Chapter 1I Won’t Be Gaslit Again

My father went bankrupt, my mother was gravely ill, my brother got into a car accident delivering food and was paralyzed from the waist down, and my stepsister, a false princess, had to eat radish soup with rice every day to pursue her dreams.

The entire family depended on me. Gritting my teeth, I was about to use the money from today’s blood donation to treat everyone to a nice meal when countless bullet comments suddenly appeared before my eyes.

“Don’t give it to them! These old folks are loaded; they’re just pretending to be poor to test you!”

“Don’t spoil it, upstairs! This is a regret-of-the-dead story. Once they realize the real heir wasn’t after their money, they’ll regret it naturally!”

“Oh, so the real heir has to die from illness before they feel any remorse? What’s the point of a story like that?”

My mind exploded in a deafening buzz as a flood of unfamiliar memories, yet unmistakably mine, surged forth.

* * *

It turned out I was the true heir in a “real versus fake heir” story, and my biological parents were billionaires. Fearing I would covet their money, after acknowledging me, they collectively feigned illness and poverty. And I, to support the family, had to drop out of school to earn money, selling research projects, start-up companies, even resorting to selling my blood and participating in drug trials. Yet, I couldn't bear to spend anything on myself, ultimately developing stomach cancer.

After my death, the whole family went mad with regret, blaming and tearing each other apart.

I looked up again to see my family staring intently at the money in my hand. My heart clear as crystal, I immediately tucked the cash back into my bag.

My parents, brimming with suspicion, immediately asked what I meant.

I put on a hesitant expression. “This money… I earned it by selling my blood.”

The entire family was stunned.

I lowered my gaze, placed the money on the coffee table, and spoke in a deliberately weak voice. “If you… cough, then take it. Don’t worry about me. For you, I’d even die willingly.”

My family stared, dumbfounded. My parents, especially, were overcome with intense guilt.

“This money isn’t absolutely…” Mom struggled to speak, her eyes filled with heartache as she looked at me.

My stepsister, Daphne Hayes, scowled. My brother, Oliver Bellweather, noticing the abnormality, immediately frowned and chided me. “That’s enough, Amelia Thorne. Are you deliberately trying to play the victim? Is anyone in this family having an easy time?” He patted his paralyzed leg forcefully. “If I hadn’t broken my leg delivering food, I wouldn’t care for your money.”

“Where did you learn such a self-pitying trick? You’re far too manipulative!”

Daphne echoed him. “Yes, sister, does anyone even sell blood these days? How did you just ‘happen’ to find such a place? Nowadays, it’s all voluntary donations; there are many kind people, especially college students. No one would be foolish enough to buy blood.”

Hearing this, my parents’ expressions subtly shifted, their gazes at me now filled with scrutiny.

Before my biological parents took me home, I was working odd jobs, selling things at a street stall, constantly squabbling over space with vendors next to me. They initially felt a little sorry for me, but then Daphne chimed in, calling me black-hearted and greedy. With Oliver’s constant encouragement, they became wary of me, fearing I was a mercenary opportunist, so they decided to test me by feigning poverty.

I looked up, opening my lips as if to defend myself. But as soon as I opened my mouth, I broke into a fit of coughing, my body swaying precariously. Finally, my eyes rolled back, and I simply fainted.

Just before losing consciousness, a blood donation certificate conveniently fluttered from my hand. The date on it was today.

My mother glared unhappily at the two siblings, then immediately rushed me to the hospital.