Chapter 1
When the earthquake hit, we were trapped under the rubble. My father's adopted daughter, Joanna Foster, and I, Hannah Foster, both cried out to Dad for help.
An aftershock was coming, and there was only enough time to save one person.
Ever the mathematician, my dad, Richard Foster, calmly pulled two slips of paper from his pocket.
"You are both precious to me," he said. "To be fair, we'll draw lots to decide who lives and who stays. Whoever draws red lives; whoever draws white stays."
Trembling, I took a slip of paper and unfolded it. It was white.
Joanna sobbed as she unfolded hers. It was red.
Dad sighed, giving me a complicated look. "Hannah, it's fate," he said. "Don't blame me."
Then, without a moment's hesitation, he scooped Joanna up and rushed toward the exit.
Only after they were gone did I stare down at the paper I was still clutching in my sweaty hand.
In the faint glow of my phone, I flipped it over and saw a smudge of red ink on the back.
Both slips of paper had originally been red. But the moment Dad handed mine to me, he'd used a sleight of hand to swap it for a pre-prepared white one.
He wasn't trying to be fair. He just wanted an excuse to abandon me.
The concrete slab above me began to crack, sending dust raining down into the space around me.
I didn't cry. I simply laughed softly into the dark.
"System, are you still there?" I asked.
The electronic voice that had vanished five years ago responded instantly, sounding urgent.
[Yes, Hannah. Don't be afraid. The teleportation channel has been activated. This time, I'm really taking you home.
[Countdown: 3, 2, 1.]
*****
The moment the earthquake struck, the concrete slab came crashing down with a thunderous crash.
Joanna and I were trapped in a cramped triangular space, and a steel rod stabbed through my thigh.
My dad, Richard, was right outside the gap, his face full of panic.
The aftershock alarm blared urgently, and we only had a few precious minutes left for rescue.
The opening was so narrow that you could only pull one person out at a time.
"Dad, help me. My leg hurts so much," Joanna cried out.
Cold sweat poured down my face from the pain, but I struggled to reach out. "Dad, I'm here too. My leg's broken."
Richard's gaze wavered as he looked between us.
He was a famous mathematician, all about logic and fairness.
The next second, he pulled out two crumpled slips of paper from his pocket and spread them out in his hand.
"You are both precious to me," he said, his voice strangely calm. "To be fair, we'll draw lots to decide who lives and who stays. Whoever draws red lives; whoever draws white stays."
I froze. I was his own flesh and blood, and Joanna was adopted. Yet in a life-or-death moment like this, he was seriously talking about fairness.
Joanna cried out, tears streaming down her face, "Dad, I can't. I'm so scared."
Richard's expression was cold and hard. "Hurry up. There's no time left."
My hand trembled as I was the first to snatch one of the slips.
I opened it. It was white. My heart plummeted.
Joanna grabbed the other slip right after me, and when she unfolded it, she squealed with excitement, "It's red. Dad, I got the red one."
Richard let out a heavy sigh, his gaze full of mixed emotions as he looked at me.
"Hannah, this is fate. You have to accept the outcome, so don't blame me," he said.
With that, he didn't hesitate for a second. He scooped Joanna up and dashed for the exit, moving so fast it was like he was running away from something.
"Dad," I whispered. My outstretched hand hung frozen in the air.
As their figures disappeared into the rubble, the light faded away too.
Darkness closed in around me, and despair washed over me, drowning everything.
I gripped the sweat-soaked slip in my palm. Without really thinking, I turned on my phone's weak flashlight.
The beam hit the back of the paper. There was red ink seeping through.
Using the last bit of strength I had, I peeled back the top layer.
Underneath, a bright red circle stared back at me.
Both slips were red. The draw was just a sham. There was never any real fairness.
When he handed the paper to me, Richard used the cover of his palm to swap the original red slip with a white one he had pre-hidden in his sleeve.
It was a magic trick, a scheme he'd carefully planned just to ditch me.
He was terrified people would say he only saved the adopted daughter and abandoned his real one, tarnishing his image as a famous mathematician.
So he staged this whole let fate decide drama.
He let me die under the guise of bad luck, so he could still be seen as the righteous and impartial father.
The concrete slab above me gave a grating, nail-on-chalkboard crack.
Dust poured down, clouding my eyes.
I didn't cry. Instead, I let out a soft laugh into the endless darkness. "System, are you still there?"
The System's voice, gone for five years, instantly answered, urgent and full of desperation.
[I'm here, Hannah. Don't be scared. The portal's open now. This time, I'm really taking you home.
[Mission Conquer the Biased Family has failed. Detaching the Host's soul.
[Countdown, 3, 2, 1.]
The concrete slab crashed down, and everything went black in an instant.
In my final moment of consciousness, I glimpsed the family photo glowing on my phone screen.
In that picture, Richard was looking at Joanna with all the warmth in the world, while I lingered in the corner, like I never really belonged.
Now, I finally didn't have to squeeze myself into a family photo that was never meant for me.