I Died Once, Now I Cost Them 100 Million

In the macabre tales of the living dead, I was a fake heiress. To bring me back to life, my parents mortgaged their health, my brother sacrificed his lifespan, and even my fiancé pawned off his entire fortune. This time, I learned my lesson. I wouldn't be like before. When my parents favored the true heiress, I chose understanding. When my brother, swayed by her slander, wrongly accused me, I simply bowed my head and admitted fault. I even walked in on her and my fiancé in a drunken embrace, and I calmly handed over my wedding dress and engagement. After all, in my past life, they hated nothing more than my constant arguing and fighting over these things. But when I truly stopped fighting, they grew restless, anxious. “Rina, don’t be like this to us. You can have anything you want.” “Just please, come back to how you used to be…” They pleaded over and over. I didn’t ask for much, considering their current predicament. I only requested a hundred million dollars. 1. The biting scent of disinfectant shot straight to my brain. A cacophony of voices buzzed around me, making my head throb. I opened my eyes to a blinding white. Instantly, several magnified faces swam into view. My father clutched his chest, coughing violently, as if trying to tear his lungs out. My mother’s cheeks were flushed crimson, her forehead slick with cold sweat, her palms scorching hot to the touch. My once vibrant brother sported a shock of disheveled white hair. He was barely in his twenties, yet his hair was completely white, his face shadowed by enormous dark circles, making him look like he’d just escaped a refugee camp. The most bizarre was Henry. The former prince of the city’s elite, who wouldn't be caught dead in anything less than bespoke tailoring, now wore a pilled white shirt that looked like a bargain bin special from a discount store. “Rina! You’re finally awake!” My mother cried, snot and tears streaming down her face, her scalding tears splattering onto my hand. “The psychic was right! As long as we were willing to pay the price, we could call your soul back!” They babbled on, tripping over each other’s words. To resurrect me, my parents had fallen gravely ill, their health permanently damaged. My brother had shaved sixty years off his life, his hair turning white overnight. Henry had squandered his family fortune, left penniless. It sounded truly touching. As if bringing me back to life was their lifelong pursuit. I looked at their overjoyed faces, my heart utterly still. If they loved me so much, why did they drive me to my death in my previous life? The ocean in my dying moments last time had been too cold; it had frozen my heart solid. I tried to twist my parched lips into a smile, but my facial muscles felt stiff, unresponsive. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. Trusting them would be like believing pigs could fly. … For the first month after I was discharged and returned home, my family acted as if they’d rip out their own hearts and present them to me on a platter. At dinner, my mother piled every piece of meat onto my plate. While watching TV, my brother shoved the remote into my hand, letting me watch whatever I wanted. Even Fiona, the true heiress who was always doted on, became invisible in this house. The other day, Fiona merely glanced my way, and my mother immediately bristled. “What are you looking at! If it weren’t for you, Rina wouldn’t have suffered so much! Get back to your room!” Fiona flinched, tears welling in her eyes, but she dared not let them fall. This scene was truly ironic. In my past life, ever since Fiona came back, I was always the one being yelled at like that. Her masterful acting had everyone dancing to her tune. She threw herself into the ocean, then claimed I pushed her. I tried to explain, but no one believed me. My parents pointed fingers, calling me ungrateful, threatening to kick me out. My brother, to avenge Fiona, hired thugs to break my legs. Henry was the cruelest. He said he wanted me to experience Fiona’s despair, then had me thrown into that very ocean. “Rina can swim; she won’t drown. It’ll just teach her a lesson.” He watched coldly from the shore. But he forgot, how could someone with broken legs swim? The icy seawater flooded my nasal passages, my lungs felt like they would burst. I struggled desperately, but could only watch myself sink. Until the moment I lost consciousness, no hand ever reached for me. Now, this show of deep affection—who was it for? … The false peace couldn’t last. Human nature’s inertia is immense; the slightest relaxation and it snaps back to its original state. At the dinner table, six dishes, two soups. The last piece of sweet and sour pork remained on the platter. It was my father’s signature dish, and my favorite. Fiona kept her head down, picking at her white rice, like a wronged daughter-in-law. Suddenly, a single tear plinked into her bowl. The sound was soft, but piercing in the quiet dining room. She said nothing, just quietly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and continued to stuff rice into her mouth. That look of enduring humiliation, it was truly heartbreaking to witness. My father’s eating slowed. He looked at Fiona’s pitiful display, his brows furrowed. Almost an unconscious movement, he picked up the piece of pork that was meant for me, twisted his wrist, and placed it in Fiona’s bowl. “Why are you crying? Have some meat.” The action was fluid, as natural as breathing. Only after he finished did he suddenly snap back to reality. His chopsticks froze mid-air, and the expression on his face solidified. My mother and brother also froze, their gazes darting between me and that piece of pork. Fiona bit her lip, the piece of pork glaringly obvious against the white rice. She timidly glanced at me, whispering, “Rina, you have it. I’m not hungry…” Dead silence descended on the dining table. Everyone held their breath, waiting for me to react. If this were my past life, I would have already smashed my bowl. I would have hysterically demanded to know why my father was so biased, why he always picked for her, never for me. I would have pointed at Fiona and called her out for her fakery. Then everyone would storm off, and I would once again be branded “immature” and “narrow-minded.” But now, I just found it amusing. See? This was their so-called “change of heart.” All it took was two crocodile tears from Fiona, and their scales would immediately tip. I put down my chopsticks, pulled out a napkin, and dabbed my mouth. A perfectly composed smile spread across my face. “Fiona really is too thin. She should eat more to nourish herself.” My tone was even, devoid of any sarcasm. After saying this, I even picked up a stalk of greens and put it in my mouth, chewing with evident enjoyment. My parents visibly relaxed, but then, a hint of awkwardness and guilt crept onto their faces. It was a complex expression. Relieved I hadn’t made a scene, yet also finding my reaction unsettling. Too agreeable. Too agreeable to be the spoiled Rina they knew. “Rina, darling, your father didn’t mean it like that…” My father tried to explain, his wrinkles deepening. I cut him off. “Dad, please eat. The food will get cold.” I lowered my head and continued eating, blocking out their scrutinizing stares. After dinner, I went back to my room and picked up a book. The door slammed open. My brother burst in, seething, with a meek-looking Fiona trailing behind him. Fiona had her sleeves rolled up, revealing a purplish bruise on her wrist. “Rina! Have you been bullying Fiona again?!” My brother’s roar made my eardrums throb. “Did you do that to Fiona’s arm? I knew you wouldn’t settle down so easily! You pretend to be magnanimous, but you’re secretly underhanded. When did you become so vicious?!” Familiar recipe, familiar flavor. No evidence needed, no investigation required. If Fiona was hurt, the culprit was always me. Fiona hid behind my brother, stammering, “Bro, don’t blame Rina. I just bumped myself accidentally… it’s not Rina’s fault…” This tactic of feigned humility, she had mastered it perfectly. My brother grew even angrier. “Don’t cover for her! Besides her, who else in this family would target you?” After his tirade, he seemed to suddenly remember something. Remembered whose sake his white hair was for, remembered that I was someone who had “died once.” The anger on his face froze, and he forcefully suppressed his rage, switching to a more serious, advising tone: “Rina, darling, I’m not trying to yell at you. You and Fiona are sisters, you should stick together. Mom and Dad and I have already talked to her, had a heart-to-heart. She won’t target you anymore, so you don’t need to be defensive.” Looking at his hypocritical face, I felt nothing but revulsion. Before he could finish, I stood up. Facing him and Fiona, I bowed deeply. A ninety-degree bow. “I’m sorry. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have appeared before Fiona, shouldn’t have breathed the same air. I promise, I’ll stay ten feet away from her from now on, so she never feels uncomfortable.” My tone was flat, like an emotionless robot. Admitting every baseless accusation, my sincerity was impeccable. My brother, prepared with a belly full of lectures, found them choked in his throat, his face turning beet-red. He opened his mouth, about to say I didn’t need to be so submissive. I had already straightened up, expressionlessly closing my bedroom door. The door clicked shut right in front of his nose, completely cutting off his bewildered face. … Soon, it was Henry’s birthday, though this year his birthday celebration was comically meager. To resurrect me, the once lavish Henry, now couldn’t even afford a decent private room. The cheap disco ball in the main hall made my eyes spin, and on the tables were a few bottles of watered-down liquor. His sycophantic friends were still forced to praise him, calling him “devoted” and a “reformed rake.” I found the noise grating, so I excused myself to touch up my makeup and headed towards the lounge at the end of the hallway. My hand had just touched the doorknob when strange sounds drifted out. The rustling of fabric, and gasps stifled with great effort. The door wasn’t locked. I gently pushed, and the heavy, solid wood door cracked open. The scene through the gap was even more blinding than the lights in the main hall. Fiona was sitting on Henry’s lap. Her already short cocktail dress was bunched up to her waist, her two dazzlingly white legs tightly wrapped around Henry’s waist. Henry’s hand was buried beneath her dress. Both their faces were flushed, sweat trickling down Henry’s temples. The air was thick with a cloyingly nauseating sweetness. Fiona arched her head back, her neck forming a delicate curve, a seductive moan escaping her lips: “Henry, darling…” Her voice was a winding, melodious whisper. I stood at the doorway, watching this tableau, feeling utterly nothing. I even had the leisure to evaluate Fiona’s figure. She certainly had more curves than my recently resurrected, sickly self. No wonder Henry couldn’t resist. My past self, if I had witnessed this, would probably have felt the sky collapsing. I would have stormed in, splashed champagne in their faces, dragged Fiona out by her hair to expose her. I would have cried, screamed, demanded to know why Henry betrayed me. But now, I just found the scene repulsive. So repulsive that I had no desire to even step inside. Perhaps it was the draft from the doorway. Henry jolted, his hazy eyes snapping into focus. The moment he saw me, all the color drained from his face. The expression was as if he’d seen a ghost. “Wil… Rina?!” He fumbled to push Fiona off him. The force was surprising; he sent Fiona tumbling off the sofa, her forehead hitting the coffee table corner with a thud. Fiona shrieked, clutching her forehead, looking at Henry in disbelief. But Henry paid her no mind. He scrambled towards me, practically crawling, trying to grab my hand. “Rina! Let me explain!” “It’s not what you think! I was drunk… it was her! She seduced me!” He babbled incoherently, trembling all over. The cheap shirt, drenched in sweat, clung to his body, making him look utterly pathetic. I stepped back half a pace, avoiding his outstretched hand. As if avoiding a bag of wet garbage just pulled from a bin. Henry’s hand froze mid-air. He stared intently at my face, trying to find even a hint of anger, jealousy, or sorrow. Alas, he was destined to be disappointed. I was calm. This calmness terrified him. More than if I had a knife in my hand. “Rina, yell at me.” His voice trembled, his eyes bloodshot. “Hit me, slap me! Just don’t look at me like this… please, don’t look at me like this!” I ignored his outburst. I lowered my head, opened my purse, and slowly pulled out a red velvet box from a hidden compartment. Click. The box opened. Inside lay the diamond engagement ring. Then, I took out a pre-written letter of disengagement, placing it neatly on the nearby coffee table, along with the ring. Right where Fiona had just cut her head. The fresh crimson bloodstain, reflecting the cold gleam of the diamond, had a morbid beauty. “Happy birthday, Henry.” I looked at him, my tone as gentle as if catching up with an old friend. “I was wondering what gift would be appropriate. Since you’re so fond of Fiona, then I’ll grant your wish. Consider this letter of disengagement my present to you both.” Henry was stunned. He stared at the letter as if it were some monstrous beast. “No… I don’t want it…” He shook his head desperately, tears and snot blurring his face. “I squandered my family fortune for you! I put my life on the line for you! Rina, how could you do this to me?!” “Just because of this one time? Just because of this one accident?!” He roared, the veins in his neck bulging. “I told you I was drunk! Can’t you be understanding?!” How laughable. This was the man who claimed to love me to his bones. One moment entangled with his prospective sister-in-law, the next resorting to emotional blackmail. His so-called deep affection, in the face of desire, was less than a used tissue. Seeing my silence, Henry suddenly lunged at me, embracing me like a madman. His strength was immense, squeezing my bones painfully. The stench of alcohol, perfume, and sweat churned my stomach. “Rina, please just make a scene! Please?!” His eyes were bloodshot, roaring in my ear: “You used to be so jealous! You used to throw a fit if I just spoke to another woman! Hit me, yell at me, anything! Just don’t be so calm, I’m scared!” “Like this… it makes me feel like you don’t care about me at all!” I let him hold me, my hands hanging at my sides, offering no response. When he finally tired himself out, panting, I raised my hand and gently patted his back. My movements were soft, like comforting a rabid stray dog. “Henry, you’re overthinking it.” My voice was gentle, carrying a hint of “understanding” consideration. “Men will be men, playing the field is normal. Fiona is young and beautiful, and she’s my sister. Keeping things in the family is fine, why would I be angry?” “I respect your choices, and I understand your needs.” Every word was like a blunt knife, carving into him. Henry’s body stiffened. He let go, stumbling back two steps, his eyes hollow as he stared at me. “You… what did you say?” “I said, I don’t mind.” I smiled, even helping him straighten his disheveled collar. “As long as you’re happy.” Henry utterly collapsed. He crouched on the floor, clutching his head, letting out animalistic whimpers. The despair was a hundred times more intense than when he went bankrupt. Because he realized, no matter what he did, the Rina who used to cry and laugh, whose eyes were solely for him, was never coming back. All he had bought back with his entire fortune was a soulless shell. Fiona huddled in the corner, trembling. She had originally wanted to see me make a fool of myself, to watch me become hysterical. But now, she only felt cold. A bone-deep chill that shot from her soles to the crown of her head. I didn’t spare them another glance. I turned and walked towards the door. My hand paused on the doorknob. I looked back, giving that pathetic pair a perfectly poised smile. “Oh, right. The guests outside are still waiting for cake.” “You two carry on. Just keep it down. Don’t disturb everyone.” With that, I thoughtfully closed the door behind me. Following the soft click of the lock. Henry’s heartbroken roar echoed from inside, along with the loud crash of something being smashed.