Late December 1970, at the Smith household.

"Smack—"

A loud slap broke the silence in the cramped, dimly lit room.

Anne Bradley held her burning cheek, tears running down her face. Her eyes were filled with disbelief and confusion.

Seeing the bright red mark on her pale face, Brian Smith felt a fleeting pang of regret. His hand had moved too fast.

He couldn’t meet Anne’s teary gaze. He stared at his own hand, silently asking himself, "Why couldn’t I stop myself?"

"Brian Smith! Who do you think you are, hitting me like this? My parents have never laid a finger on me my whole life—the hell gives you the right?!"

Her words stabbed right into Brian’s sore spot. That trace of guilt he felt vanished instantly.

"Anne, get this through your head. You’re not that pampered Bradley family princess anymore!"

Anne didn’t respond, just stood there stunned. Brian thought he’d hit a nerve and got bolder.

"You married me. Now you're part of the Smith family. Stop acting like some high-and-mighty capitalist lady."

"I only married you ‘cause I felt sorry for you—your family just got relocated and all. You think I really cared?"

"And let me be clear—we’re legally married now. The money in this house? What to spend and where? That's up to me. Don’t even think about using another cent on that freeloading bunch of yours!"

Anne had never seen this nasty side of Brian. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. She was weak to begin with, and now she nearly fainted from anger.

It took her a while to choke out a few shaky words. "Brian Smith, who are you calling freeloaders?"

Brian had been holding back those words for too long; now that he’d said them, the sky didn’t fall. That made him even more reckless.

"Who else? That whole Bradley clan of yours. A bunch of bloodsuckers living off people’s labor."

"Everyone’s been relocated, stuck shoveling manure somewhere. Still got the nerve to live off others. Total deadweight."

Anne was trembling with rage as he insulted her family. Just as she was about to argue back, the door swung open.

Cheryl Johnson, the girl Brian had grown up with, walked in. She gave Anne a condescending glance before walking straight to Brian’s side.

"Brian, I don’t feel well... my stomach really hurts. Can you take me to the hospital? I’m worried something’s wrong with the baby~"

Brian’s expression immediately changed. He rushed to support her swelling belly.

"Is it really bad, Cheryl? Let’s go now. You and the baby come first."

Without waiting, he scooped her up and turned to leave.

Anne snapped out of her daze. So they’d been involved all along—and they weren’t even trying to hide it?

She and Brian had only been married a little over a month, but Cheryl’s belly already looked like she was three or four months along.

After everything she’d been through since her family’s downfall, today had broken something in her. Her mind went blank.

She lunged forward to strike Cheryl, but before she could even reach her, Brian shoved her hard.

She hit the wall with such force she could barely breathe. But Brian only turned to ask Cheryl if she was okay.

That did it.

Anne snapped and threw herself at them again, not caring about anything else.

"Ah! Brian, watch out!"

Before Cheryl even finished warning him, Brian was already ready for her—and shoved Anne away once more, harder than before.Anne Bradley hit the sharp corner of the brick wall headfirst and collapsed on the ground, completely knocked out.

Inside the room, Cheryl Johnson and Brian Smith panicked at the sight of the blood streaming down Anne’s forehead.

"Brian...do you think... she’s dead? What do we do now?"

Brian froze for a second but quickly calmed down. Remembering that the Bradleys had all been sent away, he looked coldly at the blood-soaked figure on the ground, his eyes showing no sympathy.

"Well, that spoiled capitalist girl... better off dead."

Cheryl blinked in surprise, then seemed to put the pieces together. A small smile tugged at her lips.

"Brian, I mean, she’s always had poor health since we were kids, and she’s made it this far. This kind of injury? Nothing too serious."

Brian didn’t reply, just kept staring at the body.

Seeing his reaction, Cheryl figured her comment worked and wisely stayed quiet.

After a while, Brian went into his parents’ room. When he came back, he was holding a bucket.

Even from a distance, Cheryl smelled the strong stench. Her morning sickness was already bad, and the smell made it worse—she clutched her chest and started gagging.

Brian, trying to be considerate, told her to wait outside.

Cheryl covered her mouth and ran out like something terrifying was chasing her.

Inside, Brian didn't hold back anymore. He grabbed Anne’s bloody head and shoved it down into the bucket, pressing down hard.

The sharp cold jolted Anne back into a flicker of consciousness. Realizing she couldn’t breathe, she flailed with all the strength she had left—but it wasn’t enough.

He waited a while longer, then finally pulled her head out. Her once-pretty face was now a mess of blood and filth. Even Brian almost threw up at the sight.

He reacted quickly though. Rushing back into the house, he grabbed an old, worn blanket, wiped the mess off the floor as best as he could, then wrapped her body in it.

Anne stood there, watching all of it, stunned. She didn’t fully understand what was happening until Brian and Cheryl stuffed her body into the sealed-off basement of the abandoned Bradley villa.

Only then did it hit her—she was dead. Just like that. A ghost.

From that day on, an invisible force kept pulling her back and forth between the Bradleys and Brian Smith’s world. Over and over, for a full six years.

During that time, she saw Cheryl pocket the Bradley family’s heirloom jade pendant, which gave her some strange powers. She got prettier by the day and could even make things vanish or move without touching them.

She watched Brian and Cheryl live large off the wealth the Bradleys left behind, enjoying luxury without a care.

Meanwhile, Anne’s family—over a dozen of them—died one after another.

Deep hatred filled her heart. She hated herself for not seeing through Brian’s act sooner, hated Brian for lying and stepping over her family’s corpses for his own gain, and hated everyone who helped bring down the Bradleys.

But there was nothing she could do. She even blamed heaven itself—why not let her become a wrathful spirit at least, someone who could get revenge?

But heaven didn’t care.

Not until her father, Michael Bradley, came back to dig up the bones of their loved ones in preparation to return to Beijing. Just before he could leave, he died too.

That broke her completely.

“Dad—”

The cry was full of grief and despair, but no one could hear it. Her consciousness faded away right then.

Who knew how long passed before she suddenly returned to awareness—surprisingly, Brian Smith was right in front of her, talking.