1 In my past life, I ruined my family. My billionaire parents, bankrupt and broken, threw themselves from the roof of their skyscraper. My CEO brother was framed and jailed. My sister took her own life. Reborn, all they wanted was revenge. My brother's eyes were dark with malice. “This time,” he vowed, “we’ll make her wish she were never born.” The next second, he heard my innermost thoughts. [My brother is so handsome, like a prince from a fairy tale! I have a fruit candy in my pocket. I want to give it to him. I wonder if he'd like it?] My brother froze. My sister offered a smile that was pure ice. “Little monsters are always good at pretending. Once we get her home, the truth will come out.” But I just gazed at my sister with pure adoration, clapping my tiny hands. [When sister dances, her skirt flies up like a fairy’s wings! I love it!] The family stared at my three-year-old self, a heavy silence falling over them. [Wait, was she really this cute as a child?] [How are we supposed to get revenge on… this?] … When the fabulously wealthy Vance family came to the orphanage, their eyes were all fixed on me, sharp and unyielding. I shrank back, my small hands twisting the hem of my worn-out dress. [Are these my long-lost family? They’re all so beautiful. I’m so happy!] [But… why do they look so angry? Is it because I don’t look like them?] My father gave me a single, cold glance. “Take her.” The orphanage director, Mama Ellen, beamed, her rough hand pulling me from the bench with a sense of urgency. “Nora, darling, quickly now! Go with your mommy and daddy! Your good life is just beginning!” I stumbled forward, dazed and confused. My mother flinched back half a step, as if I were carrying some deadly plague. My brother’s brow furrowed even deeper, the disgust in his eyes practically spilling over. Only my sister, Monica, extended a hand to me, her lips curved into a perfect, practiced smile. “Come now, little sister. Let’s go home.” Home? Hesitantly, I reached out with my own grimy little hand. [Am I finally going to have a home of my own? Sister’s hand is so white and clean. My hand is so dirty… will I get her dirty?] [But I’m so, so happy!] The very instant my fingertips were about to brush against hers… CRACK! The dim, yellow bulb overhead exploded without warning! A shower of fine glass rained down. “Ah!” my sister shrieked, snatching her hand back, her face draining of color. My father reacted instantly, pulling my mother and sister behind him as his sharp gaze locked onto me like a weapon. My brother, Liam, stepped forward, physically shielding them from me. “Hah! After all that nonsense you were just thinking, I almost believed you’d changed. But you’re the same as you were in our last life—a curse that exists only to harm us!” I stared at him, bewildered, my hands clutching my dress. “Brother,” I whispered, “I… I didn’t say anything.” All four of them looked at me, their faces a mask of stunned disbelief. “It’s my fault! That old light should have been replaced ages ago,” Mama Ellen explained frantically, pulling me close to check for injuries. “Nora, are you hurt?” A shard of glass had nicked my ankle. It stung. But I just stood there, frozen, staring at their guarded, hostile expressions. It felt like a piece of that glass had lodged itself in my chest, a dull, aching pain. [The light broke?] I thought, my mind a blank. [Was it because I reached for my sister?] [I’ve always been unlucky. Are they going to hate me because of this?] 2 A wave of overwhelming despair crashed over my tiny body. I thought, just like all the other times, my bad luck would get me abandoned again. But they still took me to the car. They still took me home. My brother, Liam, sat in the front passenger seat. He shot me a cold look through the rearview mirror. I flinched and immediately looked down, my fingers twisting the rough fabric of my dress. [Is brother looking at me?] [Does he think I’m dirty? Does he hate me?] “Yes, she is annoying,” Liam muttered under his breath. I looked up, confused, but he was already staring out the window, as if he hadn’t spoken at all. When we arrived at the house—no, the mansion—my eyes went wide, my mouth falling open slightly. [Wow.] [It’s just like the castle in a princess storybook!] The car glided to a stop under the grand portico of the main house. The driver quickly got out and opened the door. My father stepped out first, followed by my mother. Liam vaulted out gracefully, turning to help our sister. And that’s when it happened. As my sister, Monica, was getting out, the delicate satin ribbon on her shoe somehow snagged on a small, barely visible hook under the door, a hook meant to secure the floor mat. “Oh!” she cried out as her balance gave way, and she pitched forward. “Monica!” my mother screamed, her voice thin with terror. Liam moved like lightning, lunging forward and grabbing her arm just before her face could smash against the hard marble steps. Even so, the shock of the fall left Monica pale and trembling. She collapsed against her brother, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “What happened?!” my father, Marcus Vance, demanded, his voice sharp. The driver, sweating profusely, knelt to inspect the car. “Sir! It’s this hook for the mat. It’s never exposed like this! I don’t know how…” Inevitably, everyone’s gaze fell on me as I was the last one to get out of the car. I stood frozen, my heart pounding with fear. [Why is sister crying? Seeing her cry makes me so sad. But why is everyone looking at me? Did I make her fall?] My father’s heavy gaze rested on me for a few seconds. “Forget it. Let’s go inside. Mr. Kingston, take her to her room.” The butler stepped forward. “This way, little miss.” I was given a room at the far end of the third-floor corridor. It was large and beautifully furnished, with a soft white rug, a corner piled high with stuffed animals, and a large bay window overlooking the garden. But it was too empty, too quiet, and too far away. A long, silent hallway separated me from my parents’ master suite, from my brother’s and sister’s rooms. Mr. Kingston’s voice was polite but distant. “Little miss, this will be your room. The washroom is over there. Someone will call you for meals. You are not to wander the house without permission, and you are especially not to disturb Mr. and Mrs. Vance, or the young master and miss.” He then exited, closing the door softly behind him. Click. The sound echoed in the silence. It felt like I was the only person left in the world. [Don’t wander… don’t disturb them…] [Is it because… if I get close to them, I’ll bring them bad luck?] Used to being bullied at the orphanage, I buried my face in the thick duvet and began to cry, muffling the sobs. I scrubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand, but the tears just kept coming. No! Stop crying! Crying doesn’t help. It only makes people hate you more. I sniffled, forcing the tears back. 3 My gaze fell on the small bag I’d brought from the orphanage. I went over and opened it. Inside, aside from a few old clothes, was a dented plastic water bottle with a little yellow duck printed on it. I picked it up and hugged it to my chest. It was a gift from a kind older girl at the orphanage—my only possession. [Mama Ellen said drinking warm water is good for you. Daddy was coughing the whole way here in the car…] There was still some warm water left in my bottle. This tiny, fledgling desire to do something, anything, for him temporarily overshadowed my fear and sorrow. Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I clutched my little yellow duck bottle and carefully turned the doorknob. The hallway was carpeted, and my footsteps made no sound. Holding my breath, I tiptoed towards what I hoped was the master bedroom. My heart pounded like a drum. Finally, I reached the door. It was slightly ajar, a warm light spilling out from within, along with the murmur of voices. “It’s too bizarre! I swear I heard her talking, but I watched her mouth, and it didn’t move. Are we... are we hearing her thoughts?” That was Liam’s voice, full of disbelief. Monica’s voice was calm. “And what if we are? You, of all people, should know what she’s really like.” My mother, Isabelle, agreed. “I’m telling you, she’s playing games. It’s just another one of her demonic little tricks!” [Who are they talking about? Is it some super-duper evil villain?] I raised a tiny, indignant fist. Then I heard my father cough again. Wiping my sweaty palms on my pants, I gently pushed the door open a little wider and peeked inside. The whole family was sitting there, a united front. Liam looked up and saw me, a smirk twisting his lips. “Well, speak of the devil.” I offered him a sweet smile. [My brother is so handsome, just like a prince in a fairy tale! I’m so lucky to have such a handsome brother. Everyone must be so jealous of me!] Liam, hearing my praise, looked flustered for a second. I turned my attention to my father. He was looking at a document, his expression grim, and he let out another small cough. My fear forgotten, I clutched my little bottle like a treasure and scurried towards him on my short legs. “Daddy! Water! It’s warm!” I shouted, trying my best to lift the bottle up to him. But in my haste, my foot caught on the edge of the plush rug. “Whoa!” I yelped as the little yellow duck bottle flew from my hands. CRASH! The water splashed directly onto the important-looking documents in front of my father. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, his eyes like chips of ice. “It’s warm water,” I whimpered, my voice trembling. “For Daddy to drink…” “For me to drink?” His gaze turned lethal. He shot up from his chair, snatching the bottle away from me with a look of utter disgust. “Who knows what kind of filth you put in this!” “Didn't manage to poison us in the last life, so you’re trying a new method this time? Why? Why, after being given a second chance, are you still so wicked!” Tears streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable. [There’s no filth… it’s clean, warm water. Mama Ellen said warm water helps a cough. I don’t want Daddy to cough. My bottle is clean…] My father’s hand, which had been raised as if to strike me, froze in mid-air. He stared at my tear-streaked face, at eyes that held nothing but hurt and confusion, not a hint of malice or calculation. Finally, with a deep, frustrated sigh, he lowered his hand. He didn't hit me. But somehow, I felt he was even angrier than before. 4 A few days later, the family had guests coming over. My mother had laid out a breathtakingly beautiful dress, covered in shimmering sequins. [Mommy would look like a fairy princess in that dress!] [Oh! One of the little stars is dusty! It’s not shiny anymore!] My sharp eyes spotted a single sequin near the hem that had a speck of dust on it. Mama Ellen had always said that beautiful things must be cherished; they weren’t beautiful anymore if they were dirty. I felt my pocket. Inside was my small handkerchief, washed so many times it was pale, but it was clean. I took a deep breath. The moment my mother left the room to choose her accessories, I scurried over, knelt down, and began to gently wipe the dusty sequin with my handkerchief. “What are you doing!” “My dress! What are you doing to my dress!” My mother’s voice was shrill with fury. “I knew it! Are you trying to ruin my dress on purpose?” The shock sent me tumbling backward onto the floor, the little handkerchief falling from my grasp. My mother was trembling with rage, about to scream for the staff to drag me away and lock me in my room. [No, I was just trying to wipe the sequin clean for Mommy. The handkerchief is clean, Mama Ellen washed it for me…] She stared down in disbelief at the tiny, terrified child cowering on the floor. Then she looked at the hem of her dress where I had wiped it. The dust was gone. And the little handkerchief, though old, was indeed spotless. A wave of profound absurdity washed over my mother. She opened her mouth to say something scathing, but in the end, all that came out was a frustrated sigh. “Just stay away from my things!” After the incidents in the study and the dressing room, the atmosphere in the house shifted. The four of them would sometimes gather in hushed tones, discussing things I didn’t understand, using words like “inner voice,” “coincidence,” and “her act is too convincing.” Eventually, they reached an unspoken agreement: as long as the little jinx stayed in her lane and didn’t cause trouble, they could coexist peacefully. The notice for my siblings’ school trip to the amusement park was stuck to the refrigerator. It was a colorful flyer with a huge Ferris wheel and a carousel. Every time I passed it, I would stop, my feet seemingly nailed to the floor, and stare at it with a secret, greedy longing. [An amusement park! So many colorful houses! And horses that go round and round! And big balloons that float in the sky!] [I wish I could go! Just once…] My mother, Isabelle, happened to catch my expression. The look in my eyes—a pure, timid yearning—pricked her like a tiny needle. “Ahem.” She cleared her throat. Her tone was still cold, but her words took an unexpected turn. “Well, since you’re living here now… Monica, Liam, take her with you tomorrow. It’ll keep her from causing trouble around the house.”
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