A frail figure sat slumped against the dusty wall of an old, dilapidated building, a fat rat staring at her from not too far away.

The only thing Patricia Newton had to keep her warm—other than the flimsy rags and potato sack on her body—was a used plastic bag she stole from an alleyway dumpster.

Still, that was already a lot more than she had a few days ago. She was grateful that the homeless old lady, who often share leftovers she scavenged from restaurants, snacks and coffee shops, had the heart to give her the customized sack as well as some thread and a needle after Her death, at the condition that Patricia helped bury her old carcass.

Her mind had gone back to the scarce moments of happiness she'd enjoyed thanks to the old lady she grew to regard as her own grandmother, when two distinct pairs of footsteps echoed from a lower level of the building.

Patricia paid no mind to it. Squatters often came and went in places like this one.

All she prayed for, as her bony fingers tremblingly brought the stinking material over her shoulders in a laughable attempt at warming herself up a little from the freezing winter breeze entering through the giant openings in the walls, was for whoever they were to let her stay here quietly.

Patricia had spent countless nights cuccooned against dumpsters, under bridges, and even on bus stops during heavy downpours before. However, today she didn't feel like she would be able to face an entire night of snow.

"I told you I'd get the ***** to cough up the rest of the money, didn't I?"

Because the building was mostly empty, all little sounds were greatly amplified. Consequently, the boastful voice of the man made its way to Patricia's ears with no difficulty.

Patricia, whose swollen eyes had begun to lose focus as they stared at the starry sky, widened slightly. Her ears perked up while her body stiffened.

A throaty laugh resounded in response to the old man's words.

An unusual chill ran down Patricia's spine.

"Are you looking for a compliment? If so, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. It's not like your daughter was that hard to manipulate. A little coaxing sufficed to get her to eat from anybody's palm."

"You would know," came a dry reply. Patricia guessed the older man was displeased at the reminder that the ***** in question was his own daughter.

Patricia slowly got out from under her cover. This place was infested with pests of all sorts.

She stopped moving.

A light shh was heard shortly after.

Some time later, the same dry voice resumed:

"After all, you were married to her for nearly five years."

Just like she'd predicted, as long as she was careful, the two men downstairs would disregard the noises she made as that of scurrying rodents.

"To think you managed to hide her lovers from her this entire time. You even got her to pay compensation for damaging your reputation at the time of your divorce, all whilst keeping your innocent image intact in her besotted brain."

From the staircase, Patricia saw the way the old man shook his head in bitterness after speaking these words.

Her remaining teeth grinded in her mouth.

Her hearing wasn't playing tricks on her.  The two men were indeed Jeffrey Newton, Patricia's biological father, and Damien McGuire... her ex-husband.

And they were without a doubt talking about her.

Patricia was the ***** they were referring to!

She was the brainless idiot who'd paid her own cheating husband to divorce her because she'd been so in love with the bastard that she failed to realize the idiocy of her own actions. She only saw the damage her plummeting reputation had on her successful husband's image and failed to realize the trap that had been set for her. As a result, she'd jumped into it head first!

From the ongoing conversation, Patricia was able to piece the most crucial pieces of information together. And the outcome was a nauseating truth:

Jeffrey was aware that Damien had been cheating on her before they even got married.

Instead of telling her, like any father would, he decided to confront him about it and blackmailed him into giving him shares in his newly established company. Jeffrey was no idiot. He knew Damien would have no other choice but to acquiesce to his demands if he wished to keep milking the money cow that was Patricia Gorshkova.

It hasn't even crossed Jeffrey's mind to get Damien to let go of his cheating ways after the marriage. Instead, he'd advise Damien on how to keep his extra-marital affairs from reaching Patricia's ears.

In fact, he went a step further by guiding this son-in-law of his as how to get his stupid wife to trust him blindly even if the truth of his infidelity was to ever come out.

"No longer a Gorshkova, no longer a McGuire, no longer a wealthy woman... Patricia must be feeling sorry for herself right now. That is, if she isn't already dead. By now, stray animals must have taken care of her corpse for us. Hahaha!"

The back and forth continued with absolute nonchalance. The reminisced about the wrongdoings committed against her as if talking about the weather.

Patricia couldn't take it any longer. She reached her limits upon hearing her bastard of a father narrating how he'd successfully stripped her bare from the little money she had left after the divorce through the use of a con artist, whom he personally put on her path and had her believe she found and hired by herself.

"This stupid ***** will tell the Gorshkovas the truth about the both of you."

Patricia herself didn't know how she descended the flights of stairs so fast considering her physical condition. She spit those words with frightening determination.

The two man stared at her with equally shocked expressions. They hadn't expected to see her here of all places. For all they knew, considering the lavish lifestyle she'd enjoyed all this time, she should have been dead already.

Had Damien known his ex-wife would be here today, he wouldn't have decided to bring the old fart to see the location of the restaurant he'd promised to let him manage in the near future today of all days.

"Patty!" Damien called out. It was instinctive.

He used the same gentle yet chastising tone, eyes looking at her with a mixture of pain, disappointment and hopefulness.

That was the look he'd give her any time he felt like she was getting out of hand. Any time he felt he was starting to lose the control he had over her.

And each time, she would give in to him, feeling as though she was the one who'd wronged him, despite it being the other way around. Patricia would even ask him if he needed any more money immediately after.

Unexpectedly, the Patricia he'd come to make fun of behind her back because of her docile and easy to coax nature didn't react in the expected way this time around.

This Patricia was someone he couldn't recognize. And it wasn't merely related to her repulsive appearance that couldn't be associated with her goddesses-like appearance from a year ago.

This Patricia didn't even have the decency to respond to the inhumane effort he was making to gaze at her current self longingly, with a positive reaction.

She merely stared at them with venom in her those eyes that now resembled the eyes of dead fish you could find at the market.

The worse part was that she actually spat on the ground when he called out to her, rejecting all the past happy memories associated to the nickname as she did so.

"Let's see who'll be sorry once you find yourselves right back to where you belong, with a bankrupt company and no ally to get you out of the hole you yourselves dug!"

With that, she turned around and ran out of the building.

Jeffrey stared at her retreating back with mouth agape.

Had the little ***** finally lost it?! She could ruin their plans if she opened her trap!

He worked far too hard to reach this far for everything to be snatched from him all over again.

"What are you wanting for?"

Damien's gentle demeanour was replaced by a frightening aura. His big, bloodshot eyes stared at the entrance of the building with unconcealed hatred.

Jeffrey gulped.

It was his first time seeing this side of the man.

"Stop her!"

At his command, Jeffrey chased after his own daughter like a well trained dog. Jeffrey knew what he had to do from the tone employed alone.

"Come back here!" Jeffrey shouted after Patricia. He was already at an advanced age. With years of sedentary lifestyle and a bear belly, even walking was a task for him. As a result, he was already breathless after running only a few steps.

Alas, Patricia wasn't in a better physical condition than him. The strength she displayed earlier was fully exhausted. Her malnutritioned and wounded body was too weak to carry her at too fast a speed.

Eventually, the old man caught up to her. He grabbed her her by the shoulder, squeezing tight to ensure she wouldn't escape from him.

Patricia struggled out of his grip.

"Let go! Let go! I'll tell the truth to my family. I'll tell the truth to everyone. You will wish yo—"

Just then, she found herself falling backwards. Before she could comprehend what had happened, a car collided against her.

Through the buzzing, she could make out the sound of vehicles coming to a stop.

"She...She came out of nowhere and threw herself on my car."

Jeffrey stood frozen in place. He watched the motionless body Of his daughter without a word.

Then, his wide eyes started changing into the form of a crescent moon. Judging by the amount of blood, it was highly unlikely that she'd survive the ordeal.

He stepped forward. He pushed his way through the increasing amount of people gathering around them to get to Patricia.

He kneeled beside her and started crying out into the night.

"My daughter, my poor daughter! How could you commit suicide like that? I know life hasn't been easy for you recently but..."

He covered his face with his thick hands. The smile on his lips could only be seen from below. It could only be seen by Patricia.

"Ah! So it was a suicide attempt!" someone exclaimed.

When a hand squeezed his shoulder, Jeffrey forced himself to reign in his contentment and resumed lamenting as if her death had already been confirmed and she was ready for the rites.

"You were still so young. So what if you cheated on your husband and gambled all your money away? As I father, didn't I tell you I would always be there for you? Why did you have to run away from home? Why?!"

He pounded his fists on the asphalt.

"Your mental health was already not good.... Your mother and I are bad parents. We should have kept an eye on you when the doctor showed concern for your mental health. Forgive us for not being competent enough. We simply thought it was a result of the divorce..."

As he continued to defame his daughter while gaining the citizen's sympathy for the rest of the family and himself, Patricia's unfocused gaze narrowed slightly.

Through gasps amongst the people standing by their side, she saw the figure of her ex-husband exiting the building they were in minutes prior.

Damien McGuire stood straight. He didn't even look her way despite witnessing the entire scene of her accident—and probably devising it.

When she breathed her last breath, the last thing Patricia heard was the cacophony of the intermixed sounds of Jeffrey's unending one-man show, the sirens of police cars and ambulances in the distance, and the unfavourable comments of bystanders, who'd created their own personal versions of her life story, based on the words of the man that called himself her father for everyone to hear and those of the people who'd recognized her—and had no qualms recounting all they heard about her online.

Patricia sneered, a single drop of tear mixing with blood as it fell out of her eyes, onto the road which was now covered in a light sheet of white.

In this life, Patricia had truly been a stupid *****.

Patricia woke up with a splitting headache. Her body was numb.

As her eyes grew accustomed to the sunlight illuminating her childhood bedroom, jumbled fragments of memories slowly returned to her.

Not only did she recollect the events of her life before her death, but she also recalled that this wasn't the first time she was opening her eyes to find herself in this place.

The first time she woke up, her entire body hurt. It felt almost like it was about to break into pieces.

Her eyelids were heavy. It took her a considerable amount of effort to open her eyes.

When she finally did, what greeted her wasn't the dull-coloured walls of a hospital ward, nor was it anything that one would associate to an area of the afterlife.

Instead, she found herself in the room she had back when she still lived with the Gorshkova family.

Patricia blinked her eyes multiple times. Seeing how nothing changed, she resorted to rubbing them.

This was surely a dream. How could she be in her childhood bedroom otherwise?

Even if she had yet to look around, the bedsheets, wallpaper and study desk before her indicated that decoration was the same as it was until her 16th birthday.

Maybe it was a hallucination induced by excessive blood loss?

"She's awake."

The voice that said that was cold and distant.

Patricia slowly turned to its source.

Her eyes widened like saucers.

Her stomach flipped.

Tears pricked her eyes at the sight of the person coming out from the bathroom connected to her bedroom.

Dimitri Gorshkova.

He appeared to be no older than 14 right now.

Dimitri had on the uniform of that infuriating overseas boarding school he'd seemed to have adopted as his home back then.

He cast her a glance that didn't even last a split second as he passed in front of her bed, toward the door with measured steps.

Despite the youthful appearance, his facial expression was that of a strict man who'd experienced the world.

His eyes were sharp, and so was his gaze.

Even the way he dried his hands with the towel screamed sophistication.

At that moment, Patricia forgot the years of unsolved misunderstandings and resentment between the two of them. All she had in mind was that Dimitri, her third brother, was in front of her.

Did this mean she'd joined the afterlife as well?

So what if they'd both died, at least they were united again! Maybe their first brother and their father were here as well.

Patricia was overwhelmed with joy.

She opened her mouth once but the lump in her throat prevented any word from coming out. So she simply waited, her expectant eyes strained on the doorway beside which Dimitri now stood.

Not too long after, a series of footsteps rushed towards the bedroom.

All traces of blood drained from Patricia's face in an instant. Her shining eyes froze.

Or maybe... this was hell personalized to ensure eternal torture for her?

A drop of tear rolled down her cheeks.

Even if her first brother had passed away and she'd followed almost a year after her third brother and their father, their mother was living well with their second brother, was she not? Patricia hadn't heard anything about the possible death of the mistress of the Gorshkova family.

Did... Did the remaining members of the Gorshkova family perish after Patricia died?

No, this couldn't be!

The last time Patricia saw her mother, even if it was only from afar, her eyesight hadn't played tricks on her. Her mother hadn't looked sick at all. She was sad, but not sick!

What's more, even if her mother had lost two of her sons as well as her husband, she still had one son along with her long-lost daughter by her side.

All kinds of thoughts flooded Patricia's mind. She failed to notice that her first brother was nowhere to be seen yet.

Patricia tried to get out of bed. Unfortunately, the overwhelming anxiety had caused her not to notice the layers of sheets draped over her. Consequently, she tangled her legs in them whilst trying to rush out of the room and see whether her second brother was in the afterlife with the rest of them.

Irene Gorshkova, her mother, rushed to her side in an instant. She gasped when she saw her daughter falling face first onto the floor.

Unexpectedly for everyone in the room, the one who prevented the fall was none other than Dimitri Gorshkova. He'd somehow managed to outrun his mother and made it in time to support Patricia.

"Why are you suddenly rushing out of bed? Haven't you had enough already with one broken leg?"

Patricia looked at him with a sad expression on her face. Tears pooled in her almond-shaped eyes. She saw the frown on his stern-looking face but didn't hear the words that accompanied it.

Dimitri's brows were scrunched tighter together as he looked down at her in disapproval. Ignoring the stupid look on Patricia's face, he lifted her princess style and put her back in bed.

Throughout the process that lasted a few seconds at most, his face retained the expression of someone who was being forced to accomplish assigned duties. A punishment, actually.

Yet, Patricia didn't care. She stared at her third brother's face the entire time. Even dead, Dimitri remained the same diligent person. He would do things well or he wouldn't do them at all. She couldn't believe Dimitri was so close to her at this moment. If this was death, she didn't mind dying a thousand time over.

Patricia was so caught up in her own emotions that she failed to notice how he'd paid special care to one of her legs in particular, before tucking her in like a child at bedtime.

If Dimitri acted this was with her now that they were no longer alive, maybe what little was left of the relationship between her and the rest of the Gorshkovas could be salvaged?

Patricia suddenly burst out in tears.

Dimitri's face snapped in her direction. His hands instantly retracted to his sides.

The moment she let out the infant-like wail, Irene rushed forward. She subconsciously pushed the startled Dimitri out of the way.

"Did you hurt yourself when you fell? Did your brother touch your leg?"  She frantically inspected her face and entire body. "Tell Mommy where it hurts. Mommy will help you get better, all right? Mommy will make the pain go away."

Dimitri stood rooted in place. He'd clearly sure not to touch any of her injures.

His brows furrowed almost unnoticeably as he stared at Patricia's crying face from behind his mother's back, his gaze turning sharper.

"What are you looking at with those evil eyes of yours?!" Irene snapped at him. She looked like a mother feline ready to tear apart whomever dared harm her cub.

"I did not touch her foot."

Dimitri wasn't one to beat around the bush. His mother straightforwardly accused him of worsening his sister's injuries. In return, he straightforwardly told his mother that wasn't the case.

Alas, a mother knew not reason when it came to the sufferings of her child.

"Says you, the evil little gremlin staring at your baby sister like you'd gobble her up the moment she denounced your purposeful wrongdoings!"

Dimitri responded coldly over the incessant wailing of the youngest in the room:

"Patricia is no longer a baby."

"You...!"

Irene was at a loss for word.

Ever since her youngest son enrolled in that boarding school- No. Dimitri had always been a little gremlin, it only worsened with the bad influence of those foreigners!

No matter what she said, Irene knew would never be able to get that boy to understand facts as they were. Embarking into a quarrel right now would only be detrimental to her baby girl's health.

Talking this into consideration, she could only glare at her son with bulging eyes after huffing and puffing for a while.

Dimitri was no gentleman either. He returned his mother's insult-filled gaze with an indifferent one.

As expected, the nonchalance was considered an act of defiance. Needless to say, it was badly received.

Irene was about to teach her son some manners when Kostyantyn finally made himself noticed.

He walked to his wife's side and placed his large palm on his daughter's head and felt the latter's chubby body stiffen at the unexpected contact.

This action of his was enough to somewhat ease the tension in the air. Although it wasn't enough to dilute Irene's anger, it helped prevent her from doing anything rash.

"What's wrong, Tricia?" he asked in a gentle voice.

Patricia raised her head. Her eyes were round, red and glistening with tears as she looked at her father's face, which had a pinkish undertone, causing him to look like he was still alive.

Patricia hiccuped.

Appearance-wise, her father's face, just like Dimitri's, looked younger. She could no longer see the damages done by time and years of endless emotional distress.

Then, she pulled him into her arms.

Kostyantyn stiffened. Although he couldn't comprehend what was going on, he surmised it might be best to play along until their daughter calmed down enough to share what it was that was bothering her.

But then, Patricia started to cry in the crook of his neck. Somehow, her crying seemed to be intensifying by the second. She even hugged him tighter and refused to let go.

"Tricia!"

The nickname tore out of Patricia like it was the most heart-breaking word in the world.

The posture Kostyantyn was in was quite uncomfortable.

Noticing the same, his wife ***** chewed on one side of her lower lip. She was hesitant to pull them apart. But seeing how her baby girl showed no desire to release her father, Irene finally took a step forward.

However, her husband lifted a hand in the air before she'd even taken her second step in their direction.

Irene halted. She subconsciously glanced at Dimitri.

The boy was staring at his baby sister emotionlessly.

Did his heart not hurt seeing her crying face?!

How much was the child suffering to cry like that?

Irene turned her head away with a pout.

There was no point looking for any comfort from that evil gremlin!

The people in the bedroom didn't speak a word. The only sound breaking the silence was the heart-piercing sobs coming from the little girl.

After crying for nearly ten minutes, Patricia finally lifted her face from her father's neck. She pulled back enough to look at his face. Then, she said through words interspersed by hiccups:

"Please don't be mad at me. No matter what others say, I swear I've never harmed anyone."

Kostyantyn tried to break free from her embrace. He wanted to take a seat beside her and have a proper conversation.

However, Patricia completely misunderstood the gesture. She thought her father was leaving her once again. She mistakenly believed he'd lost all trust in her character and refused to forgive her. So she quickly clung herself to him.

"I would never do something like that. Especially not to her. Please, believe me. You know me. You watched me grow up. You know me better than anyone else on this planet. I swear I didn't do any of the things others accused me of!"

"My baby, of course we believe you."

Irene's heart ached. Her daughter seemed genuinely frightened at the prospect of her parents possibly misunderstanding her.

Kostyantyn shared his wife's sentiment. Although he didn't love Patricia to the point of no longer being able to distinguish right from wrong, he had enough faith in his her to know she wouldn't have attempted at the life of another child. Patricia was only a child after all. He refused to believe she'd already been tainted by the evil of this world.

Behind them, Dimitri's face had darkened considerably. Unlike the adults in the room who were both worried for their daughter's emotional condition, Dimitri felt ridiculous that Patricia was making a scene to guilt trip his parents against holding her accountable for her own actions.

If a single frown from Patricia would normally be enough to get their mother fully wrapped around her fingers... What was it exactly that she'd done this time for her to resort to actual crying in order to save herself?

Dimitri was startled out of his thoughts when Patricia raised her voice out of the blue:

"You're the best father in the world! I don't want any other father! You're the only one I want! I don't want to lose you. Please, Mommy, Daddy, don't abandon me. I'll be good. I'll be obedient."

Patricia suddenly looked up. Her eyes immediately made contact with Dimitri's narrowed ones.

"Dimitri, I— I won't call you brother ever again! You don't have to love me or consider me your sister. I got it. I'm not your real sister. I'm a fake. I won't try to replace the real one. I'll even stay out of your sight if it makes you happy, but... don't be angry at me anymore. Please. I know you won't believe me, but I honestly have nothing to do with all that's happened to you."

She was hysterically pleading her own innocence in front of her family members. From the way she spoke, it would seem like she fully believed they would know what she was talking about. However, the people being asked for forgiveness suddenly felt like they hadn't been thinking of the same thing as Patricia from the beginning. The part addressed to Kostyantyn made sense considering the 'incident', but what in the world had she done to Dimitri to justify the desperate attempt at clearing her name?

The adults turned to Dimitri with a questioning expression on their faces.

However, Dimitri didn't spare them a glance. He didn't tear his gaze away from Patricia as closed the distance separating them from each other.

"You can even hit me if you want," Patricia said when he approached her. She even let go of his father, as if giving him full access to do whatever he pleased to her.

While Irene gasped and Kostyantyn looked back and forth between their children with a viable frown, Dimitri looked at Patricia's flushed face with chilly eyes.

The iciness in his gaze worsened when confronted with the expression on Patricia's face. She had never been a good actress. There was no way she could fake such a genuine expression. Her eyes even brightened up with an emotion Dimitri failed to describe into words. The closest he got to it was hope, but it didn't seem to be sufficient considering its intensity.

Did she seriously think he would hit her?

Casting a final look at her tear-soaked face, Dimitri exited the room.

Patricia's shoulders slumped.

Her mind replayed his darkening expression as he stared at her face, again and again.

That definitely meant he didn't believe her. Dimitri still thought the destruction of his career and reputation was all her doing.

Patricia wasn't lying, though. She wouldn't stop him from hitting her if it meant he'd believe in her. She even admitted to being a fake, what more could she do? They were all dead already.

And even if they were still alive, she had nothing to her name anymore. The only thing she could offer him was the plastic bag she used as blanket and the pieces of hand-stiched rags she had for clothes. She wouldn't mind handing over the tattered potato sack she inherited from Mia Granny to use as a jacket if it would help communicate her sincerity.

A sob escaped her lips.

Even in death, Dimitri couldn't bring himself to believe in her innocence. She was bound to be forever alone. Soon, even their mother would look down at her in disdain. That's why she'd refused to look at her face until now. She couldn't bare seeing disappointment and hatred targeted at her on the face of her most cherished person.

"Yes. Right. I suspect she might have hit her head during the fall. It seems rather severe, considering the amount of idiocy that's left her mouth since the moment she opened her eyes. Right now. Just do whatever it takes to get here within an hour. We will pay double if needed. I'm afraid Patricia may have become dumber than she originally was."

Kostyantyn and Irene stared at each other. The expression on the face of the wife reflected the one on the face of the husband.

The couple turned to the door simultaneously.

"Dr. Blooms is on the way."

Dimitri appeared before them. His demeanour was that of a person living through a normal day... as if those words hadn't just been uttered by his mouth.

The brat even dared return their incredulous gaze with an arched eyebrow, as if asking them whether something was wrong!

Had it not been for her precious baby who appeared to be at the brink of desperation with her face in her palms, Irene would have smacked that evil gremlin a couple times on the head. Then they'd see who the real dumb one was. Hmph!