"Your mother called the cops and reported you for stealing valuable property!"
"Stay still. You're coming with us."
The second Jasmine Truman opened her eyes in that motel, she was yanked up and cuffed before she could even process anything.
It wasn’t until the interrogation that she finally pieced things together—her own birth mother had accused her of stealing a jade and gold ring worth billions.
"I didn’t do it!"
"I haven’t even seen the damn thing before!"
No matter how many times she protested, the cops still treated her like a hardened criminal—said the evidence was solid, that she was being uncooperative. She ended up in jail.
"What a joke!"
"If I’d known this would happen, I’d never have gone back to meet her!"
Jasmine sneered coldly. She was just a baby, left in some park corner. Her adoptive father found her on his way home from a late shift.
They never had kids of their own, so they took her in and raised her as best they could. But later, both fell seriously ill and died, using up all the family's savings.
To survive, she turned to livestreaming and posting horror stories online for cash. But after six months of trying, she was barely getting by, couldn’t even afford rent anymore.
She was one step away from sleeping on the streets when the powerful Owens family came knocking, claiming she was their lost daughter.
She honestly thought her luck had finally turned.
But no—they had a whole different story in mind. Turns out, her bio parents already had a son and a daughter. She was nothing but an outsider in that house—nobody gave a damn about her.
Her mother looked down on her for being too soft. Her father basically acted like she didn’t exist. Being there every day was like living in suffocating silence.
This last family trip to Siam, her birth mom took it a step further—framing her just to get her locked up and out of the way.
"Then why the hell did they go looking for me in the first place?"
She lowered her eyes. "Are those even my real parents, or just enemies in disguise?"
Eventually, the Siamese court sentenced her to nine months. Nine whole months in prison.
Only after getting locked up did she realize why the family suddenly decided she should come along on this trip, after treating her like air non-stop.
They'd set this up from the get-go.
That whole theft story was flimsy as hell—so dumb it wouldn’t stand a chance with cops back home. But here in a foreign country, she had no support, no way to prove her innocence.
If she got arrested without a passport abroad, she’d be stuck. Exactly how they wanted it.
They never meant to let her go home again.
"Fine then. Whatever. From now on, I, Jasmine Truman, don’t need so-called family anymore."
Nine months. Long, bitter, dragging months.
"Jasmine Truman, you're free to go."
Once out, she changed out of the uniform and went to the pickup window to get her things. Everything taken from her when she was arrested was supposed to be there.
A middle-aged man behind the counter, greasy face and eyes full of sleaze, gave her a once-over. "Here’s your stuff. Take it and leave."
Something felt off. Without even checking through, she asked, "Where’s my gold necklace? It’s missing."
The man instantly puffed up with hostility. "Looking for trouble, huh? What necklace? I didn’t see any damn necklace."
Jasmine clenched her teeth. That necklace wasn’t just jewelry—her adoptive parents had given it to her for her eighteenth birthday. She’d worn it everywhere since.She glared at the middle-aged man, slamming her fist hard against the glass. "Give me back my necklace! It's a keepsake from my parents!"
He gave a mocking snort. "Get lost. Don’t make me throw you back in there—ten more years, how about that?"
As he waved his hand, a gun-wielding officer in uniform started walking toward Jasmine Truman.
Her face turned pale from fear. In a panic, she noticed the man wearing a so-called protective bead bracelet.
People in Siam were notoriously superstitious—ghosts, spirits, all that.
Jasmine recalled a short video she’d seen where a Taoist priest tried to enter Siam, only to be stopped by security. The priest explained he carried spiritual tools, nothing harmful, but the translator misunderstood and called it voodoo. The staff freaked out and let him pass instantly.
As the officer with the electric baton came closer, Jasmine quickly made something up. "That gold necklace was blessed by a Taoist. It's my protection charm—only works for me. If someone else wears it, bad luck follows."
They both burst into laughter.
What? A fragile young woman practicing dark arts? Who’d buy that?
If she really had those abilities, would she have ended up behind bars?
The middle-aged man spat, "You think I’m an idiot? You expect me to fall for that?"
The officer said coldly, "She's pulling a con. Just got out and already causing trouble? Clearly hasn’t learned a thing. Time for a second round behind bars."
Getting assigned to the property office usually meant having serious connections, so the officer gladly helped out, ready to "teach her a lesson."
They pinned Jasmine to the ground, cuffed her. Unable to move, she shouted in desperation, "At first, it'll just bring the wearer bad luck. But the longer it’s worn, the stronger the backlash—it’ll end in death. Don’t believe me? Try it and see."
The man sneered, eyes full of contempt. "Cursing me now? Let's see who drops dead first!"
Then he barked at the officer, "Assaulting a cop? That adds more time!"
The officer nodded and raised his baton. But just then, a loud "thud" broke the air.
He turned to look—and there was the middle-aged man, flat on his face, as if the ground just yanked him down. Two front teeth were gone, his nose gushing blood.
He cursed, dizzy, trying to pick himself up.
Jasmine was stunned. What the hell?
Everything she said about "the curse" was made-up!
Snarling, the man wiped his bloody face and pointed at her. "This woman is cursed! Beat her!"
But the officer froze—he wasn’t about to risk his life for this.
Fuming, the man grabbed the baton himself and charged at Jasmine. He hadn’t even touched her when—BANG!
A gun accidentally went off right beside his head.
He almost peed himself.
Had that shot hit, he’d be dead.
Now trembling, he stared at Jasmine—gone was the tough guy act, replaced by fear and disbelief.
What if she was telling the truth?
What if he really was cursed?
Jasmine, drenched in cold sweat, forced herself to look calm and mysterious as she said, "Do you believe me now? Hand over that necklace, or things will only get worse for you."