Beware Of Chicken 3

I was the broke scholarship kid, stuck sharing a room with Sherry, the spoiled heiress. From day one, she was all fake smiles and "let's be besties." She'd take me out for fancy meals. She even introduced me to Kenneth—her rich childhood buddy. It was fine—until Kenneth and I started dating. That's when the claws came out. One day, she "accidentally" dumped hot soup all over herself and claimed I'd done it on purpose. Then she demanded I pay her back. I gave her every cent I had, but it wasn't enough. Next, she accused me of stealing her wallet. The school bought it. I got written up, everyone turned on me, and Kenneth? He dumped me with, "You're just an ugly duckling trying to be a swan." I couldn't fight back. Humiliated, alone, and dragged through online hate, I dropped out. Then I let the river take me. And then—I woke up. Back to the moment Sherry introduced me to Kenneth.

I had a fever, so I boiled myself an egg. I didn’t expect my son to come home and call the police. “There’s a thief in our house,” he told them, dead serious. “She stole one of my eggs.” The officers thought it was a joke. Evan didn’t. “Ms. Blake gave me those eggs. They’re imported. She stole from me, so she should be arrested.” Then he looked at me like I was a stranger. “Mom’s just lazy. She’s pretending to be sick. No wonder Dad likes spending time with Ms. Blake.” I bit down hard to keep from crying. It didn’t help. To him, my silence was proof I was guilty. “Ms. Blake said people who do bad things always act pitiful,” he added coldly. When my husband got home, he didn’t even ask how I was. “You sit around all day and still say you’re sick? Sounds like you just have too much time to be dramatic. If you were half as thoughtful as Sophie, I wouldn’t be this exhausted.” I almost laughed. When I had a 102-degree fever, he said the clinic was too expensive. But when his secretary mentioned her villa felt a little cold, he signed a thirty-million-dollar contract without hesitation. He was never stingy. Just never with me. That was the moment I stopped caring. That night, I stared at the message my father had sent me. And made a decision. Tomorrow, I was going home, not as his wife, not as anyone’s mother, but as the heiress I had always been.

After the chairman announced my appointment as general manager, a barrage of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [The supporting female character slept with some old guy just to steal the female lead's big client. How shameless!] [Good thing our clever female lead already collected the evidence. Once she becomes department manager, she and the male lead can finally start their sweet life together!] [I can't wait to watch the female lead and the male lead build their empire together!] The so-called female lead, Cindy Carlton, stood there with tear-filled eyes. "Shannon, how could you steal my client?" I was so stunned by the floating comments that I didn't react right away, but she was already crying pitifully. "Even if you wanted the deal, you shouldn't have sold your body for it! If you'd talked to me properly, I would've given you the client!" The comment section popped up again. [Our female lead is way too kind!] Even my longtime boyfriend stepped forward to defend her. "Who knows how many men you have slept with over the years? This time, you have to give Cindy's deal back to her!" While everyone hurled insults at me, I helplessly pulled out photos of the thousands of cattle and sheep grazing across my family's massive ranch. "Is selling beef and lamb to clients illegal?"

My husband, Gabriel Buckner, and I had been married for three years. I'd gotten pregnant twice, but I'd lost both babies. It was all because of my in-laws' parrot that could talk. The first time I got pregnant and went to their house, the parrot stared at my belly and kept repeating, "Get rid of the baby! Get rid of the baby!" The second time, the same thing happened. It looked right at my stomach and said the same words. I thought it was just nonsense, but to my shock, my in-laws actually took the parrot seriously and forced me to end the pregnancy. I even showed them the prenatal checkup report from my doctor to prove that the baby was perfectly healthy and begged them not to do it. But they dragged me to the hospital anyway and made me have an abortion on the spot. When I got pregnant a third time, I wanted to be extra cautious. I went straight for an amniocentesis. The report confirmed the baby was healthy and even showed a 99.9% DNA match with Gabriel's. I thought everything would be fine this time. But as soon as the parrot saw me again, it repeated the same words—"Get rid of the baby." And just like before, the Buckners immediately tried to drag me to the hospital. I couldn't understand it. The baby was perfectly healthy, and the DNA report proved it was Gabriel's child. So why would they rather believe a parrot and insist that I get rid of the baby?

My wife, Anne Brighton, gives me a gray parrot. Every single day, it looks me in the eye and screeches, "Go to hell!" I send it to a parrot rehabilitation center, where they place it in a mirrored cage and play "I'm a good bird" on loop, three thousand times a day. Here's the thing—I've been reborn. In my past life, that parrot came into our home knowing only two phrases—"So ugly" and "Go to hell". At first, I believed it was merely mimicking what it had heard. But then my body began to fail. Sleep was the first to go. Every night, the same nightmare returned, and the same voice echoed through it, repeating those words over and over. "Go to hell." My appetite disappeared, and I wasted away until I was nothing but bones. In the end, my organs gave out. I didn't find out the truth until I was dying. The parrot I thought it was wasn't one at all. It was Ian Sawyer—my best friend, who had been dead for years, trapped inside that bird the whole time.

I had my meal and was about to leave my sister's restaurant, but the manager stopped me. "Sorry, sir, but you haven't paid your tab." I never saw this guy before. He probably had no idea who I was. Kindly, I explained, "Put it on your boss' tab. She knows what to do." The manager instead gave me a look of derision. "Sir, we're a 3-star Michelin restaurant. We do not put anyone's bill on another person's tab." He handed me an itemized bill. The guy had it ready and printed. I went through the list. The meal alone cost 75 grand. The 'dining utensil gleam maintenance fee' ran up to 45 hundred. There was also an exclusive air purifier fee, which would cost 75 hundred. And there was a 'VIP calm headspace service fee' that ran up to 15 grand. Those were the ones that stood out, but they were far from the last. I had no idea my sister was running an extortion gig. Mirthlessly, I laughed. "I'm your boss' brother. Tell her she's talking to me when she comes home." The manager did not let me go. "Just say you can't afford it. You're not the first one to try and claim you know Ms. Grayheim. I know leeches like you well enough." I texted my secretary. 'Tell my sister she either fires this guy, or I pull my funds out.'