Chapter 4

James came back half a day earlier than expected and asked me to have lunch with him.

Excited, I was the first one to rush out of the office building.

At the wide entrance stood a familiar figure, my father.

I hadn't sent him any money for two months, and now he had tracked me down.

I quickly turned around, trying to slip back inside.

Even though I finally had money now, I didn't want to give him a single cent.

No matter how much I gave, in his mouth, I was always the useless, unfilial daughter.

Meanwhile, my brother, who did nothing but live off him, was somehow seen as the most dutiful child.

My father roared and charged at me. "Emily, where the hell do you think you're going?"

Upon having been beaten by him since I was little, the sound of his angry voice still made my legs go weak.

But instead of grabbing me, he rushed past and seized Charlotte.

I almost forgot. She was the one living as Emily now.

My father slapped her hard across the face, not once but twice.

He shouted, "You live in luxury every day, eating and drinking well, while your mother and I are starving back home. We don't even have a decent set of clothes.

"You and your husband make thousands every month, yet you won't even give us three hundred dollars in support. I raised you for nothing.

"If you don't hand over sixty thousand dollars today, I'll beat you to death, you worthless brat."

Charlotte was stunned at first, but she quickly came back to her senses and fought back with everything she had.

She jabbed at his eyes, bashed his head with her purse, and even kicked him below the belt.

Her methods were messy and rough, but they actually hurt him.

She fought while sobbing, drawing a crowd of onlookers.

"Who is this lunatic, attacking people out of nowhere? I don't even know him. Security.

"Call the police. Get this psycho out of here." Security? Call the police. Get this psycho out of here."

Feeling provoked, my father grew even more furious. "You ungrateful bitch, you've lost all respect. You dare to hit your own father? I'll kill you today."

Security managed to restrain him just in time.

Charlotte called the police, and they dragged my father off to the station.

I followed along, curious to see how things would play out.

At the station, my father kept insisting Charlotte was his daughter, but he couldn't produce a shred of proof. All he did was shout and throw tantrums.

The police weren't about to indulge him. After warning him three times without effect, they restrained him by force.

Charlotte stuck to her story that he was mentally unstable, a danger to society, and demanded that they send him to a mental hospital.

My father went berserk, screaming that he would kill her.

Convinced he might truly be mentally ill, the police bound his hands and feet and transferred him straight to the psychiatric ward.

And just like that, the mountain that had weighed on me for more than twenty years was crushed with ease.

Shaken, I began to reflect.

Had I been too blindly dutiful all these years?

Too incapable of resisting?

If I had fought back like Charlotte, would I have broken free from their exploitation long ago?

This strange twist of fate, this exchange of souls, had not only fulfilled Charlotte but also rescued me.

My relationship with James grew more harmonious by the day.

After I figured out his temperament, I realized he was actually quite easy to get along with.

He liked to be in control, so I leaned on him, letting him take charge of everything.

He wasn't much of a talker, so I simply stayed by his side quietly.

Over time, he became more cheerful, smiled more often, and treated me with increasing tenderness.

Now and then, he was a little domineering, which only made our life together more romantic.

He grew more and more satisfied with me. He often took me along to dinners, introduced me generously to his contacts, and patiently explained current affairs. He guided me on how to handle complicated social relationships.

When I said the wrong thing or made a mistake, he took the blame without hesitation and actively helped me fix the situation.

But Ryan, when he was the one who made a mess, still blamed me relentlessly and left me alone to clean up after him.

Charlotte was completely hooked on Ryan's image and his body, and she thought it was all perfect.

Even after learning that his physique depended heavily on drugs, she still admired him.

When Charlotte found out that Ryan flirted with other women online, she didn't get upset—instead, she took it as proof of how attractive he was.

For Ryan's sake, she started learning video editing and script writing.

Whenever something was too hard to handle, she simply paid someone else to do it.

She even planned on having his baby so she could open a new account as a parenting influencer.

She said, "Ryan looks so good, his body is flawless. His child has to be the cutest baby in the world."

But with all the drugs Ryan had been taking, I doubted he was in any condition to have kids.

I wanted to warn her, but after some hesitation, I kept quiet.

With Charlotte's temper, not only would she refuse to thank me, she might even accuse me of cursing her.

Forget it—everyone had their own fate.

Interfering in other people's business only ever brings trouble back to me.

A month later, Charlotte came to me, thrilled, and told me she was pregnant.

"Ryan is over the moon about this baby. He said he'll start putting aside fifteen thousand dollars every month for the child. And once the baby is born, he's buying a house."

I'd been fed promises like that more times than I could count.

To this day, I hadn't seen a single dollar from Ryan.

Not long after, another fitness influencer passed away.

If Ryan didn't get a grip on his drug use, he was bound to end up the same way.

I sent the news clip to Charlotte. After watching it, she actually looked pleased.

"One less competitor," she said with a smile. "Ryan's follower count should go up now."