist in one rough fist, his gray, greasy nails slowly sinking into my skin.

“You should be asking Morgan,” I snapped. “I don’t have a name or a title here—where would I get money? She’s the legitimate Miss Hart now. You came to the wrong person.”

I tried to yank my hand free, but the more I struggled, the tighter his grip became.

“Yeah, you’re right. But that’s between me and that little bitch. You and I, we still haven’t settled our score.”

He gave my arm a vicious jerk and flung me into a narrow alley.

Dwayne ripped my backpack off my shoulders and shook it out, scattering cash and belongings across the dirty ground.

“That’s it? This little bit?” He sneered. “I’m not fucking happy.”

As he spoke, he slapped my cheek with his rough, filthy hand, again and again.

The alley was unlit, dim and suffocating, just like that cramped house from my previous life. The humiliation from back then slowly overlapped with this moment, layer upon layer.

“I told you, I don’t have anything. Go to Morgan.” I forced down the tremor in my chest and stared at his twisted face.

He spat, the warm, foul saliva splashing across my face.

“Let’s see which is tougher—your mouth, or my fists.”

His hand and his belt came down on me over and over, each blow hard enough to split me in two.

I curled in on myself, arms protecting my head, swallowing the sting of every strike. In the howling wind of the alley, Dwayne’s filthy curses tore at my ears.

I clenched my teeth and refused to beg. Begging never helped. I’d learned that the hard way in my last life.

“Please, I’m begging you.”

Those three words were nothing but an aphrodisiac for monsters like him.

Voices drifted in from the far end of the alley—two, maybe three people talking as they walked past. Dwayne froze, wary, and the blows stopped.

He grabbed my chin, fingers digging in cruelly. “Next time, you’d better bring more money. Or you won’t walk away from it.”

Blood had already started to seep from the corner of my mouth. My hair hung loose around my face. In the darkness, I probably looked like a demon crawling out of hell.

“Not happening. Go to Morgan.”

His answer was a blazing slap across my cheek.

By then, three or four strangers had turned into the alley, heading our way. He released me at once and bolted.

With nothing left to hold me up, I slid down the wall and collapsed onto the ground.

The people coming in noticed something was wrong and hurried toward me.

“Are you okay? There was someone else here just now, right?”

I forced my lips into a smile. “I’m fine. That was my dad. He was just…in a bad mood.”

Ignoring their stunned expressions, I staggered past them and out of the alley.

I leaned against the warmth of a streetlamp and dialed a number.

“Beat him again,” I said calmly. “Same as last time. Don’t kill him. He’ll pay you back soon.”

The light cast a faint, flickering shadow of me on the ground.

I looked up. A few moths circled the bright white bulb tirelessly, wings batting against the heat as if they didn’t know how to stop.

By the time I limped home, my body ached from head to toe. Inside, the three of them were laughing around the dinner table.

I was going to ruin their perfect little family scene.

“Did no one think to wait for me?” I sauntered over and pulled out a chair.

The air froze for a heartbeat.

Mrs. Hart’s brows knit as she took in my disheveled state. “What on earth happened to you?”

I flicked my gaze to Morgan and, sure enough, caught the flash of smug satisfaction in her eyes.

“Got bitten by a dog,” I said lightly.

“How would a dog bite you for no reason?” Mr. Hart asked in that slow, even tone of his.

“I don’t know.” What a pointless question.

“If you ‘don’t know,’ that just means you had it coming,” Morgan cut in quickly, her voice brimming with ridicule.

Had it coming?

I stared at her, the urge to skin her alive rising so fast it burned.

Morgan flinched under my gaze, then pointed at me as she turned to Mrs. Hart. “Mom, look at her. She’s glaring at me. She looks so mean.”

Mrs. Hart seemed to snap out of it and patted Morgan’s hand soothingly. “Enough. The dog bit you, fine—but why are you taking it out on Morgan?”

“You should go clean yourself up before you sit down to eat,” Mr. Hart added.

“Yeah. You look filthy. You’re ruining everyone’s appetite,” Morgan murmured from the side, her voice soft but clear enough for every person at the table to hear.

I looked from Mr. Hart’s calm, indifferent face to Mrs. Hart hovering protectively by Morgan’s side, and suddenly the wounds on my back throbbed with fresh, searing pain.