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...“The moment I woke up in my 18-year-old body, I didn’t cry. I laughed. Because this time… I get to destroy you all with style.”...

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They say when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes.

Lies.

All I saw was the blank, white ceiling of a private hospital room, and the smug smile of my so-called sister—Zara Lin, the biological daughter who came back and took everything I had.

I died unloved. Unwanted. Forgotten.

I had sacrificed my youth, my dreams, and even my self-respect for a family that tossed me aside the moment their “real daughter” returned. I gave up scholarships to manage the company Father handed to me. I ran the household like Mother asked. I even smiled through the pain when my fiancé—Julian Han, the man I thought loved me—proposed to Zara in front of me like it was a favor.

And in the end, I died alone, coughing blood, while they argued outside over who should inherit my shares.

Pathetic.

But the real joke?

I opened my eyes… and it was seven years ago.

The day of Grandfather’s funeral.

The day everything started crumbling.

⸻

The heavy scent of incense snapped me from my thoughts. My black lace dress clung uncomfortably to my skin. A younger version of myself stared back at me from the mirror—eighteen years old, wide eyes, flawless skin, no signs yet of the stress and betrayal that would age me before my time.

I smirked.

So we’re doing this again, huh?

From downstairs, I could hear the soft murmurs of relatives gathering. Hypocrites, the lot of them. Pretending to grieve, while secretly calculating what they could gain from Grandfather’s passing.

I moved with practiced grace down the stairs, but this time… there was steel in my spine.

Let them look. Let them whisper. I was no longer the docile “fake heiress” desperate for love.

As I descended, I locked eyes with Zara, standing at the front door with a hand on Julian’s arm. She was beautiful, delicate—exactly the kind of daughter my parents wanted. She hadn’t even returned home yet in this timeline. But soon, she would.

Not this time.

My steps faltered just for a second.

Julian.

He looked at me as he always had—like a man admiring something he owned. In the past, I would have lowered my eyes, blushed, let his charm fluster me.

Now? I smiled. Not shyly. But like I already knew his bank account balance, his secrets, and just how quickly his precious company would fall if I decided to make one phone call.

“Julian,” I said, with a slight tilt of my head. “Still clinging to my family’s name, I see.”

He blinked. “…What?”

“Oh, nothing.” I brushed past him, my voice light. “Don’t mind me. I just woke up feeling strangely… generous today.”

Zara’s smile faltered. Her instincts were sharp. Good. She should be scared.

Because this time, I wouldn’t be fighting for their affection.

I would be fighting for their ruin.

If anyone noticed how calm I was at Grandfather’s funeral, they didn’t say a word.

In the past, I had cried so hard my mascara had run. I’d clung to Father’s arm, begged for comfort, and been rewarded with nothing but a cold shoulder and a harsh whisper: “Stop embarrassing yourself. You’re not even blood.”

This time, I sat with my back straight, lips painted with the faintest smile. I didn’t cry. I didn’t flinch when the will was read. I already knew what it would say.

My name would not be mentioned.

Not even once.

Because by now, Zara had already returned behind the scenes. They hadn’t introduced her yet, but they’d already decided to erase me like a pencil smudge on a perfect page.

I didn’t care.

Let them erase me. I’d write a whole damn novel in ink.

As expected, Father stood before the mourners, face solemn, voice controlled. Mother dabbed at her eyes with a silk handkerchief that matched her earrings. Elegant as always. Cold as ever.

Julian sat beside them, too close, too comfortable, his hand “accidentally” brushing Mother’s.

So.

That affair started earlier than I remembered.

My stomach twisted. Not from pain—but from disgust. I’d mourned them all once. I had loved them so deeply it destroyed me.

Never again.

As the ceremony ended, I quietly slipped away to the rear garden of the ancestral estate. I needed air. Space. Silence to think.

But of course, silence had never been a luxury in this family.

“I was wondering where you ran off to.”

Julian.

I turned slowly, hiding the fire in my eyes with a gentle blink. “Just needed a break.”

He stepped closer, face soft with concern. “Ari, you’ve been quiet today. I was worried.”

Worried? Oh, I bet he was.

“Were you?” I asked sweetly. “That’s rare.”

He blinked. “I’ve always cared.”

I gave a light laugh. “Is that what you told my sister too? Behind my back?”

His expression froze. Ah. So he had already begun. Maybe not physically. But emotionally? He had always been weak to Zara’s manipulation.

“She’s your sister—”

“She’s your weakness,” I cut in, my voice still calm. “But don’t worry, Julian. I’m not here to fight over scraps. If you want her, have her. I’m no longer interested in secondhand affection.”

He frowned, confusion etched across his handsome features. “What are you talking about?”

I stepped closer, just enough for him to smell the faint trace of my perfume. I saw his throat tighten.

I smiled. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

I left him standing in the garden, lost in a storm of thoughts.

Good.

Let him wonder who I’ve become. Because the old Arielle? She died.

And the new one?

She was learning how to turn people like him into pawns.

⸻

Later that evening, as the guests slowly left, I passed by Father’s study.

His voice carried through the cracked door.

“…If we don’t announce Zara’s return soon, the board will begin to question the company’s direction.”

My fingers paused on the doorknob.

Mother’s voice replied, quieter. “Arielle has done well running it these past two years, but she’s not ours. She was a placeholder. Nothing more.”

That sting—it used to crush me.

Now? It fueled me.

I pushed open the door with the calm of a queen entering court. Both of them stiffened as they saw me.

“Don’t stop on my behalf,” I said, smiling. “I’d hate to interrupt such a heartfelt conversation.”

Mother’s mouth opened slightly. “You should knock—”

“Why?” I tilted my head. “Because I might hear the truth?”

Father cleared his throat. “Arielle, this is neither the time nor place.”

“On the contrary,” I said. “It’s the perfect time. You see, I’ve spent years being your shadow child. Dutiful. Quiet. Disposable. But now that Zara’s coming back…” I walked forward slowly, “you’ll find I’m not so easy to throw away.”

“You have no claim to this family,” Mother hissed. “We took you in out of kindness—”

“Kindness?” I laughed, low and sharp. “You trained me to take over your company. You sent me to finance school. You gave me every weapon—then blamed me when I used them better than your ‘real daughter’ ever could.”

I leaned over the desk, eyes locked on Father’s. “So go ahead. Bring her back. Let’s see which of us the board really wants.”

Then I walked out.

Behind me, silence hung heavy like thunderclouds.

.

Chapter 3: Let the Games Begin

The following morning, I arrived at Wen Holdings precisely at 8:30 a.m.

Not a minute early, not a minute late.

Two years ago, they handed me the position of Acting Director out of obligation when Grandfather’s health declined. I took that obligation and turned it into dominance. I ran every meeting, every deal, every ruthless negotiation. And I made the company richer than it had ever been.

And now? I was to be replaced. Quietly. Without fuss.

I smoothed my silk blouse and stepped out of the car with a grace they hadn’t earned.

As I entered the building, I noticed the whispers.

“She’s here…”

“She looks so calm…”

“Isn’t the real daughter coming back soon?”

Oh, they were brave when they thought I couldn’t hear.

“Good morning, Miss Wen,” my secretary, Ivy, greeted me with a practiced smile and a steaming cup of matcha latte—my usual.

“Anything urgent?” I asked.

Ivy hesitated. “Mr. Wen senior scheduled an emergency board meeting at 10. All directors are required to attend.”

Ah, so soon?

They weren’t wasting time.

“Thank you, Ivy,” I said, accepting the drink. “And send a bouquet to the PR department. Something expensive. Make it look like I’m celebrating something mysterious.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Understood.”

I stepped into my office and closed the door behind me.

For a moment, I allowed myself a breath. A stillness.

Because war wasn’t just waged with fury.

It was waged with patience, strategy—and silence.

I pulled out the USB I’d hidden in the lining of my handbag.

Encrypted files. Names. Account records. Backroom deals.

Everything I had discovered in my first life—this time, I had collected early.

And this time, I wasn’t afraid to use it.

They’d wanted me to act like a powerless, adopted girl again.

But I came back smarter. Sharper. And ready to remind everyone just how dangerous a forgotten daughter can be.

⸻

By 10 a.m., the boardroom was full.

I took my usual seat at the end of the table, legs crossed, expression unreadable.

Then he entered.

Father.

And behind him, with an all-too-familiar smirk…

Zara.

Hair curled in gentle waves, eyes downcast just enough to appear delicate, yet confident. She wore pale pink like a symbol of innocence—but I knew better.

In her past life, Zara was a serpent in a rose garden.

Pretty, poisonous, and perfectly trained in crocodile tears.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Father began. “Thank you for coming. Today, I formally announce the return of my biological daughter, Zara Wen. She will soon resume her rightful place as the heir to Wen Holdings.”

Polite clapping. Murmurs. Awkward glances my way.

Zara lowered her head. “Thank you for welcoming me back.”

I didn’t clap. I simply tilted my head and said, “Well. Isn’t this nostalgic.”

The room froze.

Zara’s smile wavered. “Arielle… I don’t want to cause tension. I just want to find my place again.”

“Find your place?” I echoed, leaning forward. “Sweetheart, I’ve built this place. While you were gone living your fairy-tale abroad, I was here turning this empire into gold.”

The board exchanged uncomfortable looks.

Father’s jaw tightened. “Arielle—”

“I’m not done,” I said smoothly. “I support the family’s decision. Truly. But let’s be clear: this isn’t about family. It’s about leadership. About who the shareholders trust. So unless Zara can outperform me in quarterly profit margins, client retention, and innovation implementation, I see no need to hand over the reins.”

“Are you… challenging me?” Zara asked softly, though her eyes flared.

I smiled sweetly. “Oh no, dear sister. I’m just reminding you that I don’t lose.”