Victoria had lost count of the times she regretted calling Marshall “dad” when she was just three, wandering the streets alone.

If regret came with a reset button, she’d rather starve on the sidewalk than have anything to do with the Johnson family again.

She never wanted to owe Marshall anything. Even if paying him back meant her life, she wouldn't have hesitated. Maybe the heavens finally heard her. At twenty-eight, she died—and with that, repaid every bit of the so-called kindness from the Johnsons.

When she opened her eyes again, she was back at seventeen. That was right after she’d returned from studying abroad.

At Hai City Hospital, the thin figure of a girl knelt beside a bed, stiff-backed and stubborn. She was wearing a faded black jacket and a pair of jeans. Her face was pale, almost sickly white.

Her small fists were clenched tightly, and a flicker of defiance hid behind her eyes.

“Victoria Johnson, apologize now!” Marshall’s voice boomed, dark with anger.

It all started with a fight between her and Clara. Clara had fallen down the stairs. The surveillance footage showed Victoria pushing her.

Victoria had been explaining non-stop that she didn’t do it, but no one cared.

No one believed her.

“Apologize? For what?” she slowly looked up, no longer willing to be the family’s punching bag. Staring at the man who used to be “Dad,” her eyes were cold, like looking at a stranger.

The second she finished speaking, a loud slap cracked through the air. Marshall smacked her across the face, hard.

Her head turned with the force, blood oozing from the corner of her mouth. He didn’t hold back at all.

“You’re still playing innocent? I should never have called you my daughter.”

Victoria turned back to him, and this time, she saw it all clearly. The disappointment, the disgust, the blame—it was never about truth with him.

Back then, all she wanted was his approval. A single glance from him was enough to make her swallow her pride and say sorry.

But this time? She’d already died once. Her heart was done with all of it.

She let out a dry laugh. “Good thing I’m not your real kid, then. Saves you the embarrassment, right?”

“What did you say?” Marshall raised his hand again, but he didn’t swing this time.

Victoria stared at him, her tone eerily calm. “If you’re all so determined to make me the villain, then fine—I’ll play along.”

This time around, she wasn’t playing the victim. She’d rather be the bad guy on purpose than suffer silently.

Whatever feelings she once had for this family, they’d been killed off, slowly and cruelly.

Marshall froze in place, clearly shaken.

“How... how can you say something like that?” He just couldn’t figure out how Victoria had turned into someone like this. She felt like a complete stranger.

“I should’ve never sent you to study overseas. Did you just learn how to be cruel and pick on your sister?” His face twisted in disappointment. “You’ve become so out of control!”

Victoria used to be his little angel—guileless and sweet. Now? She contradicted him at every turn, jealous, mean-spirited, selfish.

He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his eyes anymore.

And that was when it hit her: Clara was the daughter he treasured. Her? She was just... extra. Disposable.

Right by the hospital bed, Clara was surrounded by people fussing over her. Everyone cared, everyone worried. She didn’t even need to say a thing—just sitting there, she had their hearts.How ironic.

Victoria couldn't help but think, even when she died, she never got love like that.

She slowly stood up, brushing off her knee as if dusting away dirt that wasn't there. Her face blank, she said flatly, "Guess I shouldn't have interrupted your happy family play. I'm out."

In her past life, she'd wasted her whole damn life begging for affection, and in the end, it was the Johnsons who destroyed her. She'd already repaid them with her life. They were even.

"Stop right there!" A sharp male voice rang out.

Victoria turned and stared at the man who once used to treat her kindly—Micah Johnson. "Move."

"Who taught you to talk to your brother like that?!" he snapped, grabbing her wrist, eyes dark. This sister used to be quiet and obedient. Sure, she was manipulative and jealous, but she never talked back—until now.

Brother?

He had the nerve to call himself that?

Victoria sneered inside. Always acting high and mighty, using the 'I'm older than you' card to look righteous. Disgusting.

"Get lost. You make me sick." She shoved him hard like she’d touched trash.

Caught off guard, Micah stumbled several steps back, full of rage. "Victoria Johnson, what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"You try to kill Clara by pushing her down the stairs, nearly got her killed. And now you won't even apologize? How heartless can you be?"

Nearly killed her?

Clara had a measly scrape on her arm. Give it a couple days and it'd vanish. That’s what he called ‘nearly killed’?

Victoria let out a bitter laugh. By that logic, she’d already died a hundred times.

Micah was still the same, acting all impartial while blindly siding with Clara.

Victoria glanced over at Clara, lying in bed like some fragile princess with everyone fawning over her. She snorted, "Use your damn eyes. Does she look sick to you?"

"Either she’s an Oscar-level actress, or you’re just too brainless to see through it."

Clara had rosy cheeks, surrounded by fruit and supplements. Her scratch had already scabbed. Meanwhile, Victoria looked like death—pale and weak.

Alex Johnson’s temple vein twitched. His glare was sharp as blades. "Victoria, don’t push it. Why are you being so passive-aggressive to Clara?"

"If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t be hurt!"

He clenched his fists, fury in every line of his face. "She’s always been kind to you. Never did you wrong. You just couldn’t stand that people liked her more."

The way he looked at her, like she was some kind of monster.

Victoria knew. If Clara wasn't right there, Alex probably would’ve already hit her.

All bark, no patience when it came to protecting his precious sister.

Victoria scoffed. If she hated anyone in the Johnson family most, it was him, no contest.

"What are you even? What is this family to me? Nothing."

"You wanna pin something I didn’t do on me? Yeah, no."

She marched straight over to the hospital bed, lifted her hand, and smacked Clara across the face—hard.

With a cold smirk, she said, "See? That’s malice. Learn the difference."

Finally, she'd vented some of the fire burning inside her.Back then, before Clara Johnson—Miss Real Deal—came back, both Micah and Alex used to treat her with genuine kindness. And now? They’d all turned into executioners, stabbing her right in the heart without hesitation.

She moved too fast for anyone to stop her.

Marshall Johnson shot up from his chair, completely losing it. "Are you nuts?!"

"Why would you hit your sister?" He rushed over to the bed, gently comforting Clara. "Don’t be scared, sweetie. Daddy’s here. No one's going to hurt you while I'm around."

"This is way over the line." Micah and Alex stepped in front of the hospital bed like they were guarding some sacred relic, glaring at Victoria like she was the villain in all this.

Looking at this whole bunch acting like a united front, Victoria couldn’t help but let out a sharp laugh.

What, did they think she was some kind of monster?

In this twisted little drama, Clara’s always the innocent, untouchable angel, and the Johnsons are her loyal protectors.

Victoria frowned, not interested in wasting time arguing with a bunch of fools. She shot them a cold glance. "If any of you come messing with me again, don’t blame me for going completely crazy."

Crazy? Sure she was. And guess who pushed her there?

Clara huddled in Maxine Forsythe’s arms, covering her face, tears rolling down as she whimpered, "Did I do something wrong, sis? Why do you hate me so much?"

"Don’t call me that. I’m just an orphan with no parents," Victoria said, disgust clear in her eyes.

"Victoria..." Clara’s eyes welled up instantly, fat tears streaming down her face. She looked pitiful beyond words.

"Tsk, doesn’t acting like the poor little victim get old for you?" Victoria sneered. Since forever, this was Clara’s go-to move—and the Johnsons lapped it right up. Not giving her the chance for more crocodile tears, Victoria snapped, "If you want me gone for good, then shut your mouth."

Clara bit her lip hard, holding in whatever she had left to say.

The room fell painfully silent, the air so heavy it felt like it could suffocate someone.

"I’ll pay back every cent I’ve used from the Johnsons," Victoria said, her tone cutting cold.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Marshall was stunned at first, eyebrows furrowing. Then it clicked, and he let out a mocking snort. "Don’t forget who raised you. I must’ve been blind to raise a snake who would turn around and attack my real daughter."

Now all he felt was regret—he’d clearly spoiled Victoria way too much.

"Right, I’m just the adopted one. Never your real kid." Victoria gave a bitter chuckle.

"What father lets his young daughter rot overseas for five whole years without a word?" She clenched her fists, heart brimming with resentment as she remembered those painful days abroad.

Back then, she’d begged Marshall again and again to bring her home. He never even replied.

"You hate me?" He caught the rage in her eyes, his stare tightening as a sudden wave of unease hit him. His gaze wandered to the small hearing aid on her left ear, and for a second, he seemed lost in thought. But then the past came rushing back, and any flicker of guilt disappeared fast.

"Don’t forget whose fault that whole mess was. Sending you away was for your own good," he said coldly, eyes full of warning.

Victoria’s face went pale, like someone had dumped ice water over her head.

"I’ll move out today." She swallowed down the hate rising in her chest—these people weren’t even worth the anger.

"Mr. Johnson, from now on, we’re done. Don’t call me your daughter. We don’t owe each other anything anymore."

Everyone in the room stared at her like she’d lost her mind.In Haicheng, the Johnsons held serious clout. Just being born into their family meant you could coast as a pampered trust fund kid — the dream life for most. Yet Victoria? She actually turned her back on all of it like it was nothing.

Clara had been watching from the sidelines, eyes narrowing with calculation. "Sis, calm down, okay? Don’t say stuff you’ll regret later and fight with Dad. It’s my fault, really. I must’ve upset you somehow."

Victoria scoffed on the inside. No one could fake sweet and innocent like Clara — made her skin crawl. But after living through it once, Victoria had seen through their act. The whole family's fake as hell. And now? She wasn’t keeping her mouth shut anymore.

Expression cold as ice, she strode forward and smacked Clara right across the face. The sound was crisp and everyone flinched. Then, with zero hesitation, she grabbed Clara by the throat and snarled, “Who told you to interrupt me?”

She clenched tighter. “Try me again and I won’t be so nice next time. I’ll stay here just to piss all of you off.”

Clara’s face turned beet red, panic creeping into her wide eyes. She was choking — for real. Just when it looked like she’d pass out, Victoria let go. Around them, the family finally exhaled.

Micah and Alex stood frozen, guilt and anger twisting their faces. They’d watched Clara get slapped and couldn’t do a damn thing.

Alex exploded. “Victoria Johnson, you’ve got a death wish!” He lunged straight at her.

She dodged smoothly, then kicked him hard — no mercy at all.

Alex hit the floor with a thud, groaning in pain. The guy was done. Couldn’t even lift himself.

“Pathetic,” Victoria muttered, glancing down with a smirk.

Back in her past life, everyone in Haicheng talked like she was some entitled, cold-hearted rich girl. But no one knew how loyal she’d really been. She'd tried everything to protect this family that had never once treated her as one of their own.

Seeing the determination in her eyes, Marshall suddenly panicked. For the first time, yelling and threats weren’t enough.

“You... you really want to cut ties with me?” he asked, feeling that sinking dread. Something important was slipping away.

“Yes.” Victoria didn’t even blink. She had nothing left to prove. And with her name already off their records, she didn’t need anyone’s blessing.

“You think leaving the Johnsons means you’ll be just fine? Without my money, you’re not even eating! You better think this through.” Marshall’s laugh came out sharp and bitter.

“No worries,” Victoria said coolly. “I’m not coming back.”

“Get the hell out! Don’t even dream of stepping in here ever again!” Marshall shouted, rage boiling over as he flung the bowl beside him at her.

He was sure she wouldn’t actually go through with it. What could a seventeen-year-old girl with no backup even do? She’d come crawling back soon enough.

As the bowl shattered at her feet, Victoria didn’t even flinch.

When she was three, Marshall had brought her home. Back then, he’d been kind. But after finding Maxine and reuniting with their long-lost daughter, everything changed.

That whole father-daughter love thing? Just as broken as that bowl on the floor — crushed into pieces, past the point of saving.