Chapter 2

Three days later, at the Shaw residence, my father, Richard Shaw, was furious. "Vivian, you're being so unreasonable!"

He slammed his hand on the table. "What's wrong with Charles? His family, looks, and abilities—none of them fall short for you. You turned him down in front of everyone. How are we supposed to show our faces after that?"

I took my time cutting my steak. "He's too good for me. I'm not worthy of him."

"You!" Richard was at a loss for words.

"Alright, alright," my stepmother, Grace Shaw, jumped in to smooth things over. "Vivian's always had her own opinions since she was a kid. Maybe she's getting cold feet. Charles likes her so much, he won't mind."

I looked up at her. Grace was Isabelle's real mother. In my old life, she cried her eyes out at my funeral, then turned around and helped Isabelle move right into the room that was supposed to be mine.

"Isabelle's coming back tonight," Richard said, his tone softening. "You two haven't seen each other in years. Catch up. Charles will be there too. Apologize to him, and maybe we can still salvage the engagement."

I smiled. "Sure."

The dinner kicked off at seven. I picked a red dress to stand out against Isabelle's favorite, white.

In my old life, I was such a fool, always copying her style, thinking that if I wore white too, maybe Dad would finally notice me.

Now I got it that Isabelle was the shining star everyone adores, and I was a tiny blot, barely worth a glance. Why set myself up for disappointment?

"Ms. Vivian Shaw, Ms. Isabelle Shaw has arrived," a servant announced.

I turned and saw Isabelle walk in. We looked exactly alike—big eyes, rosy lips, even the same height. But she carried a soft, graceful aura, like a greenhouse flower.

Years of illness had left me pale, making me seem cold and harsh in comparison.

"Vivian!" Isabelle threw her arms open wide. "I missed you like crazy."

I leaned away from her hug. "Isabelle, your perfume is so strong. My heart can't take it."

She stood there, eyes welling up. "Sorry, I forgot you're not feeling well."

"Isabelle just got back. Why the attitude?" Richard snapped.

I sat down, swirling my wine glass. "Dad, I look upset because I have a headache. Do you know what's causing it? Because I saw the necklace Isabelle's wearing is exactly the same as the heirloom Mom left behind."

Isabelle instinctively reached for her neck. The necklace was jade, gleaming and perfect. It was a token passed down to every wife married to the heir of the Shaw family.

"Dad gave it to me..." Isabelle said, her voice shaky.

"Mom told me before she passed that this necklace was meant for her future granddaughter," I smiled. "Isabelle, are you carrying a Rivers?"

The room went dead silent.

Isabelle's face went pale as a sheet. Charles walked in just in time to catch my words, and the gift box in his hand smacked onto the floor.

"Vivian, are you out of your mind?" Charles stormed over. "Isabelle is your sister!"

"I know she's my sister," I cocked my head. "I also know she had an abortion overseas last week. The baby's father? He's a total gambler. Want me to read out your medical records, Isabelle?"

Isabelle screamed and fainted.

The scene was pure chaos. Grace was crying her eyes out, Richard was dialing for an ambulance, and Charles was holding Isabelle, giving me a look like I was some kind of freak.

"You investigated her?" Charles demanded.

"I investigated all of you," I leaned in, lowering my voice. "Charles, you really think I don't know?

"Isabelle owes the loan sharks 9 million, and the interest keeps snowballing. You plan to marry me and use my shares to cover her debts. What a heartwarming love story."

His eyes narrowed in shock. "You—"

"What? How could I possibly know?" I smiled, stepping back. "Because I died once. In another world, you all drained me completely and watched me die."

The ambulance arrived, and Isabelle was rushed off. The dinner ended on a sour note, and I sat alone in the garden, gazing at the moon above.

This was the exact place where, in my old life, I first overheard Charles and Isabelle. I had been diagnosed with heart disease, and while I was crying in the flowerbeds, I caught them scheming about how to split my inheritance.

"Poor Vivian," Isabelle said. "We ought to treat her better."

"Relax. I'll make sure she doesn't suffer," Charles replied.

The moonlight was ghostly pale, sending a chill down my spine. I heard footsteps behind me. I thought it was Charles, but when I turned around, it was a stranger.

He wore a black coat, sharp features, and a teardrop-shaped mole at the corner of his left eye.

As he got close, I recognized him. He was Edward Grant, Charles's uncle, the real boss behind Rivers Group. In my old life, I only saw him once, at my funeral. He stood at the back of the crowd, staring at my photo for ages.

"Ms. Shaw," he said, handing me a coat. "It's chilly tonight."

"Do you know me, Mr. Grant?" I asked.

"No," he replied, "but I knew your mother."

I froze. My mother died when I was five, and my memories of her were nothing but a blur, like a shadow in my mind.

"She saved my life," Edward said as he sat down next to me. "It was twenty years ago, during a fire. She asked me, if I ever got the chance, to take care of her daughter."

"So?" I asked.

"So I'm here to make good on my promise," he said, turning to me, his gaze deep and impossible to read. "Vivian, do you want revenge?"