Chapter 3

Before Leo was born, I was cherished like a little princess.

They bought me pretty dresses and took me to amusement parks.

They would wrap their arms around me, whispering that I was the sweetest, kindest little girl in the world.

Everything changed the day the hospital confirmed Mom was carrying a boy.

I remember running home with an academic award, eager for praise.

Mom didn't even glance at it. Dad gave a distracted grunt and slid the certificate under a boiling pot of soup, letting grease splatter all over the paper.

"Honey, you've done so well," Dad beamed, looking at Mom. "You're the savior of our family line."

Mom rested her hand on her swollen belly, glowing with pride.

I timidly stepped closer. "Mom, I..."

She shoved my hand off her sleeve with a scowl, rolling her eyes. "Get out of my face! What good are high grades? Look at Mrs. Smith's kid—already bringing home paychecks! Meanwhile, we keep pouring money into you."

"If you had any sense, you'd start bringing money home early so we'd have a reason to appreciate you."

Her venom terrified me. I hid in my bedroom, sobbing quietly into my pillow.

Through the thin wall, muffled whispers drifted in.

"She’s getting older. If you talk to her like that, she’ll hold a grudge."

"I put food in her belly and clothes on her back! What's wrong with saying a few words? She only exists to serve her brother anyway."

"All right, all right, don't get worked up. Think of the baby."

Their voices faded. Back then, I couldn't understand what she meant by "only exists to serve her brother."

When Leo was born, I went to the hospital to see him. He was fair, chubby, and so precious.

I scrubbed my hands repeatedly before daring to reach out and touch his cheek, only for Grandma to slap my arm away.

"Flora! What do you think you're doing? Don't you know how filthy your hands are?"

Her voice was shockingly loud. I jerked my hand back and stumbled backward, hugging my backpack.

Leo started wailing from the noise, and Grandma pinned the blame entirely on me.

"You little jinx! It's all your fault! If my grandson catches anything, I'll skin you alive!"

Dad shoved me out into the hallway, while Mom muttered something inside that I couldn't hear.

People bustled past in the crowded hospital corridor, leaving me entirely alone, clutching my backpack as I walked all the way home.

When I finally woke up, I was in a grand bedroom inside the Bailey estate.

Old Mr. Bailey sat in an armchair, watching me intently before instructing a maid to bring me warm soup.

My eyes widened in terror, and I scrambled backward.

A warm gush of blood suddenly poured from my nose, staining the crisp white sheets crimson.

The Bailey family held immense power; if they wanted to do something to me, running was impossible.

He seemed to sense my sheer panic. His heavily wrinkled face softened into an awkward, gentle smile, and he told the staff to bring medicine.

"Flora, I know you are very, very sick," he said softly. "I only ask... when you pass, could you donate your heart to my granddaughter? She desperately needs one to live."

"You can ask for anything you want. I will give it to you."