Chapter 2

Ian immediately shot to his feet so forcefully that the chair he'd been sitting on overturned behind him.

"Cindy Sampson! I can't believe how selfish you are!"

He pointed his finger at me, trembling a little.

"I never said that I was unwilling to donate blood to Mindy, but everything should be done fairly! The rule we set up back then had been agreed upon by all of us. How could you just change it now, all because you wanted to?"

Mindy Sampson, my younger sister who'd been in her room, coughed slightly just then.

"Cindy… Ian… Please don't fight anymore…"

She shuffled out of the room, leaning against the doorframe with her face and lips all pale.

If I hadn't been reborn, I would probably still have been convinced by her current sight that she was indeed very sickly and ill.

Yet, after my death, my soul still lingered on earth for a while. I watched her remove her zombie-like foundation, apply some red lipstick to her lips, and celebrate happily with Ian halfway across the world with a few pops of champagne.

"It's all my fault… I shouldn't be dragging everyone down with me…"

Mindy's tears began to fall. "Don't force Ian anymore, Cindy. If it really isn't working… then I'll just give up on the treatment. I'll just die and go find Dad in the afterlife."

Mom's expression turned darker at the mention of Dad's name.

She immediately rushed up to me and raised her hand to slap me.

"You heartless wench! Your sister is dying, and you're still trying to make up excuses to delay her treatment?

"Have you already forgotten how your dad died last time? If it weren't because he was rushing home to celebrate your stupid birthday with you, he would never have gotten into that horrible accident!

"Isn't it bad enough that you got your own dad killed? You're going to watch Mindy die without helping her too? How could you be such a vile, vicious bitch?"

I raised my hand and grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her from actually hitting me.

Mom was taken aback. She seemed shocked that I, who had always been so docile toward her, had somehow learned to fight back and stand up for myself.

My voice was eerily calm. "Dad died because the other driver had been driving on the wrong side of the road. The traffic police had made it exceptionally clear in the report.

"You've also been using Dad's death to blackmail and threaten me into submission countless times for the past 20 years.

"My debit cards are in your hands. I bought a house and a car for the family. I even donated my blood and bone marrow to Mindy for five years."

I then flung her hand away and continued in an icy tone.

"But I'm not stupid. Ian Huffman, since you're so insistent on being fair, then let's be fair until the end."

I emptied the matchbox onto the table, and two sticks of matches fell out. One was long, and the other was short.

Ian's eyes doubled in size at once. How was that impossible?

He clearly remembered putting two short matchsticks inside the box. It wouldn't have mattered which stick I chose because they would both have been short!

I looked at the two matchsticks on the table and grinned.

"Shall we draw some lots?"

Ian glared at the two matchsticks on the table like he wanted to bore holes into them. Small beads of sweat began forming on his forehead.

Of course, he'd never dare to draw lots.

Actually, while shaking the matchbox in my hand earlier, I had hidden away one of the short matchsticks and replaced it with a long matchstick that I had prepared beforehand.

It was the oldest magic trick in the book. I learned the trick while in a hobby club in college, and I never thought that I would end up using it here.

Now, there was one long matchstick and one short matchstick in the box. However, he had no idea which was the long one and which was the short one.

If he drew the short one, then he was going to have to donate his bone marrow to Mindy. But he didn't want to do it! And most importantly, Mindy wasn't even sick in the first place!

"Go ahead. Draw it," I said, urging him. "Mindy's still waiting for you to save her life."

Ian immediately turned to her for help. Mindy just chewed on her lower lip as her eyes glimmered slightly.

Suddenly, Ian clutched at his stomach and let out a painful wail, his face scrunching into one of absolute pain.

"Ow, shit…"

He folded over, looking absolutely miserable. "I can't… I just… I have a terrible stomach cramp… It hurts too much…"

Mom immediately got anxious and held him up.

"How could you get a stomach cramp at such a crucial moment? Quick, sit down and rest for a bit!"

She then turned around to glare at me. "See what you've done to Ian! He's suffering from cramps after overworking himself, taking care of you for so many years!

"We're not drawing any lots today. Ian is not feeling well. That means you're still going to be the one giving blood this week!"