From Neglected Girl To Unstoppable Heiress
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I lay dying on a hospital gurney, my internal organs crushed from shielding my sister during the crash.
Yet, my parents were down the hall, cooing over Estrella' s minor scratches while ignoring my fading pulse.
"She' s faking it for attention," my father spat. "She' ll regret this stunt when she gets home."
When the nurse frantically told them I was gone, my mother didn't shed a tear. She laughed.
"Nice try," she sneered at the nurse. "Tell Carolina to stop playing dead. It' s pathetic."
My spirit watched helplessly as they turned my funeral into a performance, painting me as the "difficult" child who finally ruined their lives.
I thought my suffering was over, but then a violent pull dragged me back from the void.
I opened my eyes in a stranger's body-Claire Tillman, a billionaire heiress betrayed by her fiancé.
Now armed with a new face and unlimited resources, I realized I had a second chance.
I wasn't just going to survive; I was going to destroy the fiancé who wronged Claire, and then I was coming for the family that let me die.
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Chapter 2
Carolina POV
My mother' s voice, a distant echo now, still held the power to chill. She was still talking, unaware of my fading form. "She' s never been right, that girl," she murmured, her voice laced with manufactured sadness, the kind she used for distant relatives she barely knew. "Ever since she was a little thing. So moody. So… gloomy."
Carleton nodded grimly. "No sense of family loyalty. Always drifting. What will she ever make of herself?" The question hung in the air, a judgment already delivered.
Estrella, ever the dutiful daughter, spoke up, her voice honeyed with feigned concern. "Oh, Mother, Father, don' t be so hard on Caro. Maybe she' s just… lost. She needs us." Her words were perfectly calibrated, designed to paint her as the compassionate sister while subtly reinforcing my perceived failings.
Hulda' s expression softened instantly. "You' re too kind, my darling. Always thinking of others." She squeezed Estrella' s hand. "That' s why everyone loves you, Estrella. Unlike some people, who only think of themselves." Her gaze, though not directed at me, felt like a physical weight on my vanishing essence.
I watched, a detached observer, as Estrella' s performance unfolded. The slight tilt of her head, the well-timed sniffle, the way her eyes glistened without actually shedding tears. It was a masterpiece of manipulation, honed over years, and my parents were its most ardent audience.
They won' t believe me, even if I screamed the truth from the rooftops. I knew this. I had tried, so many times, to tell them about Estrella' s cruel games, her subtle sabotages. Each time, I was met with their unwavering disbelief, followed by lectures on my jealousy and imagination.
I remembered a time, I must have been eight, and Estrella was six. She' d deliberately broken my favorite porcelain doll, a gift from my grandmother. When I cried and told Mother, Estrella had immediately burst into loud, theatrical sobs, claiming I had pushed her and called her names. Mother had grounded me for a week and made me apologize to Estrella. I had stopped trying to explain after that. It was easier to just accept the blame.
It was always easier. For them, for me. This pattern, this dance of their adoration and my dismissal, had become as natural as breathing.
Suddenly, the door burst open. My older sister, the perpetually stressed but fiercely loyal Victoria, rushed in, her face pale with worry. "Estrella! My God, are you alright?" She ignored my prostrate form in the hallway, her focus, like everyone else' s, solely on the golden child.
Victoria rushed to Estrella' s bed, her hands hovering over her. When she saw Estrella' s small bandage and heard her soft assurances, Victoria exhaled a ragged sigh of relief. "Thank heavens. I was so worried."
Then, her eyes landed on my unmoving body in the hallway. Her face hardened, twisting into a mask of fury. "And she caused all this, didn' t she? That… that nuisance. Always ruining everything." She spat the words, her contempt palpable.
Estrella, seeing her cue, whimpered. "Vicky, don' t be mean. Carolina didn' t mean to… she didn't mean to cause trouble." But her words only fueled Victoria' s rage.
The entire family erupted. Carleton slammed his fist on the bedside table. "How did this even happen, Estrella? That girl is going to pay for this!"
Hulda' s teeth clenched. "She will regret the day she ever crossed us. She will regret it deeply."
Victoria' s eyes, usually sharp, were now narrowed with pure malice, fixed on my form.
Estrella, realizing the fury might be turning a little too strongly against me, and thus potentially damaging her "innocent" image, quickly intervened. "No, no, please! Don' t be angry at Carolina. I' m sure it was just an accident. She wouldn' t hurt me on purpose, I know she wouldn' t." Her voice was sweet, a perfect balm to their rage.
Victoria patted Estrella' s arm. "You' re too kind, darling. You always were. You always think the best of everyone." But her eyes still flickered with suspicion towards my body.
Hulda chimed in, "Estrella has a heart of gold. She loves her sister, even when Carolina is so… difficult." She looked at Carleton. "Estrella is right. We shouldn' t completely condemn Carolina without knowing the full story. Perhaps she needs help." But the tone suggested 'help' was more like 'reprimand'.
Carleton nodded, appeased. "For Estrella' s sake, we' ll let it go. This time."
I watched their harmonious tableau, a tight-knit unit of adoration and shared disdain, and a wave of indescribable pain, sharper than any physical wound, washed over my spirit. I was an outsider looking in, not just to this room, but to this family, this life.
My spirit felt trapped, bound to this lingering shell, forced to witness the final, cruel rites of my abandonment. I wanted to scream, to tear free, but I was utterly powerless. I could only stand by, a silent, unseen witness to the contempt they showered upon my memory, even before it was truly established.