Chapter 2 · Hard To Kill

Chapter 2

I was already slipping into unconsciousness when I saw an elegant woman, looking like a socialite, running toward me in tears. "I'm sorry, Mom's late."

It was a voice I'd never heard before, yet it was strangely comforting.

I drifted into a long dream, and at the end, there was only emptiness.

A sharp voice snapped me out of my dream.

"If you bring her back, I'm gonna jump," the girl screamed.

I opened my eyes to see a stylishly dressed girl slam a designer shopping bag onto the floor, yelling furiously at a middle-aged couple.

The elegant woman was about to snap, but when she looked up and saw me awake, her face brightened with surprise. She hurried over, watching me carefully and asked, "You're awake? Is anything feeling off?"

She gave off a faint orange glow.

Over the years, I'd learned what the colors I saw meant.

Orange was guilt and apology.

Seeing me stay quiet, she assumed I was being defensive. She took out a DNA test report from her bag and said, "We're your real parents. The nurse mixed up the babies back then. We only found out the truth a month ago. I'm sorry it took us so long to come for you."

The energy around her shifted from orange to gray.

She was lying about that last part.

All my happiness instantly turned into a cold chill in my heart.

The stylish girl suddenly snapped, throwing herself toward the window, half her body hanging outside as if she was ready to jump.

"Naomi, what are you doing?" the guy at the door yelled.

He was still standing in the doorway, but when he saw her, he panicked, trying to coax her back inside.

Naomi was crying like her world was ending, but she refused to move.

I glanced out the window, threw off the covers, and strode over.

With Naomi staring at me in shock, I climbed up onto the windowsill and jumped.

The elegant woman screamed and rushed to the window.

I landed smoothly, not a scratch on me.

It was only the second floor. No way I'd get hurt.

Looking at the four people by the window, I smirked. "I'm not playing your swapped daughter drama. If you really want to make it up to me, just send the money straight to my bank account."

With that, I turned and walked away.

From behind me, the guy spoke up, sounding pissed. "You hear that? All she cares about is money. She couldn't care less about her real parents. Naomi knew it, that's why she never told you where she was hiding—she just didn't want you to feel bad..."

He was obviously saying it for my benefit, not even bothering to keep his voice down.

I paused, anger bubbling up inside. I had no clue why he was trashing me, but judging by the vibe around him, he was just a total moron.

Arguing with a moron was a waste of time.

Thinking that, I took a deep breath and kept walking.

After a few days, my bank account was still empty—no deposit, no transfer, nothing. Obviously, they couldn't even be bothered to make it up to me with some cash.

I picked up a part-time job as a server at a fancy hotel, just to make ends meet.

The day the SAT scores dropped, I was still on shift at the hotel.

My homeroom teacher got the results before I did, and he was so hyped he nearly shouted through the phone. "Third place in the whole city! Thirty points higher than your last mock exam. Congrats, you totally crushed the Ivy League cutoff!"

My head was spinning. All I could think was, "The tough times are finally over."

My phone wasn't exactly quiet, so the manager nearby overheard my teacher and got super excited. He shouted, "Third in the city? Future Ivy League student? I'm definitely going to ask the boss to get you a bonus!"

His loud voice drew the attention of the VIP guests. When they heard a part- time worker had made it into the Ivy League, they asked the manager to have me bring them a fruit platter.

Chapter 2

I was already slipping into unconsciousness when I saw an elegant woman, looking like a socialite, running toward me in tears. "I'm sorry, Mom's late."

It was a voice I'd never heard before, yet it was strangely comforting.

I drifted into a long dream, and at the end, there was only emptiness.

A sharp voice snapped me out of my dream.

"If you bring her back, I'm gonna jump," the girl screamed.

I opened my eyes to see a stylishly dressed girl slam a designer shopping bag onto the floor, yelling furiously at a middle-aged couple.

She gave off a faint orange glow.

Over the years, I'd learned what the colors I saw meant.

Orange was guilt and apology.

The energy around her shifted from orange to gray.

She was lying about that last part.

All my happiness instantly turned into a cold chill in my heart.

The stylish girl suddenly snapped, throwing herself toward the window, half her body hanging outside as if she was ready to jump.

"Naomi, what are you doing?" the guy at the door yelled.

He was still standing in the doorway, but when he saw her, he panicked, trying to coax her back inside.

Naomi was crying like her world was ending, but she refused to move.

I glanced out the window, threw off the covers, and strode over.

With Naomi staring at me in shock, I climbed up onto the windowsill and jumped.

The elegant woman screamed and rushed to the window.

I landed smoothly, not a scratch on me.

It was only the second floor. No way I'd get hurt.

Looking at the four people by the window, I smirked. "I'm not playing your swapped daughter drama. If you really want to make it up to me, just send the money straight to my bank account."

With that, I turned and walked away.

He was obviously saying it for my benefit, not even bothering to keep his voice down.

I paused, anger bubbling up inside. I had no clue why he was trashing me, but judging by the vibe around him, he was just a total moron.

Arguing with a moron was a waste of time.

Thinking that, I took a deep breath and kept walking.

After a few days, my bank account was still empty—no deposit, no transfer, nothing. Obviously, they couldn't even be bothered to make it up to me with some cash.

I picked up a part-time job as a server at a fancy hotel, just to make ends meet.

The day the SAT scores dropped, I was still on shift at the hotel.

My head was spinning. All I could think was, "The tough times are finally over."

His loud voice drew the attention of the VIP guests. When they heard a part- time worker had made it into the Ivy League, they asked the manager to have me bring them a fruit platter.