"Mom, just sign the papers. Dad’s never loved you. Hanging on like this won’t change a thing."
Kenneth Sinclair tossed the divorce agreement onto the bed, his voice sharp as splintered ice.
Serena Whitmore’s eyes were bloodshot, red to the point of looking painful. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as she snatched up the papers and slapped them across her son’s face, shouting until her throat scraped raw.
"I’d rather die than sign!"
"Benjamin Sinclair can forget about being buried with that home‑wrecking woman. I’ll make sure they choke on it. She can spend the rest of her life being the other woman, never lifting her head again!"
Before she could finish, a fit of coughing cut her off.
Serena doubled over, her whole face flushed, sweat breaking out across her forehead like beads bursting from the heat.
"Mom, can you wake up for once? The one who can’t get love is the real third party. If you hadn’t barged in back then, Aunt Vivienne would’ve been with Dad already."
Yolanda Sinclair stepped closer, gently patting Serena’s back, but every word she spoke sliced straight into Serena’s chest.
Serena stared at her daughter—her beloved daughter—utter disbelief flickering across her strained face. The shock only worsened her coughing, each breath dragging like her lungs were tearing apart.
But none of it compared to the pain twisting through her heart.
"Mom, this is Dad’s last wish. Just let him and Aunt Vivienne be together. All these years she hasn’t been able to stand beside him openly—don’t you think she’s suffered enough? We can’t use morality to chain down a national hero."
Yolanda bent down to pick up the papers from the floor and set them in front of Serena again, speaking in a gentler tone.
"Get out!"
Serena shoved her away, her voice cracking into madness.
Then she snapped. Anything within reach became a weapon—whatever she could grab, she hurled at the two of them like her life depended on it.
"Get out! All of you! Get out of here!"
Kenneth dodged aside, disgust twisting his expression.
"Mom, look at yourself. You’re no different from those women in the village who scream curses all day. Aren’t you embarrassed? Aunt Vivienne’s a plant science PhD, and Dad’s got war honors. They’re the ones who match. You came from the countryside—you should know your place!"
Serena’s fury surged like a flame catching dry straw.
"Your father and Vivienne Avery stole my university acceptance letter!"
"I was the one who should’ve gone to college!"
"She took everything from me…"
Before she could finish, Kenneth Sinclair cut her off, sounding bored already.
"It's just an admission letter, Mom."
"You got in because luck happened to be on your side. How can you compare yourself to Aunt Vivienne? Even if you had gone to school back then, you wouldn't end up half as capable as she is now."
"Mom, do yourself a favor and just sign the papers. At least let my dad get what he wants. It's better for everyone. Otherwise, I'll stop paying for your treatment. Think about it."
Serena Whitmore felt as if someone had stabbed her straight through the chest. The pain made her curl over, clutching her heart as she collapsed back onto the bed. The monitor beside her snapped into rapid, frantic beeps.
Her vision darkened, and sound slipped away.
When she came to again, a woman was sitting by her bed—elegantly dressed, skin smooth and carefully tended. She looked about forty, even though she and Serena were nearly the same age.
The woman gave her a lazy sidelong glance.
"I heard you're refusing to sign?"
Serena gripped the edge of the bed, trying to push herself up. She tried several times, but her strength simply wasn’t there. All she could do was stare coldly at the woman Benjamin Sinclair had carried in his heart for a lifetime—Vivienne Avery.
"As long as I don’t sign, you’ll stay his little shadow forever—never seen, never acknowledged!"
Vivienne let out a soft laugh, flicking her bright-red nails like none of this mattered.
"Sign or don’t. Makes no difference. Men? They’re everywhere."
Serena froze. For years, Vivienne had followed Benjamin from post to post, requesting transfers just to stay near him. Wasn’t she chasing the title of Mrs. Sinclair all this time?
Vivienne laughed again, light but dripping with mockery.
"You don’t actually think I still care about Benjamin, do you?"
Serena stared at her, dazed. If she didn’t love him, why stay single all her life? Why cling to him like her world revolved around him?
Vivienne stopped laughing and shook her head, sighing softly. For a moment, there was even a hint of pity in her eyes.
"Yolanda and Kenneth—do you know who they really belong to?"
Serena Whitmore froze, completely blindsided by how Vivienne Avery suddenly dragged the conversation in that direction.
Some stray thought flickered through her mind…
Kenneth Sinclair and Yolanda Sinclair were brought back by Benjamin Sinclair from the army. He’d said they were the children of a comrade who died saving him, and since no one in that family was willing to take the twins in, he asked her to help raise them.
Back then, she had barely been married. In the blink of an eye, she had to play mother to someone else’s kids.
Honestly, she hadn’t been thrilled. But she’d swallowed every bit of her unwillingness for his sake, not wanting anyone gossiping about him. And after deciding, she’d treated those twins with all the sincerity she had.
But now… what was she hearing?
A wave of panic hit Serena Whitmore. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, her lips went pale and dry, and her breathing turned sharp and fast.
"This… this can’t be…"
Vivienne Avery’s smile only grew, sharp and smug, like a rose covered in thorns.
"Why not?"
"You really never noticed the twins look a whole lot like me?"
Darkness rushed into Serena’s vision. Those words slammed into her chest like a hammer, each one hitting harder than the last.
A sharp pain tore through her chest. Something surged up her throat, bitter and hot—then with a harsh "ugh," she spat a mouthful of blood straight onto Vivienne Avery’s white blouse.
So that was the truth.
No wonder—no matter how much she poured her heart out for those twins—whenever something involved Vivienne Avery, they always stood on Vivienne’s side.
Because all along… they were the real family.
And she, Serena Whitmore, had never been anything but an outsider.
Ha.
Benjamin Sinclair—what a cruel man you are.
Vivienne Avery never saw it coming. Serena’s blood splattered all over her, and she shrieked, jumping back in shock.
"Ah!"
"Serena Whitmore! You filthy wretch, you got my clothes dirty—are you tired of living or what!"
Right after she yelled that, a sharp slap landed on Serena’s cheek. On her already ghost‑white face, a burning red handprint bloomed instantly.
Serena staggered from the hit, then coughed up a mouthful of blood. This time, it splattered right across Vivienne Avery’s face.
Vivienne’s nose filled with the metallic stink of blood. She lowered her eyes to her designer outfit—now looking like it had been dragged through a crash site—and her fury spiked straight up her spine.
She had spent a fortune on this outfit, and today was the very first time she wore it.
But seeing Serena lying there like she was about to breathe her last, Vivienne’s mood somehow brightened, just a little.
She didn’t notice at all that the jade pendant around her neck flickered briefly, a quick pulse of light, and then dimmed again.
Vivienne curled her lips into a smile—cruel, smug, venomous.
"Serena, what’s with that face? Feeling wronged again, huh?"
"I told him I wanted to go to college, so he handed me your admission letter."
"I told him I didn’t want to deal with kids, so he sent you to raise them."
"And that little love token you gave him? Well—" she tugged the teardrop‑shaped jade pendant forward, letting it dangle in front of Serena’s eyes, "—that’s mine now too."
Maybe it was because of the blood smeared across it, but the once‑clear green jade now showed thin red veins spidering across its surface, weaving together like a strange blooming flower—beautiful in a chilling, uncanny way.
Serena stared at the pendant she hadn’t seen in years, disbelief tearing through her.
That pendant had been her grandmother’s last keepsake, meant to protect her. Her mother had made her wear it ever since she was little.
When she got engaged to Benjamin Sinclair, he insisted she give it to him as a token of their future.
But not long after, Benjamin claimed he lost it on a mission.
He hadn’t lost it at all—he gave it to Vivienne.
Benjamin Sinclair… how could you do something like this?
“What am I to you in your eyes, huh?! What am I?!”
Vivienne Avery watched Serena Whitmore’s shaking face and the triumph in her own chest only grew. But she wasn’t finished. She leaned in closer, her breath brushing Serena’s ear, and whispered a few soft, vicious words.
Serena’s eyes flew wide in shock.
Vivienne’s lips curled. She reached out and yanked the oxygen tube straight off Serena’s face.
“Serena Whitmore, if you run into me in your next life, do yourself a favor and stay the hell away! Hahaha!”
Serena’s breath turned ragged, each inhale scraping her chest like a heavy stone pressing down. But the second she caught that cruel smirk on Vivienne’s face, something snapped inside her. She didn’t know where the strength came from—she shot up from the bed, grabbed Vivienne in a desperate lock, and hurled both of them toward the window—
A scream tore through the ward.
“Ah—!”
“Oh God! Someone jumped!”
“Go get a doctor, hurry!”
“Beep. Host detected.”
“Beep. Host vitals gone. Initiating rebirth system. Progress at 1%… 5%… 10%… 30%… 80%… 100%.”
“System activation complete.”
