Chapter 1

Charlotte Rivers was my so-called sister, and honestly, she had every reason to hate me.

After all, I was the daughter of the other woman and took her father away from her.

What was more, on the day she got engaged, I ended up in bed with her fiancé.

As a result, Charlotte was driven out of the country.

She didn't come back until three years after I died.

By then, Charlotte was a renowned pianist, dating the hottest guy in Kingston City.

While she was laughing and chatting at the party, my remains were left in pieces, tossed in a doghouse, with bite marks all over my bones.

My soul trailed after Charlotte, watching her search for any trace of me.

But she would never find me.

Because three years ago, I chose to die for her.

*****

Charlotte searched the Rivers Residence from top to bottom, but there wasn't a single trace of me left.

Frustrated, she kicked a table, her mood sour.

Back then, before she even stepped inside, she could already hear my exaggerated laughter drifting through the house as I gossiped with the maids.

As soon as she walked in, she'd see the gifts I'd deliberately left out on the table, just to show off.

With every trace of me wiped from the Rivers Residence, Charlotte felt a strange discomfort settle in—like something was missing, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

She rubbed her forehead, forcing herself to shove thoughts of me to the back of her mind.

Putting on a practiced smile, Charlotte stepped out to face the crowd that had been waiting for her at the Rivers Residence.

"Charlotte, you've gotten even prettier! I heard everyone online is calling you the most beautiful pianist," someone said.

"Charlotte, your wedding with Mr. Payne is coming up soon, right? You have to let me be your bridesmaid!" another chimed in.

"Charlotte, as a favor for an old classmate, could you sign something for me? My daughter became a huge fan after watching your competition videos—your posters are all over our walls at home," a third person chimed in.

I drifted quietly overhead, watching as Charlotte maintained her graceful composure, handling all the attention with practiced ease.

Back in high school, it was always like this—wherever Charlotte went, all eyes were on her.

Whenever people talked about her, the first words that came to mind were perfect, elegant, beautiful, and ambitious.

Watching all those classmates buttering up to Charlotte, I suddenly remembered—I was the talk of the school back in high school, too, just not in the way she was.

I wondered what people used to say about me.

The daughter of the other woman, the girl with big boobs, slut, bitch, homewrecker.

Charlotte was honestly the only good person in our whole class—she was the one who never looked at me like I was some kind of freak.

She even lent me my very first pad, clean and smelling like flowers.

Back then, I used to wish that if only I could be Charlotte's little sister, maybe I could actually be close to her.

And then, well, I really did end up as her sister.

It turned out that my mom was the mistress that his dad kept hidden away.

Life really did have a twisted sense of humor.

From that moment on, our lives became hopelessly, irreversibly entwined.

In the Rivers Residence, the only person we could lean on was each other.

And the only person we could truly hate was each other.

Just thinking about it made my mood sour. The classmates nearby seemed to feel a chill in the air, sneezing several times in a row.

After wrapping up with her old classmates, Charlotte was just about to leave when a guy hesitantly called out to her, his voice timid.

Jason Brooks stared at her, his eyes lighting up with awe he couldn't hide. "Charlotte, you're really beautiful.

"If I hadn't let that bitch Sophie Rivers seduce me and make such a stupid mistake, would I be the one marrying you now?" he said.

I shot him a cold, dismissive look and rolled my eyes.

If it weren't for Charlotte's engagement with him, I wouldn't even bother to spare him a glance.

The whole place went dead silent.

People glanced at each other awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

Oliver Nelson awkwardly tried to smooth things over, joking, "Man, this booze is strong—even Jason's drunk."

Jason shoved him aside and snapped, "Stop pretending you care.

"If you hadn't been the one talking up Sophie's killer body in the dorm, would I have ever gotten hooked on her and dumped Charlotte?"

Oliver's face went from red to pale in an instant.

Everyone's gaze shifted to him, some subtly, some not so much.

It was like they were all thinking, so the guy who always played the good boy was actually like this in private?

But the moment they realized his sexual fantasy was about me, they all exchanged that same knowing smirk.

I'd seen that look more times than I could count.

If someone mouthed off at me, I'd give it right back; if they tried to harass me, I'd fight them off.

But that kind of sneaky malice? That was the one thing I couldn't do a damn thing about.

Every time we had PE and went running, a bunch of guys would crowd around with their basketballs, grinning at me like I was some kind of joke.

They'd be whispering, pointing, and snickering behind my back.

Whenever I snapped at them, they'd just say I was full of myself.

Sometimes I wished I could just tear my chest off and shut their filthy mouths for good.