The Oleander Reborn

When I was seven years old, my father began subjecting me to extremely strict parenting. Not only did he withhold any support for my food, clothing, housing, or daily necessities, but he even charged me for drinking water in our own home.

As a child, I endured relentless suffering and bullying. When I was critically injured by a vehicle that broke the law, I was severely injured, and my father refused to save me.

Only after my death did I learn the truth that he already had a son somewhere out there. Everything he did to me was meant to drive me to my death.

After rebirth, I no longer adhered to rules nor endured silently.

Exploiting the fact that I was still a minor, I stabbed his secretary, bullied my classmates at school, and even set a fire on campus to force my father to give up on his brutal methods.

When I grew up, I took everything he owned and sent him to prison.

Only then was my revenge completed.

When I was bullied at school, my father sat inside a luxury car, watching with cold indifference.

“Your inability to build good relationships with your classmates is your own failure. You should reflect on yourself,” he said.

When I scavenged recyclables on the streets daily just to afford a single dinner roll, he mocked me.

“You’re already in elementary school, yet still can’t think of a way to make money better than picking up scraps. You deserve to starve to death.”

Even after I was struck by a car that ran a red light and left me critically injured, requiring surgery, he still refused to help.

“You failed to pay attention to traffic safety yourself, and you can’t even afford surgery. Your life is doomed.”

Thus, under the guise of grooming an heir, my father let me, his only daughter, die in the hospital hallway.

Only after death did I learn that his secretary had already borne him a son long ago. His so-called strict parenting was merely an excuse to push me to my death.

When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn on the very day he began implementing the strict parenting style.

…

My father was a live-in son-in-law who married into wealth.

When I was four, my mother passed away due to illness, leaving the vast family fortune to my father and me.

The death of a nationally renowned local entrepreneur drew widespread public attention. My father’s heartfelt eulogy during her funeral painted a moving final chapter onto her short yet brilliant life.

He also knelt before my mother’s coffin and vowed never to remarry, swearing to raise me properly and nurture me into an entrepreneur as successful as she had been.

This deeply emotional farewell even made headlines in newspapers and television broadcasts at that time, becoming a tale fondly discussed by the people over meals.

Back then, I believed that if my mother had been loved so deeply, then she must have been incredibly happy.

And as their only child, I would surely be protected just as well by my father.

However, starting from the third year after my mother’s passing, I never again received a single penny from this family until the day I died.

“Remember! Everything in this world comes with a price. There’s no such thing as a free lunch.

“You will one day reclaim from me everything your mother had left you. Only when you understand that nothing comes easily will you learn to cherish it, and only then will you appreciate my good intentions.

“So, starting today, I will no longer provide you with any material support. You must earn everything yourself. Even if that means a sip of water, you must find a way to obtain it on your own. Do you understand?”

I was only seven years old then, and could not comprehend the cruelty hidden in his words.

Later, when he truly cut me off from everything, did I finally realize the kind of hell I had entered.

No new clothes, no more soft and comfortable bed, and no food to fill my stomach.

I even got my own dedicated water tap, fitted with a meter, and each month I had to pay the nanny, Nancy, for my water usage.

At first, I thought this was merely a sudden educational experiment on my father’s whim.

However, when I suffered from stomach cramps induced by extreme hunger and eventually collapsed, nobody came to my aid. That was when I realized my father truly intended to let me fend for myself to the end.

How could a young child possibly know how to earn the means to survive?

No amount of my wailing could sway him in the slightest.

Facing starvation, I desperately sought ways to feed myself. At my lowest point, I even rummaged through trash bins for discarded leftovers.

Such behavior was hard to conceal. Even though I deliberately chose hidden trash bins far from school, I was still discovered.