Chapter 3

Inside the room, flames were already licking at all my IDs.

Edward rushed in, snatched up a wet towel, and smothered the fire, but almost everything had been reduced to ashes, except for a single photo hidden in my wallet, half of which had charred.

Mom and Dad froze, totally shocked. Never in a million years did they think Edward would catch on to their plan so fast.

Stella came running up just then, a pleading look all over her face. "Edward, you don't want to see my name dragged through the mud, do you? I'm your beloved little sister."

As soon as she said that, I didn't even have to guess. I knew Edward would cave in, just like our parents always did.

But deep down, I still wondered what if Edward actually stood with the victim for a change.

After all, he was always the one going all out in court for the underdogs, making sure they got the justice and compensation they deserved.

Edward, who was always so eloquent and never at a loss for words, could only let out a heavy sigh as Stella pleaded with him over and over.

He chose silence, crumpling the photo in his hand before shoving it deep into his pocket.

After that, Edward crouched down, pulled Stella into his arms, and whispered, "I'm your brother first, and a lawyer second. I'll protect you, even if it means risking everything I have ahead of me."

Mom and Dad were touched by the heartfelt moment between Edward and Stella. They hurried to help them up, repeating again and again, "Now this is what being a real family looks like."

Watching that so-called heartwarming scene, I felt ice cold all over.

I used to naively think they simply favored Stella, but now I realized that their favoritism had morphed into full-blown indulgence.

Even if it meant crossing the line into illegal territory.

The day after I died, the classroom, usually alive with the sound of kids reading aloud, fell completely silent.

The students sat quietly with their books, sometimes propping their chins in their little hands, gazing at the door, lost in thought.

I knew that they were waiting for me to show up and teach them, but my simple, kind-hearted students had no way of knowing that I would never come back to teach them again.

The principal, George Lamb, noticed something was off. He told the students to study on their own, and then stepped outside alone, trying to call me.

After a long string of busy tones, George muttered to himself, "Grace never seemed like the unreliable type. Why hasn't she shown up for class yet?"

But he didn't dwell on it. Assuming I'd just overslept, he made his way to my place.

It was a little house, but it was the place where I'd lived all my life.

I wasn't lucky enough to truly belong, but I was lucky to have a grandma who loved me more than anything.

Whenever I got bullied, she'd hug me tight, her heart aching for me. Then, leaning on her cane, she'd go from house to house, standing up for me and making sure things were made right.

When those bratty kids' parents shouted that I was a troublemaker, Grandma never blamed me without hearing my side first. Instead, she'd stand her ground and say, "I know exactly what kind of kid my granddaughter is."

But when Grandma found out I wasn't her real granddaughter, she handed me over to the Johnson family without a second thought.

Grandma said I wasn't meant to stay here. But what she didn't know was that the Johnson family wasn't really my home either.

At first, I hated her for giving me up so decisively.

But when I finally saw the big city, the kind of scenery I'd only ever seen in textbooks, I understood why Grandma was so desperate for the Johnson family to take me away.

She was just an old lady with a limp who'd never left this small place in her life, but she wanted her granddaughter to see the world.

I only understood it far too late. The only person who ever truly loved me in this world passed away from a stroke shortly after I finished my SAT.

The grandma who always kept me in her thoughts was now placed in a small box.

I put up with the Johnson family's cold shoulder and favoritism, all just so my grandma could rest easy.

I wanted to tell her that I was happy in the city, and things were good with the Johnson family.

That way, she wouldn't have to stress about me so much, or wake up at the crack of dawn to work just to cover my tuition.

But after she passed away, the only thing holding me back in this world was gone.

Breaking away from the Johnson family turned out to be a lot easier than I thought it would be.

George stood at the door, calling my name, but there was no answer.

He stood looking at the locked door, then turned and headed back up the path to school. This time, just like I did last night, he took the shortcut to save time.

Not far from the narrow path was a racetrack designed for high-end sports cars.

Midway along the path, George paused at the exact spot where I lost my life.

A pack of weasels was devouring the bloody remains left behind.

As soon as George appeared, they darted away in every direction.

Weasels were creatures of the night, so seeing them act out of character made George clutch his phone and creep forward carefully.

But it was just a mess of torn flesh. Wild animals were always wandering nearby, so stuff like this was pretty common around here.

Just as George was about to leave, he happened to notice my license lying on the ground. When he picked it up, he saw the dirt and blood on it.

"So even Grace can be careless sometimes. She actually lost her license on her way to the city," he muttered with a wry smile, shaking his head. But as he was about to slip the license into his pocket, his face suddenly went pale.

George muttered to himself, his voice trembling, "No way. Grace can't be that unlucky, right?"