Lila Summers died on her twentieth birthday.

Even though she had long prepared herself for a life devoid of happiness, it still stung a little.

The man's twisted expression and the bloodstained fruit knife in his hand blurred in her vision.

In her daze, an image surfaced—Vivian Hart, from years ago, earnestly trying to persuade her. Lila couldn’t forget the words that spilled from her mouth back then:

"Lila, come with me."

"I’ve already spoken to your dad. If you come with me, I’ll walk away with nothing."

"Lila, these past two years, I meant it when I said I liked you. If you follow me, I’ll treat you as my own."

Lila blinked. Maybe dying wasn’t as terrifying as she’d thought.

It was strange how, at the very end, her mind wandered back to that exact moment she had yearned for the most.

Vivian Hart had held her tightly, her voice cracking as she pleaded, “Lila, come with me. You won’t have any peace if you stay with him.”

Lila nodded.

But something felt...off.

Since when did hallucinations come with all five senses?

Vivian smelled faintly sweet, her touch impossibly soft, and...She lifted her hand to wipe her neck and glanced at her palm. The warm liquid wasn’t blood—it was Vivian’s tears.

Lila froze, her thoughts in a tangle.

Her hands were small and soft now, delicate like they had been. Vivian always said girls shouldn’t work too hard, so she had been pampered and cared for well.

“Lila Summers! Hurry up! If your dad decides to play hardball, my mom won’t have enough money to deal with him,” a boy snapped impatiently. He stood next to a large suitcase, frustration plain on his face.

Her gaze shifted.

Elliot.

Twelve-year-old Elliot Hart.

Elliot before the avalanche, cheerful and full of life.

“Lila,” Vivian looked at her with tear-filled eyes. “I’ll ask you one last time: do you still want to stay here?”

Lila felt disoriented. Was this reality or some strange vision before death?

But whatever it was, she refused to ignore her heart again.

Vivian’s expression grew more despondent, her movements slow and heavy as she reached for the suitcase and spoke to Elliot.

Then, a small hand brushed hers, gripping the handle of the luggage tightly.

“Vivian,” she said, her voice steady, “I’ll carry the small one. You help Elliot with the big one.”

Vivian turned to her, surprise lighting up her face. “Lila, you’ve changed your mind, haven’t you?” Elliot, who had been sulking on the side, seemed to lighten up a little. "I told you, after sticking with me for two years, your brain shouldn't still be this slow. Now, let's move!"

Lila didn’t answer Vivian’s question. Instead, she tilted her head up, her small face filled with a burning desire to live.

"Vivian, I know where my dad’s secret stash is."

Vivian arrived at her rented apartment in the city with her son and stepdaughter in tow. She took a quick look around. It was a simple two-bedroom, one living room setup.

"Lila, your brother’s a boy, so he can take the smaller room. You can share the big room with me for now, okay? Once I find a job and make enough money, I’ll get us a bigger place. Then, you’ll have your own little princess room, alright?"

Lila sat frozen on the sofa. She was still in shock.

Earlier, when no one was watching, she'd bit down hard on her arm several times. Tears were streaming down her face from the pain, but it was only then she realized—this wasn’t a dream. She really was alive again.

Vivian didn’t hear any reply from the kids, so she glanced up. Before she could say anything, a little figure rushed into her arms, slamming into her with enough force to make her stumble a few steps backward.

Even so, she instinctively wrapped her arms tightly around Lila.

"Aunt Vivian…" Lila’s voice was muffled as she spoke into her chest.

"Lila, don’t be scared. Auntie will always be here for you," Vivian said, her voice gentle and firm.

Lila believed her.Lila Summers had stubbornly chosen to stay with Thomas Summers in her previous life, and it had led to nothing but misery.

Vivian Hart had secretly sent her money all along.

Now, given a second chance, Lila wasn’t about to make the same mistake.

Family bonds? They didn’t matter if the people tied to them had rotten hearts.

Love and happiness didn’t always come from sharing bloodlines.

This time, she was going to live well, and she was determined to stay by Vivian Hart's side.

And also...

“Okay, okay, stop crying already. If you don’t want your dad, then fine, forget him. Wanna share a room with me instead? I’ll sleep on the floor,” Elliot Hart said casually as he walked over with two glasses of water after cleaning the floor.

“Elliot,” Vivian chastised, her voice firm with worry. She was clearly nervous, afraid Lila might get upset and run back to her father.

Lila tilted her little head up.

Thank goodness it was him—the Elliot Hart who teased people, got into fights, bought her clothes and shoes, and hadn’t yet turned into an emotionless robot.

Elliot grabbed a small stool to sit on, but before he could settle down, he was knocked straight onto the floor by a tiny human missile.

“Agh! Lila Summers, are you trying to kill me?!” cried the twelve-year-old boy, his slender frame unable to hold its ground. He landed hard on the floor, with the little “missile” crashing right on top of him.

“Brother, brother, brother!” Lila wailed as she clung to his neck, smearing tears and a fair amount of snot onto him, her voice loud and pleading as she repeated her words. “Brother, brother, brother!” "Elliot! Elliot! Has Lila Summers lost her mind?" Elliot Hart was sprawled out on the floor, shielding Lila Summers with his arms as he called out to Vivian Hart for help.

The moment Vivian saw the two kids, her annoyance disappeared, and she burst out laughing. "You two have fun getting used to the new place. I'm going to cook."

"Lila, get off me!" Elliot groaned in agony.

"No way!" Lila clung to them, savoring their warmth and scent.

This felt perfect.

Being alive felt perfect.

Being alive with them—it was perfect.

After a bout of playful chaos, the two siblings finally started unpacking their clothes.

Elliot noticed her. The Lila Summers he used to know, the one who rarely spoke or interacted with others, seemed to have changed.

She still looked the same, but somehow…

She was clingy. Ridiculously clingy.

She followed him around like a shadow.

Every single day, it was “Elliot, Elliot, Elliot!” like a broken record.

Almost like she worried he’d forbid her to call him that.

One evening, when Lila was fast asleep, Elliot asked Vivian in a hushed tone, “Mom, do you think Lila’s been possessed or something?”

Vivian frowned, her voice sharp but quiet. “Don’t talk nonsense, Elliot. How could you say that about your sister? Lila’s adorable.”

Scratching his head, Elliot murmured, “I’m not saying she isn’t. But—you seriously haven’t noticed how much she likes following me around?”“Elliot, before we brought her here, her life wasn’t great. She’s a kid with hardly any sense of security. Now suddenly, she’s living with two people who aren’t even related to her by blood. She’s scared, you know? Could you try being a little nicer to her, maybe cheer her up a bit?”

Elliot nodded slightly, beginning to understand.

Little kids always tend to cling to anyone even remotely familiar.

That’s probably it, huh?

“Got it, Mom,” Elliot replied, glancing at her with hesitation.

Vivian Hart raised her eyebrows. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it. Don’t act all mysterious like some brooding teenager.”

He curled his lip. “Did Victor Hart contact you?”

“Yeah,” Vivian admitted. “Did he talk to you too?”

Elliot nodded in response.

“What do you think?” Vivian asked.

The twelve-year-old raised his head, his eyes steady and serious. “I told him: First, I’ll support whatever Mom decides. If you want to go back, I’ll go back. Second, if you agree to go back, you have to take my sister with us too.”