Chapter 3Poisoned My Brother; Three Years Later, He Returned for Revenge—Unaware It Was My Plan

After a brief introduction, the others left, until only Daniel—who passed out three minutes later—and Ryan remained.

I pretended not to recognize Ryan as I grabbed Daniel by the arm and tried to drag him out of the lounge.

But suddenly, Ryan grabbed my wrist, throwing me onto the couch with a force that knocked the breath out of me.

Meanwhile, Daniel crashed to the floor, completely undisturbed in his drunken slumber.

I gasped in shock. “Ryan, what are you doing?!”

Ryan sneered, gripping my face tightly. “Grace, my dearest sister, do you really not recognize me? I’m Ethan, the brother you poisoned.”

“Surprised? I didn’t die. My face didn’t rot away. And now, I’m the esteemed Ryan Song of the Song family!”

He leaned in closer, his grip tightening. “Now, your precious Snow family is nothing more than a dog groveling at my feet. If I’m feeling generous, I might toss them a bone. If not…”

His hand squeezed harder. “I’ll destroy them.”

Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain. I could see the hatred burning behind his calm expression.

Struggling to speak, I whispered, “Please... for old times’ sake… spare the Snow family…”

Ryan laughed coldly. “Didn’t you poison me because you didn’t want our parents to find out you weren’t their real daughter? You were afraid of losing your place.”

“Well, let’s see what happens when they get to make the choice themselves—will they choose wealth and status, or you?”

He stood up, pulling out a wet wipe to clean his hands before tossing it onto me.

As he reached the door, he turned and shot me a cruel smile. “Enjoy your last peaceful night.”

By the next morning, my parents had handed me over to Ryan without a second thought.

With forced smiles, they left me with one last remark: “Grace was out of line for offending you, Ryan. Whatever punishment you deem fit, go ahead!”

A maid’s uniform was tossed at me.

Ryan grinned darkly. “Put this on. From now on, you’re my maid.”

When I emerged, humiliated, in the maid uniform, Ryan’s eyes lingered on me before he ordered, “Clean every inch of this house until there’s not a speck of dust.”

I obediently grabbed a cloth and bucket, getting down on my knees to scrub the floor.

Two hours later.

A pair of slippers appeared in front of me, and Ryan kicked me in the side, grumbling, “Why are you so slow?”

The bucket tipped over, spilling dirty water all over me.

“Disgusting,” Ryan said, his voice full of disdain.

“Now, I’m starving. Make me a steak, roasted duck, an egg tart, and… oh, throw in some spicy noodles.” He rattled off a long list of dishes.

I nodded, without a hint of complaint. “Got it.”

Just then, the system switched to a first-person perspective, capturing my thoughts:

“I’m sorry, Ethan. If doing all this can ease even a fraction of your anger, I’ll gladly do it. I only hope the poison will leave your system soon…”

In return, the readers unleashed a torrent of insults:

"Ugh, now she regrets it? Too little, too late! The only way to make up for it is to die!"

"She’s talking about curing his poison—does she even have the antidote?"

"But Ethan’s fine now! The doctors said so. Why is she still pretending? Where’s my sweet, soft-hearted heroine? I’m sick of looking at this woman!"

Ryan, watching me soak in dirty water, seemed irritated and walked off.

4

After spending three hours in the kitchen, I prepared a banquet that mixed Western and Eastern dishes. I knocked on the door to let Ryan know.

The door opened, and a stunning woman appeared, her eyes challenging as she smiled at me. “Ryan’s in the shower. You can wait, little maid.”

I lowered my eyes and nodded. “Alright.”

I headed downstairs, where I waited for Ryan to emerge, wrapped in a bathrobe, his arm around the woman’s waist as they came to the table.

Suddenly, Ryan slammed his chopsticks down and glared at me. “What are you standing there for? Get over here and serve us. Peel the shrimp, and make sure there are no bones in the fish. If Monica gets hurt, it’s your head.”

Monica feigned concern. “Oh, Ryan, why are you being so harsh? Grace must be hungry too. Shouldn’t we invite her to eat with us?”

Ryan sneered. “The dog and the maid don’t get to sit at the table. They can eat our leftovers.”

Without a word, I walked over and began peeling the shrimp, silently enduring the humiliation.

After dinner, Ryan scraped the leftovers into two bowls. One, he set down for his dog, and the other, he placed beside the dog’s bed.

He called out to me, “From now on, this is where you’ll eat.”

A single tear slipped down my face, but when I looked up, my expression was empty. “Understood.”

Ryan lost interest immediately, scoffing. “Just like I thought, no feelings at all—just a stone.”

Then, he wrapped his arm around Monica and headed for the door. “Didn’t you say there’s a new handbag you want? Let’s go get it.”

“You’re the best, Ryan!” Monica squealed, planting a kiss on his cheek.

I looked away in discomfort, but I made sure Ryan caught the flicker of pain in my expression.

Seeing that I was hurt, Ryan’s face lit up with twisted satisfaction. He lifted Monica into his arms, heading out the door, but not before tossing one last line over his shoulder:

“I’m not coming back tonight.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly. Who even wants you back?

The days blurred together after that. Mopping floors, spilling dirty water, cooking meals, and watching Ryan and Monica’s public displays of affection were the repetitive cycle of my new life.

It was dull, predictable. “These small tricks aren’t even enough to satisfy me.”

Still, some readers began to feel sympathy for me, and my health bar rose by 10%.

Until one day.

I received a message from Daniel.

A smile tugged at my lips, excitement gleaming in my eyes: Finally, the real show is about to begin…