Chapter 3

Besides running my stall, I spent hours every day parked in the library, nose to a book.

On the day of the SAT, Kelly slipped a heavy dose of laxatives into my coffee, and I missed half the exam.

She swaggered out of the exam hall and flashed me a mischievous smirk.

She sneered, "Did you really think I'd ever let you fly higher than me?"

I never achieved my dream of attending a prestigious university, and when my parents refused to let me continue school, even the chance to fight for my future was taken from me.

But in this life, everything was different.

No matter which school I ended up at, it would be my new beginning.

I'd never let myself fall behind. I grabbed every chance to learn more, quickly got accepted into a research group, and spent all my spare time brainstorming ways to grow my savings.

The cash I earned hustling at my street stall went straight into a used laptop. With the regulars I'd gathered, I set up an online shop—and outside of that, I pumped out articles and ran my own social media channel.

Meanwhile, Kelly ditched her studies and started streaming. With her pretty face and a decade of violin skills, she quickly racked up followers with her looks and violin chops.

But carving out one's own slice of fame as an influencer wasn't just about timing and opportunity—one needed serious luck, too.

Success came to Kelly fast, but instead of satisfying her, it only fueled an ever-growing appetite for all things luxury.

Her desk and closet soon overflowed with designer makeup, luxury skincare, flashy jewelry, and branded handbags.

Before long, her expenses outpaced her earnings. God had given her looks and talent, but unfortunately, she'd missed out on the brains.

She had loads of followers but hadn't figured out how to cash in. Instead, she spent her days fooling around with the leaderboard VIPs and sugar daddies.

There was no shortage of pretty girls on live-stream platforms, and hype came and went like a flash. But Kelly's thirst for luxury only grew stronger. She hadn't even reached the top before debt caught up and dragged her down.

Back in my previous life, Kelly could always take advantage of me by getting our parents involved. But in this lifetime, she was on her own.

By the time winter break rolled around, she was already drowning in debt.

She claimed she had too much schoolwork to come home for winter break this year.

On the video call, my parents were checking up on Kelly, making sure she was eating well and staying warm.

My mom said, "If you need cash, just talk to me. And if that isn't enough, Lily's still around to help, isn't she?"

Kelly put on an innocent, worried look, shaking her head. She said, "No, Lily keeps coming back way past midnight just to earn money. I'm really afraid she'll get mixed up in something bad."

My mom said, "That's so shameless, she'll do anything for cash. Kelly, don't you ever take after her. I'll transfer you one thousand later—just look after yourself."

Kelly nodded sweetly, and my parents' eyes practically sparkled with love for her.

After hanging up, Kelly arched her brow at me, looking all smug. She said, "So what if you won't give me money? All I have to do is ask, and Dad and Mom will give me anything I want."

I'd just nailed a big order and pocketed 6 thousand. I shot her a lazy glance. Then I got straight back to my own hustle, not bothered at all.

Kelly, sulking at being ignored, prettied herself up and headed out to have some fun.

Another week went by.

I was hustling in the warehouse, packing up orders, when my phone suddenly buzzed—my mom was calling.

She snapped, "Kelly's stuck in her dorm, sick and all alone, and nobody's there for her. Where the hell have you been?"

She didn't mince words—she barked at me to get Kelly to the hospital immediately, demanding to know what kind of lousy caretaker I was.

I hung up on her without a moment's hesitation.

My latest custom product was selling like crazy—I'd barely slept a wink these past few days. Exhausted, I stumbled back to the dorm at noon, only to find my parents waiting for me.

The moment my mom saw me, she stormed over and slapped me hard across the face.

Still not satisfied, she grabbed my collar and shoved me to the floor.

The place looked like a war zone—my desk, my bed, every single thing I owned had been dumped on the floor: my laptop, lamp, hard drive, and all the gear I used to shoot my products.

I rushed over, chest tight with anguish as I checked out the mess.

I stared up at them and demanded, "Who gave you permission to mess with my stuff?"

My mom crossed her arms and sneered, "Thankless little turncoat. You care more about all this crap than your own flesh and blood. It's my money, I can smash it if I want."

Dad frowned and muttered, "No, she never took any money from me."