Chapter 2

A cold, inward smirk was all I could muster.

Too spineless to show his own sister basic kindness in front of his darling cousin—what a pitiful man.

My fingers, however, flew across the screen: [I want the Bugatti.]

That hypercar cost over five million after taxes, was one of five in the country, and was worth more than any antique necklace.

It was my brother's crown jewel. He frowned, hesitated for a long moment, then finally gritted his teeth.

[Fine.]

As we were texting, the university's leadership arrived.

The dean took one look at the glaringly out-of-place funeral wreath.

"What is the meaning of this?"

One by one, eyes turned to me. I calmly met my cousin's gaze.

The dean didn't wait for an explanation. He motioned for campus security to remove both the wreath and my cousin from the event.

"Completely inappropriate!"

Watching several officers escort her out, my brother and father panicked.

"Audrey, go talk to the dean!" my brother shouted. "Cathy didn't mean anything by it! She's just from a different world—she doesn't understand!"

I wore a mask of regret, my face full of sympathy for my cousin.

But I didn't move an inch.

"Dad, this isn't back home in Tempas," I said calmly. "Here, I'm just another incoming graduate student—not the daughter of the state's wealthiest family."

The implication was clear: my hands were tied.

Hearing this, my brother shot me a furious glare.

"Then why did you insist on a school clear across the country? This place is practically uncivilized!"

I remained unmoved, watching the two of them hurry after my cousin's retreating figure. My heart didn't so much as flicker.

They were supposed to be my family. Yet in the end, the only things I could truly rely on were the share transfer agreement on my phone and the million and a half already in my account.

Over the next week, I used the money to get fully settled on campus and finally began living the life I should have had in my previous life.

Meanwhile, a cell phone video of my cousin being escorted out that day made its way online and gained some traction.

Furious, she bought a last-minute ticket and flew straight back to Tempas City.

Just like last time, she trashed my room.

Back then, it was because I'd slapped her down the stairs.

My brother and father had even stood by, telling her to toss all my things out of the family estate if it made her feel better.

The only photo album I had of my mother and me—she tore it to pieces, then took pictures and sent them to me as a final jab.

This time was no different.

I stared at the image of shredded photographs scattered on the floor and swallowed down the ache in my chest.

In my previous life, I'd booked the first flight home and confronted her violently.

My father had been in the middle of closing a major international merger. The scandal broke his focus, and he lost a deal worth billions.

When Grandmother found out, she declared she never wanted to see me again and had her security detail put me on a plane back to school.

With Grandmother's protection revoked, my brother quietly worked behind the scenes until I was expelled.

This time, I only sent a calm voice note.

"Be careful, Cathy. Don't cut yourself. Dad and Nick would be so worried."

Then I forwarded the chat history to the family group: [Cathy made it home safely. Dad, Nick, no need to keep searching for her.]

In my last life, it was my father who'd told her to wreck my room to blow off steam.

This time, she'd done it entirely on her own.

A faint, cold smile touched my lips as I put my phone away and walked into the research lab.

The next morning, I received a call from my father.

"Sweetheart…"

He rarely called me that. When he did, it meant something was very wrong.

"Cathy destroyed your room," he said, his voice rough. "She went after your mother's things, too. I'm sorry. This is my fault."

He offered to compensate me with another three percent of the family trust shares.

I let my voice break, struggling to get the words out.

"If she… if she wanted me gone, that would be one thing. But… those were the only things I had left of Mom."

"That will never happen!" My father's guilt was palpable. "You are my daughter. This is your home! Cathy just lost control. She's already facing the consequences!"

As he spoke, he sent me a photo.

In the dead of a cold snap, my cousin knelt on the stone floor of the family chapel in nothing but a thin sweater. Her cheeks were livid, the slap marks so harsh they'd broken the skin—the capillaries beneath likely shattered.

Grandmother had intervened. She despised nothing more than those who sowed discord in the family.

"I'm asking you, please—say a word to your grandmother for her," he pleaded. "Cathy has a weak constitution. She can't handle kneeling in this cold!"

So, after all that, it was still about Cathy.

With the tip of my finger, I brushed away the single tear tracing its way down my cheek.