Chapter 1
When I fell from the third floor, I heard the sound of my bones breaking.
When I woke up, it was already seven days later.
Steel pins had been drilled through my body. Even breathing felt like something that had to be done in fragments.
A nurse told me, "Your... your stepmother came once. She signed the surgical consent form."
I gave a faint, humorless laugh. "She's not my biological mother. That makes sense."
The nurse sighed and said nothing else.
On the ninth day, my father arrived with a paternity test in hand.
"Grace," he said, "she's not your stepmother. She's your biological mother. You are her real daughter.
"Back then, in order to marry into the Davidson family, she left you in my care and told everyone that Eloise was her biological child."
Eloise Davidson was the one who pushed me off the third floor.
And my biological mother—believing I was merely a stranger's child—was standing in court defending her.
In her mind, Eloise was the daughter she had to protect at all costs.
In my previous life, I took that secret to my grave, dying from postoperative infection.
This time, I took a photo of the DNA report and sent it to the entire Davidson family group chat.
My caption was only one line: [Ms. Poole, you said your defense is based on maternal love. So tell me—what exactly am I?]
*****
"Grace, are you so desperate for money that you've gone crazy?" Eloise Davidson's voice shot through the group chat. "Photoshopping fake pics just to try and scam the Davidson family for cash?
"Do you really think someone like you, a maid's daughter, can even try to mess with my mom's reputation?"
Her tone was cutting, full of arrogance and disdain.
I leaned back against the headrest of my hospital bed.
A ripping pain flared in my ribs.
I didn't reply to her.
A private message popped up on my screen.
It was from Emily Poole.
She was the matriarch of the Davidson family, the one Eloise called "Mom."
And she was my real mom.
Emily sent me a message: [Grace, delete what you posted in the group chat.]
[These petty tricks only make you look cheap.]
[If you need money, just say it. Because your dad helped me out years ago, I'll give you some compensation.]
[But if you try to ruin Eloise's reputation like this, as both her mother and her attorney, I will make you pay for it.]
I stared at the words on the screen.
Every sentence was clear and logical, completely devoid of emotion.
This was what a gold-star lawyer looked like.
I typed out my reply. [Ms. Poole, the paternity test came from City General Hospital.]
[If you don't believe me, you can check the authenticity code yourself.]
[Or, see you in court.]
Emily didn't respond to my messages.
The hospital room door swung open.
My dad walked in, carrying an insulated food container.
He was wearing his faded blue coveralls, the cuffs stained with grease.
"Grace, it's time to eat," Dad said.
He set the container on the bedside table and opened it up.
The oatmeal was mushy, cooked until it was practically falling apart.
There were a few fresh gashes on the back of his hand.
"Dad, what happened to your hand?" I asked.
He pulled his hand behind his back, trying to hide it.
"Got scratched fixing a car. It's nothing," he said.
I knew that wasn't the real reason.
Just yesterday, Eloise brought some people to his auto shop and stirred up trouble.
She accused me of stealing her necklace, and used that as her excuse for "accidentally" pushing me down the stairs.
"Dad, I sent the paternity test to the group chat," I said.
He paused mid-pour, the oatmeal almost spilling as he stopped suddenly.
The spoon hit the side of the metal container with a crisp clang.
"Did she see it?" he asked.
"Yeah, she saw it," I replied.
"What did she say?
"She said I faked the test to try and get money out of the Davidson family."
Dad lowered his head, staring at the bowl of oatmeal.
"Back then..." he started, his voice hoarse, "when she was pregnant with you, Gabriel Davidson was searching for her.
"She said if she brought a child with her, the Davidson family would never accept her.
"Gabriel's ex-wife had a daughter from another relationship, and that was Eloise.
"To show her loyalty, she brought Eloise home and treated her like her own daughter. And she just left you with me."
He lifted his head, his eyes red and brimming with tears.
"Grace, it's all my fault. I'm useless. I couldn't give you the life you deserved," he said.
I took the bowl of oatmeal in my hands.
"Dad, this oatmeal tastes pretty sweet," I said. "Don't talk like that, okay? You've taken care of me for twenty years. You're the only real family I've got."
I heard footsteps outside the door.
The rapid click of high heels echoed down the hallway tiles.
The door swung open.
It wasn't Emily.
It was her assistant, a young woman dressed in business attire.
She walked in, took a look around the tiny, plain hospital room, and wrinkled her nose.
"Grace, Ms. Poole asked me to bring this," she said.
She took a document out of her briefcase and placed it on the bed.
She continued, "It's a settlement agreement.
"Ms. Poole said, as long as you sign this and admit you fell down the stairs by accident, the Davidson family will cover all your medical bills, plus give you 150 thousand dollars as compensation."
150 thousand dollars—that was the price for my three broken ribs—and the life I lost in my previous life.
I stared at the document and asked, "And what if I refuse to sign?"
The assistant pushed up her glasses and said, "Grace, don't push your luck. Ms. Poole doesn't lose cases. You're just a mechanic's kid. How do you expect to take on the Davidson family?
"In court, Ms. Poole has plenty of ways to prove you're lying. If that happens, you won't get a single cent, and you'll end up being accused of extortion."
Dad shot to his feet. "This is outrageous.
"She kicked Grace down the stairs and nearly killed her, and you think you can just pay her off with 150 thousand dollars like she's some beggar?"
The assistant let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Hey, Mr. Lindsey, you can't just throw around accusations without any proof.
"The security cameras were busted. Who actually saw our Miss Davidson kick her? Maybe she was sneaking around, got nervous, and ended up falling all by herself."
I picked up the agreement.
The paper was thick, felt expensive in my hands.
I pinched the corners and tore it clean in half.
I folded the pieces together and kept ripping them apart until they were nothing but shreds, which I scattered across the floor.
"Go back and tell Ms. Poole," I said. "I don't need your 150 thousand dollars. I just want Eloise behind bars."
The assistant's face fell. "Grace, you'll regret this."
She spun around and walked out, her high heels clicking on the floor.
As she reached the door, my phone started ringing.
An unknown number flashed on the screen.
But I recognized the number right away.
In my previous life, this number called me once.
It was when I was burning up with a fever, on the brink of death.
She said, "Grace, stop playing dead. Eloise is getting slammed online and she's depressed because of you. Hurry up and post a clarification video."
I hit the answer button and put it on speaker.
The hospital room was dead silent.
"Grace." Emily's voice came through the speaker.
It was dripped with arrogance and impatience, like she was handing down favors from above.
"So, 150 thousand isn't enough for you? How much do you want?" she said.