Chapter 1

When the end of the world came, I found myself reborn, right alongside the fake heiress.

I forgot everything about my past life, except for one thing: she stole my entire life.

But in this monster-infested world, she kept pulling me out of their clutches, time and again.

She handed me the last piece of bread, going hungry until she passed out herself.

She gave me the only dose of antiserum after I got scratched by a zombie, and she began to turn into one herself.

"Why?" I asked, my voice trembling with emotion.

She managed a weak smile, her gaze gentler than ever before. "Because... I'm your sister."

I thought she was showing remorse.

But then, memories from my past life came rushing back.

In that previous life, she was the true heiress who had been brought back home—and I was the imposter.

When the apocalypse hit, out of jealousy, I pushed her right into the zombie horde.

But after I got infected, she was the one who, sobbing, handed me the only dose of antiserum.

Just before she died, she told me, "Don't be afraid. I'm your sister."

*****

Just as expected, the zombie horde came crashing in.

I squeezed myself into the deepest corner of the shelf, pressing my hand over my mouth, not daring to make any sound.

Charlotte Lane was outside, fighting off three wandering zombies with a fire axe.

The thudding sound of the axe splitting through rotten flesh made my stomach turn.

I hate her.

I hate her for stealing everything from me.

I'm supposed to be the real heiress of the Lane Family and she's just some outsider, a mistake who got swapped in by accident.

But once my parents found her, my whole life flipped upside down.

They said I stole someone else's life, that I'm cruel.

They showered her with all their love and tried to make up for everything, while I was tossed aside like trash.

When I opened my eyes on the day the apocalypse hit, the first thing I saw was her pretending to be innocent.

"Em, don't be scared," Charlotte would say gently.

She always used that soft, gentle tone when calling me Em.

And like she was some sort of saviors, she'd keep dragging me out of trouble, time after time.

I don't need that!

Outside the glass door, Charlotte brought her axe down, splitting the last zombie's skull. Murky green blood splattered across her, soaking her from head to toe.

She dragged the axe inside, the heavy scent of blood clinging to her like a second skin.

My stomach churned.

She didn't even look my way but headed straight for a row of shelves and pulled out half a pack of cookies from the very bottom.

That was our last bit of food.

She handed me the cookies, her voice rough with exhaustion. "Go on, eat."

I didn't move.

She nudged the cookies closer, refusing to take no for an answer.

I stared at her pale, cracked lips and those unnaturally bright eyes, and my hatred only grew stronger.

There she goes again.

Always pretending to be generous, just so she can look noble and selfless.

"I don't want your scraps," I said, my voice icy.

Charlotte paused mid-motion.

She locked eyes with me, silent, then tore open the package, took out a cookie, and deliberately ate it right in front of me.

Then she placed the rest, all of them, right in front of me.

"Now, they're not leftovers," she said softly.

With that, she slumped down against the shelf and closed her eyes, looking completely drained, like she had nothing left in her.

I glared at the pack of cookies as if I were staring down an enemy.

My stomach betrayed me with a loud growl.

Then I snatched up the cookies and shoved them into my mouth, chewing furiously like I was tearing into her flesh.