"My parents were getting a divorce, and I, reborn in the middle of it all, was on the witness stand. I was here to testify that my mother had an affair. In my last life, she’d cried and begged to keep my brother and me. All it got us was a life of poverty, humiliation, and the sickness that finally consumed her. My mother and brother froze, their faces masks of disbelief. And I stood beside my father—my rich, ruthless, cold-blooded father. A small, cruel smile played on my lips as I lied through my teeth. “She had an affair. She should walk away with nothing.” This time, I chose not to be the poor man’s daughter. 01 I came back to life in a courtroom. I swallowed the hatred that was churning in my gut, a toxic bile. I let my eyes fall to the floor for a single, theatrical beat, then looked up, my voice clear and sharp, a shard of ice. “She was unfaithful during the marriage.” My words hung in the sterile air. “According to the statutes, that means she forfeits everything.” I raised a hand, my finger pointing directly at my mother, Laura. My lips curled into a sneer, my eyes glittering with a malice I didn't truly feel. “She doesn’t deserve to be my mother anymore.” The color drained from my mother’s face. She staggered, one hand flying to her chest as if my words were a physical blow. My brother, Ethan, stared at me, his eyes wide with shock. He couldn’t understand. I was his quiet, obedient little sister. How could I be this… heartless? I straightened my spine, my gaze sweeping coldly across the room before landing on the judge. “I want to live with my father,” I stated, my voice flat. My father, Richard Sterling, stood beside me, immaculate in a tailored suit, his expression unreadable. He watched the scene unfold like a spectator at a particularly satisfying play. He knew this was a performance, and he was my silent director. Ethan lost it. He lunged forward, his fingers digging into my arm. “Claire! Are you insane? That’s Mom!” he hissed, his voice cracking. “How could you—” I wrenched my arm away. “She betrayed Dad,” I said, my face a blank mask. “That means she’s not my mother anymore. I don’t have a mother who would do something so shameless.” My brother’s eyes were red, his hand raised as if to strike me, but it fell limply to his side. “What did he promise you, Claire? What did Richard Sterling give you to make you perjure yourself?” He turned, his voice ringing out, desperate. “Your Honor, the one who had the affair was—” “It was my mother,” I cut in, my voice so cold it could freeze fire. “I was never interested in cheap sentiment.” My father gave the judge a subtle, almost imperceptible nod. The gavel came down. The judgment was swift, final. Ethan was given no more chances to speak. My mother was ashen. My brother’s lips trembled. Disbelief was etched onto their faces. They couldn’t comprehend how I, the quiet one, the good one, could stand in a court of law and lie. I simply turned my head, my gaze calm and distant. I never looked back at them. 02 I walked down the courthouse steps, ignoring the shattered looks from my mother and brother behind me. My father shielded me from the flash of a reporter’s camera. A black town car waited at the curb, and a driver held the door open for me. Richard smiled, a low, satisfied sound in his chest. “Good girl, Claire. You’ve made your father proud.” I slid onto the plush leather seat. He took out his phone, typing out a quick message. In my peripheral vision, I saw him text his assistant. It was about the final wire transfer. The payment to the judge. The moment the engine purred to life, my heart plummeted. The memory of a rainy night from my past life flooded my senses. My mother bursting through the door, the hem of her dress soaked. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hands trembling as she held up a set of photographs. She confronted her husband. Demanded to know why. He grabbed her by the throat, his smile terrifying. “Who gave you permission to investigate me?” My mother’s eyes bulged. “Richard… we’re… married…” she choked out. He released her abruptly, only to backhand her across the face. The sound cracked like a whip. “You bitch. You’re nothing but a dog I keep on a leash,” he snarled. “What right do you have to question me?” I was frozen with terror. Ethan, my brave Ethan, threw himself in front of us, shielding my mother and me with his own body. He was seventeen, thin as a rail from a recent illness, but he stood tall. “You want to hit someone, Richard? Hit me,” he said, his chin held high. “Real tough man, beating up on a woman.” The slap that was meant for our mother landed on his cheek. He didn't flinch. “Filth, born from filth,” my father spat. “Worthless brat.” His fists and feet rained down on my brother. I screamed, throwing myself at my father’s legs. “Please, Daddy, don’t hit him… please…” He kicked me away and stormed out. “Laura, get ready for a divorce!” Ethan struggled to his knees, his face already swelling. But he forced a smile and stroked my hair. “It’s okay, Claire-bear. It doesn’t hurt.” He was lying. I could see the cold sweat beading on his forehead. In that life, Richard Sterling bought the judge. He left my mother penniless. She was broken by it, a ghost of her former self. Ethan dropped out of college to support us, working multiple jobs. The exhaustion killed him. A massive heart attack before he was twenty-five. My mother and I were on our way to the morgue to identify his body when a truck ran a red light. 03 I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to force the memories down. But seeing Richard’s face, it all came rushing back. In that life, when Ethan said he was dropping out, I’d begged him not to. I cried, telling him I would go to our father, I would get on my knees and beg for money to support Mom, to keep us both in school. “Don’t, Ethan, please don’t drop out. It’ll ruin your whole life,” I’d pleaded. He refused. He told me he was the man of the house now. That his job was to take care of us. He would handle the money. My mother did try to go to Richard once. His security threw her out. Ethan worked himself to the bone to put me through college. And it cost him his life. But now, Ethan was still alive. And I would burn the world to the ground before I let him walk that path again. … “Claire.” Richard’s voice from the front seat pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up and smiled, my voice sweet as sugar. “Yes, Dad?” He had his arm around his mistress, Jessica, who was sitting beside him. “You did very well today, Claire,” he said. “You need to understand something. In this world, your father is the only one who can protect you. Unlike your mother and brother, who don’t know what’s good for them.” Jessica snuggled against him, her voice a syrupy purr. I sat behind them, a perfect, shallow smile on my face. I’m back. And this time, I will save my mother and my brother. Even if I have to drown in filth to ensure they live in the light. 04 A month later, it was my birthday. A blizzard had swept through New York, blanketing the city in white. Outside, the wind howled. Inside my father’s Upper East Side townhouse, it was a world of champagne and empty laughter. A party full of soulless people in beautiful clothes. I had just blown out the candles on a ridiculously expensive cake when the doorbell rang. The housekeeper answered it. Jessica’s voice, sharp and mocking, cut through the noise. “Well, look what the storm blew in. A little beggar.” My heart seized. I turned. It was Ethan. His nose was red with cold, his shoulders dusted with snow. In his hand, he clutched a small box wrapped in old newspaper. Our eyes met, and he gave me a gentle, tired smile. “Claire. I came for your birthday.” Jessica let out an exaggerated gasp, then laughed. “Oh, it’s you, Ethan! For a second there, I didn’t recognize you!” She was draped in diamonds, playing the part of the lady of the manor. “It’s freezing out there! You must be chilled to the bone in that thin jacket. Come in, come in, warm up.” Ethan didn’t move. His gaze was fixed on me, his voice low and raspy. “Claire? Can you come outside for a minute?” The room behind me was bright and warm, the air thick with the scent of vanilla frosting. I was wearing a designer dress that felt like a costume. My father was holding court on the living room sofa, Jessica perched beside him. The housekeeper stood silently by the door. And behind my brother, there was only the swirling snow and the endless, dark night. 05 I stood on the snow-dusted steps, the wind biting at my cheeks. Ethan handed me the gift. His hands were raw, covered in chilblains. He tried to hide them in the sleeves of his worn coat. “Happy birthday, Claire.” His voice was soft. “I got you that bracelet you always wanted.” My fingers trembled as I took the small, square box. It was wrapped in newspaper, the corners damp from the snow. A Cartier Love bracelet. How many hours, how many miserable shifts, did he have to work to afford this? I couldn’t bear to think about it. He rubbed his hands together, his breath misting in the frigid air. “Claire… will you come home for a bit? Just to see her?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. “Mom baked a cake… and she made your favorite pasta.” Before I could answer, a cold laugh echoed from the doorway behind me. It was Richard. He leaned against the doorframe, swirling a glass of amber liquid. He just watched me. A chill ran down my spine. I knew he was waiting, testing me. I clutched the gift, my throat tight. Ethan was still waiting, his eyes filled with a fragile hope. I clenched my jaw. And then I put on the mask. The mask of a cold, calculating stranger. “You shouldn’t come here again,” I said, my voice dripping with condescension. “I’m Dad’s only daughter now. I don’t need poor relations showing up and causing trouble.” I took a breath. “I told you before. I don’t have a mother.” I looked him right in the eye. “Now get out of here.” The words left my mouth, and I could almost hear the sound of my own heart shattering. Ethan just stared, stunned. His lips parted, but no words came out. Finally, he lowered his head and let out a small, bitter laugh. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, turned, and walked away. He trudged back into the blizzard, his footprints deep and lonely in the fresh snow. The storm intensified, blurring his silhouette until he was gone. I stood there, frozen. Tears streamed down my face, hot against my cold skin, but I didn't make a sound. I dug my nails into my palms until they bled, just to feel something other than the gaping hole in my chest. Richard came up behind me and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Well done.” I said nothing. I just felt a coldness inside me that was far more brutal than the winter storm raging around us."
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