In my past life, the only person who ever showed me an ounce of affection was my fiancé, Sterling.

To my family, I was nothing more than an exclusive bone marrow bank for my sister, Veronica.

But Sterling remembered that I liked vanilla lattes and dreamed of being a designer.

He was the only warmth in my bleak existence.

He even presented me with an engagement ring, promising to protect me forever.

In that moment, I thought I had finally found my light.

But it was only on my deathbed that I realized all of Sterling’s kindness was built on a single condition: my willingness to be a living bone marrow bank for Veronica.

His promises were just a tool to control me.

After I was reborn, the first thing I did was use the five-hundred-million-dollar trust fund the Sterling family had given me to buy a secluded island.

I just wanted to disappear.

But just when I thought I was finally free, why were my family and Sterling so desperate to have me back?

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1

The first thing I did after my rebirth was call a lawyer. I was using the five-hundred-million-dollar trust fund the Sterling family had established for me to purchase a secluded island. That money was their compensation for my years of service as a "bone marrow donor" for my sister, Veronica.

In my past life, it wasn't until I lay dying that I understood what a pathetic joke my life had been. My parents adopted me for one reason: to be a walking, talking blood bank for my sister, Veronica, and her rare form of bone marrow failure. My brother, Felix, only ever had eyes for Veronica, who would cry at the drop of a hat. "Felix," she’d whine, "Clara just pushed me. She said I was a burden." And my fiancé, Sterling—all his tenderness was built on my willingness to be a donor for Veronica.

I once thought he was my light. He’d remember I had a weak stomach and secretly leave a glass of warm milk for me after a bone marrow aspiration. He’d remember me idly mentioning my dream of "finding a quiet place to design." But all that gentleness shattered in the face of Veronica's tears. On my deathbed, I heard Veronica whisper to him, "Sterling, please, if you let Clara go, I'll die without her bone marrow. You can't let her know you care about her, or she'll throw a fit and try to leave me."

"Miss Hawthorne, are you certain about this?" the lawyer handling the paperwork asked, his expression bewildered. "Once you purchase this island and take up residence, you'll be almost completely cut off from the outside world."

I nodded, a hint of relief in my voice. "That's exactly what I want. A place where no one can find me."

But before I could even sign the papers, a black Bentley screeched to a halt right in front of me.

The car door flew open. Sterling strode toward me, the tips of his fingers ghostly pale. He grabbed my wrist, his touch surprisingly light, yet his fingers trembled with an almost imperceptible panic. "Clara, come with me, quickly. Veronica, she..."

Before he could finish, Veronica's tearful voice crackled through his phone. "Sterling, I fell down the stairs, it hurts so much... Is Clara still mad at me? Is she refusing to see me?"

My blood ran cold. In my past life, that same cry had tricked me into rushing to the hospital. This time, however, I remembered with chilling clarity. As I was leaving that morning, I had watched Veronica deliberately step on the hem of her own dress, "accidentally" tumbling down the steps in front of Sterling, even shooting a quick glance in my direction before she fell.

"Sterling..." I began, wanting to see if he would show even a flicker of hesitation.

He missed the warning in my voice completely. He just pulled me toward the car, his eyes scanning my face as he asked softly, "Why do you look so pale?"

Just then, Veronica's sobs intensified over the phone. "Sterling, I don't think I can hold on..."

Sterling hesitated for a split second, but his resolve crumbled, and he pushed me into the back seat.

The car sped to the family's private clinic. As he led me toward the bone marrow aspiration room, his fingertips gently stroked my wrist, as if he were afraid of hurting me.

"Veronica took a bad fall. Her platelet count is dropping fast. We won't take too much this time, don't worry," Sterling's voice was hoarse. I saw him secretly motion to the therapist, his lips forming the words, "Take less. Don't hurt her."

But before the therapist could nod, a sharp slap landed across my face. "You heartless thing! Where did you run off to? Didn't I tell you to stay by your sister's side at all times?"

Veronica immediately rushed to grab our mother's hand. "Mom, don't hit Clara," she pleaded, her eyes already red. "It must be my fault. Yesterday, I told Clara I wanted her to go to the art gallery with me. She probably got annoyed and hid from me..." As she spoke, her nails dug into my arm, the pain so sharp it made me gasp.

My father, restraining my furious mother, looked at me with crushing disappointment. "Clara, why must you be so defiant? Veronica is this sick, and you're still acting out? Last time she told me you hid her special medication, I didn't believe her, but now..."

"I didn't!" I finally snapped, only to be cut off by my brother, Felix. He was carefully handing Veronica a glass of warm water, not even sparing me a glance. "You didn't hide it? Then how did Veronica's medicine end up on your vanity? Maybe we should just lock you in your room so you'll stop trying to hurt her."

I was stunned. Veronica had given me that medicine the night before, saying, "Clara, this makes me feel sick. Can you hold onto it for me?" She had been setting me up all along.

Sterling frowned, as if he wanted to say something, but Veronica suddenly started coughing violently. She covered her face and cried, "Sterling, am I too much trouble? If I were gone, everyone would have it so much easier, wouldn't they..."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sterling cut her off, then turned to me, his expression pleading. "Clara, let's just get the aspiration done for Veronica. We can talk about everything else later, okay?"

As the thick needle pierced my iliac bone, a sickening drain began, pulling the life from my body. My vision started to blur. The therapist frowned. "Mr. Prescott, Miss Clara's body is too weak. Any more could permanently damage her body's ability to produce blood cells."

Veronica immediately said, "It's okay, I'll use less. Don't hurt Clara..." But her hand secretly pressed on the therapist's arm, her voice a low hiss only they could hear. "Take more, or I'll just have to get 'injured' again soon."

I forced my eyes open and saw Sterling suddenly grab the therapist's hand, yanking the needle out. "That's enough. No more."

My mother shrieked, "Sterling! Have you lost your mind? Veronica is waiting for that marrow! Clara is just faking it—she’s perfectly fine!"

"I'm not faking..." My voice trembled, but no one believed me. Felix even stormed over and grabbed my arm. "Stop playing the victim. You're going for another round!"

When the clinic door opened, Veronica leaned "weakly" into Sterling's arms and looked at me. "Clara, I'm sorry, did I make you suffer? If you don't want to donate, I... I can hold on."

Those words were like fuel on a fire. My parents grew angrier, and even Sterling's expression clouded over. He probably thought I was bullying a sick person.

A mocking laugh escaped my lips. I gritted my teeth against the searing pain, straightened my clothes, and stood tall. I walked toward the exit. Outside, I stared at the brilliant engagement ring on my finger. I remembered what Sterling had said when he gave it to me: "Clara, when Veronica is a little better, I'll take you to that beach you love so much."

It turned out he remembered everything. He just didn't realize that Veronica would never "get better."

Without a second thought, I pulled the ring from my finger and tossed it into the nearest trash can.

In this life, I would never again be fooled by Veronica's tears, nor would I ever again hope for my family's love.

Since everyone loved Veronica and no one loved Clara, then I would just have to love myself.

Every time I underwent a bone marrow aspiration, it took me days to even get out of bed. This time was no different. But the house was eerily silent. Everyone had gone to the clinic to dote on Veronica, and no one had bothered to leave me so much as a glass of water.

I steadied myself against the wall and stumbled out of my room, hoping to find a piece of bread, when a cardboard box was suddenly hurled at my head. My body was still weak, and I couldn't dodge in time. The box struck my forehead, instantly drawing blood.

"Clara! What is wrong with you? We told you in the group chat at six this morning to bake Veronica's favorite cheesecake to celebrate her coming home! You couldn't even be bothered to reply?" My mother stood in the living room, hands planted on her hips. Behind her, Veronica was wrapped in a thick cashmere shawl, her face rosy, with no trace of illness.

Veronica immediately rushed over, reaching out as if to wipe the blood from my forehead but deliberately scratching the open wound with her fingernail. I flinched from the sharp pain. Her eyes instantly welled up as she turned to our mother. "Mom, don't be angry. Clara was probably just exhausted. Maybe she was sleeping and didn't see the message..."

"Sleeping?" Mother grew even angrier, pointing a trembling finger at me. "Are you doing this on purpose?"

I pulled out my phone, only to find a black screen. I’d plugged it in to charge last night, but now it was dead. I didn't have to guess who had unplugged my charger while I was asleep. She wanted my parents to think I was ignoring them on purpose.

"I didn't see the message. My phone died," I said, rubbing my aching forehead, my voice hoarse.

"Died?" Felix strode in from outside, holding my phone, its screen brightly lit. Veronica had obviously just slipped it to him. "It looks fully charged to me. Clara, can you stop making excuses? Veronica coming home is a big deal. Can't you be a little more considerate?"

Veronica tugged on Felix's sleeve. "Felix, don't scold Clara," she said softly. "I didn't really want cake that much. Clara is passionate about her design work. I bet she was up all night sketching and completely forgot to check her phone..."

"Design?" Felix sneered, his gaze sweeping over my bedroom door. The fashion design sketches I’d been working on the previous night were now torn to shreds and splattered with paint. "What's the use of that garbage? Last time, Veronica told me you didn't have a collection inspired by her and that you 'didn't want to be around a burden.' Is this how you treat your own sister?"

I was stunned. Those sketches were meant to be a birthday gift for Sterling; he had once said he wanted to see clothes I had designed myself. I had hidden them in a drawer last night, but now they were destroyed. It had to have been Veronica.

"I never said that! She's lying!" I finally raised my voice.

Mother rushed over, jabbing a finger at my forehead. "How dare you talk back? Veronica is so kind. Would she lie? Look at you—all you do is mope in your room all day, drawing or staring into space, never caring about your sister! How did we raise such an ungrateful child?"

Just then, Sterling walked in. Seeing the wound on my forehead, he frowned and strode over as if to touch it, but Veronica intercepted him, grabbing his hand.

"Sterling, don't worry. Clara just bumped her head." Veronica looked up at him, her eyes full of dependence. "I was just telling Clara I wanted her to walk with me in the garden, but she didn't seem very willing... Was I bothering her?"

Sterling faltered. He turned to me, a hint of helplessness in his voice. "Clara, Veronica just got out of the hospital. She wants you to take a walk with her. Just go, okay? She's weak and needs someone to look after her."

I saw the unwavering trust in his eyes, and a cold dread washed over me. He had seen the gash on my forehead and my pale face, yet he still believed Veronica's story without question.

"I'm not going." I stepped back, avoiding his outstretched hand. "I don't feel well. I need to rest."

"What's wrong with you?" Mother snapped. "Veronica is much weaker than you, and she hasn't said a word about not feeling well! Clara, I'm telling you, you are going today, whether you like it or not. Otherwise, you can forget about dinner!"

Veronica shot me a glance, a barely perceptible smirk on her lips. She knew that as long as she played the victim, everyone would take her side.

Looking at the family before me, the sheer absurdity of it all washed over me. Even if Sterling had moments of concern for me, he was always, always blinded by Veronica's performance.

"Fine, I'll go." I took a deep breath and turned back to my room for a jacket. At the doorway, I heard Sterling ask Veronica softly, "Did you bump into her? The wound on her forehead looks painful."

Veronica's eyes immediately reddened, her voice choking with sobs. "Sterling, I didn't! I was just trying to help Clara pick up a cup, and she tripped and fell... It's all my fault. If only I hadn't touched that cup."

My steps faltered, the last shred of hope in my heart crumbling to dust. So he had his suspicions, but Veronica's tears would always matter more than my pain.

In my jacket pocket was the copy of the island purchase contract I had secretly made yesterday. It was my only way out. In two more days, I could finally escape this suffocating home.

In my past life, Veronica used this same excuse to postpone our engagement party year after year.

As long as she didn't agree, Sterling would never hold the party with me—he was utterly bound by her tears.

Thinking of this, I gave a sardonic smile and unconsciously rubbed an old, faint scar on my palm, a mark left by a thief who had cut me while I was protecting my design sketches.

"Of course. Whatever is most convenient for her."

What was there to object to? It wasn't as if Sterling and I would have ever actually had our engagement party anyway.

I put down my knife and fork. "I'm not hungry anymore," I said. As I turned to go upstairs, I caught Veronica shooting Sterling a triumphant smirk. She had won again, using her supposed frailty to steal the ceremony that should have been mine.

Seeing my rigid posture as I walked away, Sterling’s hand, holding his fork, froze mid-air.

For the first time, he sensed something was different. The old Clara would have asked, her eyes filling with tears, "Why is it being postponed again?" But this Clara was so calm, as if we were discussing someone else's business.

He wanted to call out to me, but Veronica suddenly clutched her chest and started coughing. "Sterling, I feel a little dizzy..."

His attention was immediately diverted. He reached out to feel her forehead, completely missing the fact that I had paused at the top of the stairs, watching.

Over the next few days, with the engagement party indefinitely postponed, Sterling indeed had plenty of time to travel with Veronica.

The night before they left, Veronica knocked on my door, holding a thick coat. "Clara, Sterling, Dad, Mom, and I are going skiing in Aspen. You just had a bone marrow aspiration, so your body is weak. You shouldn't come suffer in the cold."

As she spoke, she deliberately ran her fingernail over the fresh needle mark on my wrist from the last procedure. I saw the undisguised triumph in her eyes and suddenly remembered she had said the same thing in my past life, only to turn around and complain to our family, "Clara said Aspen is boring and refused to go with me."

Sure enough, when they left the next day, my mother looked at me with feigned concern. "Clara, if you're not feeling well, just rest at home. When you're better, we'll all go together."

I was left at home once again.

To "share" their trip with me, Veronica sent photos from every stop. In one, she wore a custom ski suit from Sterling, posing on a snowy peak while our family snapped pictures of her. In another, she was in a luxury hotel, hugging a giant teddy bear from Felix, a champagne tower from our parents glittering in the background.

"Clara, it's such a shame you didn't come! Sterling built me a huge snowman, even taller than you!"

"Dad and Mom said the hot springs here are good for my health. They're planning to buy me a villa here so we can come often!"

"Oh, by the way, Clara, Sterling bought me a necklace that glows. Didn't you once say you wanted one? But Sterling said this style suits me better~"

Every word was a deliberate needle to the heart. I deleted the photos one by one, then turned off my phone and started packing. In a few more days, the island paperwork would be complete, and I would be free.

Just then, I heard the sound of breaking glass from downstairs. I froze, a scene from my past life flashing through my mind. It was around this time that a thief broke in, stole my mother's jewelry, and tore my design sketches to shreds. Back then, I had called for help, but no one answered—they were all at a party in Aspen with Veronica.

Instantly, alarm bells screamed in my head.

I quickly backed up my design sketches to the cloud, contacted a private security company, then grabbed a utility knife and hid behind the door.

Sure enough, a thief climbed through a window and made a beeline for my mother's jewelry box. I held my breath. The moment he turned, I lunged. But he easily shoved me aside; in my weakened state, I was no match for him.

His knife slashed my arm, the pain making me break out in a cold sweat, but I bit down hard on his wrist, preventing him from getting near my bedroom.

Fortunately, the security guards arrived just in time and subdued the thief. In the struggle, I tumbled down the stairs, my head slamming against a step. Blood streamed down my face.

When my family and Sterling rushed back, all they saw were the security guards leaving and me sitting pathetically amidst the mess, the wound on my arm still bleeding.

My father and mother were stunned. "You... you caught him by yourself? Why didn't you call us?"

Veronica immediately threw herself into our mother's arms, crying, "Mom, it's all my fault! I was on a video call with everyone, saying Clara would be perfectly safe at home. If I had known, I wouldn't have stayed out playing for so long..." As she spoke, she shot our mother a look—see, it's all Clara's own stubbornness, nothing to do with us.

My mother's brow furrowed predictably, her tone laced with blame. "Exactly! Why would you do something so dangerous instead of waiting for us?"

Even the usually aloof Felix had a conflicted expression. "What kind of hero are you trying to be? Last time, Veronica said you were afraid of a kitten. How did you find the courage to fight a thief?"

I was too exhausted to speak, my hand still trembling as I clutched the utility knife. Sterling suddenly knelt, reaching out to touch my forehead, but I flinched away. His fingertips froze, his eyes filled with a raw panic. "Clara, how are you? Where are you hurt? I'll take you to the hospital!"

"You fool! Why didn't you call us?" His voice held a trace of self-blame. Earlier, Veronica had insisted, "Clara is probably sleeping, don't disturb her," so he hadn't called.

I looked at him weakly. "What good would it have done? Would you really have rushed back for me?"

Everyone's expression changed. Veronica immediately said, "Clara, how can you say that? We rushed back as soon as we heard! Sterling was even speeding!" She deliberately mentioned his "urgency," but conveniently forgot they had stopped to buy her souvenirs on the way.

I laughed mockingly. In my past life, it was because I believed they would come back that I called them, one by one, only to be tortured half to death by that thief.

Seeing my unusual calm, Sterling's frown deepened.

He noticed a design portfolio peeking out from my bedroom doorway and was about to ask something, but Felix pointed at the suitcase on the floor and yelled, "You've packed all this stuff—where the hell are you planning to go?!"