"You’re the sturdy one in this house, not your third sister. So you’re the one going to the countryside. Your sister’s job stays with her."
"Don’t worry. We’ll pull some strings and find you something soon. Once there’s an opening, you’ll come back to the city."
"Why aren’t you talking? What’s that supposed to mean? Got complaints? Think we’re playing favorites? Why can’t you be a bit more understanding?"
Mrs. Sinclair stared at her silent daughter, her face darkening by the second, anger simmering in her eyes.
As the head of the family, she’d already softened her tone to reason with her. She didn’t expect this girl to be so stubborn, and her patience snapped.
Just then, Jade Sinclair suddenly lifted her head. Seeing her mother looking decades younger, disbelief punched through her chest.
She glanced around. This… this was the old house from her teenage years.
Could it be… she really came back?
Mrs. Sinclair’s temper finally burst. "Jade, don’t you dare fight with your third sister over this! Going to the countryside—whether you want it or not—you’re going! Tomorrow I’ll sign you up myself!"
The moment Jade heard those words, everything clicked. She had truly returned to that exact moment in time—the moment her family forced her to leave for the countryside.
Back then, her mother had said almost the same thing. Her wishes never mattered.
"Mom, if you force me to go, then I’ll report your precious daughter, Fiona Sinclair. We can both go down together. I’m done being the one you all walk over. If you don’t see me as family, then I don’t need this family either."
Mrs. Sinclair exploded on the spot.
"You—You ungrateful thing! A traitor in my own house! Report? You dare talk about reporting your sister? I’ll beat you to death today—"
She raised her hand and swung for Jade’s face.
But this time, Jade wasn’t that meek, beaten girl from her last life.
She twisted aside, dodging the slap, then lunged for the nearby table. Without a word, she flipped it over with all her strength.
Everything on it crashed to the floor. The pot of porridge burst open on impact, spraying across the room. A sticky, warm smell filled the air.
Mrs. Sinclair froze for a heartbeat, then her fury detonated.
"My gosh, girl, did water get into your brain? I swear I'll beat the nonsense out of you—"
She charged after Jade Sinclair, hand already raised.
But Jade wasn’t the meek kid she used to be.
While dodging, she brushed past whatever she could reach, knocking things down without even looking.
If she couldn’t live comfortably, then nobody in this house would either—
A cabinet crashed to the floor, glass shattered everywhere, and the whole room looked like a storm had torn through it.
The Sinclair family rushed over at the noise. Seeing the mess, every one of them froze on the spot.
All they could think was: Their fourth girl must’ve lost her mind.
Once Jade realized there was nothing left worth smashing, she instantly switched faces. She scrunched up her expression, burst into tears, and bolted outside, crying, "My mom’s gonna kill me! She’s so biased—won’t send Fiona, insists on forcing me to go instead!"
She ran down the alley bawling, hair sticking out everywhere, looking like someone who’d just been wronged by heaven itself.
Mrs. Sinclair stared at the wrecked room. Her vision went dark, and she was so furious it felt like her lungs might burst. "You ungrateful girl! If you walk out that door, don’t you dare come back!"
Neighbors poked their heads out one after another.
"Hey, Charles’s wife, what’s going on with your fourth girl? Why’s she yelling like she’s about to do something stupid? Even if you have to discipline her, you shouldn’t go that far. She’s a grown girl now. And she’s always been pretty sensible—"
Mrs. Sinclair cut them off, snapping, "Sensible? Her? She’s a thankless brat! She smashed everything in the house into bits!"
"Heavens above, how did I end up with such a heartless child—"
Thinking about all the ruined belongings, Mrs. Sinclair nearly fainted from the pain of it.
That girl had actually dared to tear the house apart!
Just wait till she came back—Mrs. Sinclair was dead set on breaking her legs.
The neighbors exchanged glances, confused.
Something about this whole situation… didn’t sound quite right.
Everyone in the neighborhood knew this: the fourth Sinclair girl had always been the steady, quiet one. Whatever chore popped up in the house, big or small, it somehow ended up on her shoulders.
The neighbors had seen it with their own eyes for years.
So now… had the Sinclairs finally pushed this honest, soft‑spoken girl to her breaking point?
Before anyone could whisper about it, Mrs. Sinclair slammed the door so hard it echoed down the narrow lane, then stormed back inside without a word.
The folks next door could only stare at each other, clueless about what had just happened.
—
Jade Sinclair slipped out of the alley and wandered toward the nearby Gongyuan Park, not really sure where she was going. She found an empty bench tucked behind a patch of overgrown shrubs and sank down, trying to settle the chaos spinning in her head.
A warm, sticky breeze brushed across her face, and the realization hit her all over again—she had really come back.
This was the moment everything had gone wrong in her last life. At this very point in time, her biased mother had forced her to leave for the countryside to “settle” with the production team, while her third sister, Fiona Sinclair—who was the one supposed to go—took over the job their mother had lined up as if it were only natural.
Back then, no one in the family cared how she lived once she was sent off. Even the two hundred yuan the state gave as a placement allowance had been pocketed by them without a blink.
To make things worse, the production team they registered her with was ridiculously remote—poor as dirt, with barely any rations, no subsidies, nothing to fall back on.
Life there was grinding and joyless.
The only blessing came the following year, when the college entrance exam was reinstated.
She’d work all day for work points, then study under a dim oil lamp at night, pushing herself until she could barely keep her eyes open.
And somehow, through sheer grit, she made it—she got into Qinghua University.
She’d run home clutching her admission letter, full of excitement, only to have Fiona snatch it away and claim it as her own.
She had shouted, cried, fought back with everything she had… and her parents’ response was to lock her in a small room like she was the one who’d done wrong.
Later, Leonard Foster heard the news and rushed over to get her out.
He’d confessed then, all earnest and sincere, saying that whether she made it to college or not, he would still marry her.
Faced with the earnest affection of her childhood sweetheart, her heart wavered for a moment, yet the dream of going to college still burned the brightest in her chest.
But when Leonard Foster showed up at her door to propose, her father smashed his leg in a fit of rage.
Seeing him lying there, injured because of her, left her torn with guilt and a strange sort of warmth. In the end, she agreed to marry him.
The only condition her family gave, though, was that the university spot had to go to her third sister, Fiona Sinclair.
She hesitated for a long time, but Leonard kept comforting her, saying, “With grades like yours, you can try again next year. I’ll do everything I can to support you in school then.”
And just like that, she married him.
Because of his injury, they didn’t consummate the marriage for a long while.
By the time Leonard recovered, he was suddenly called back to the army and rushed off in a hurry.
As for her plan to continue studying—there was no chance.
His mother had a stroke and became bedridden, and all the caregiving fell straight on her shoulders.
Day after day, endless chores swallowed her whole.
Every time she so much as picked up a book, someone in the Foster family would jump in to scold her as if they had rehearsed it.
With all the chores piled up, she barely had a second to even turn a page.
The next year when she tried to sit the college entrance exam again, Leonard’s mother got worse and had to be hospitalized.
The third year, her exam admission slip was “accidentally” torn to shreds by her sister‑in‑law.
The fourth year, right before the exam, she slipped in the kitchen and broke her leg.
Because she couldn’t get timely treatment, the injury left her permanently disabled.
After that, the thought of taking the exam again faded completely.
The mountain of chores in the Foster household left her gasping for air, not to mention that she also had to take care of the pair of “orphans” Leonard had brought home.
She’d been limping for years, and the weaker her body got, the more fragile her heart became. In the Foster household, that just made her even easier to dismiss, like she was worth less than a broom leaning in the corner.
She had thought about joining her husband on base before, but Leonard Foster always dodged her with one excuse after another.
By the eighth year, she finally broke. Mrs. Foster’s constant yelling, Mr. Foster smashing things and splitting her scalp—she couldn’t stand another second. She ran off on her own, heading straight for the military compound, ready to cut ties with Leonard once and for all.
But the moment she reached the gate, she froze. There was her long‑absent husband, and right next to him… her third sister, Fiona Sinclair.
Passing soldiers greeted Fiona with a cheerful “Sister‑in‑law,” and called her “Commander’s wife.”
The words slammed into Jade Sinclair like a bolt of lightning—Fiona was the sister‑in‑law now? Then what did that make her, the woman who had married Leonard in broad daylight with proper rites?
Just as Jade gathered herself to march over and demand an explanation, she heard the two of them chatting sweetly about their kids.
Only then did she realize—those twins she had raised for five exhausting years… they were the bloodline of those two traitors.
She’d been living like a servant in the Foster home, her health worn down to nothing. And now she understood—eight years of devotion had been nothing but a cruel joke.
Not only had she scrubbed floors and cooked meals for the Fosters, she had even raised the children of her cheating husband and her own sister.
Rage tore through her chest; her breath jammed in her throat. She collapsed on the spot, choked to death by fury.
She never expected to open her eyes again in another chance at life.
Hah. Even the heavens must’ve thought her grievance too great to ignore.
Leonard Foster, Fiona Sinclair—and every last person in the Foster and Sinclair families—you’d better keep your eyes open. I’m coming to settle every debt you owe me.
