The Ritual for the Wrong Daughter

In my last life, I had fought desperately to win their love. It was a fool's errand. In the end, my child and I were just sacrifices for their twisted ritual.

I remembered pleading outside the private clinic, begging them to spare my child. They forced me onto the operating table anyway.

The memory sent a phantom ache slicing through my chest. They didn't want me then. Fine. This time, I'd give them exactly what they wanted.

"Fine. I'll sign."

The room fell silent. After my furious protests, no one had expected me to cave so easily. In my past life, I had threatened to kill myself, only for my father to forcibly pin my hand down and make me sign.

Titus and Cassia had thrown a lavish engagement party, live-streaming the entire event while I was locked away. I’d clicked on the stream for just a second. The sight of their embrace sent a shard of ice through my heart, and I slammed my laptop shut.

The world celebrated their joy, while I was left in the dark.

This time, I already knew what signing meant. Why cling to foolish hope? It was pointless.

"Sera..." Titus looked at me, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Are you sure?"

I picked up the pen and scrawled my name without a second thought. The black ink bled across the paper, a final, severing mark.

A small, bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Of course. You all seem to think I've stolen something that wasn't mine. I'm just returning it to its rightful owner. We all know how much you cherish Cassia."

After the life I’d already lived and lost, I finally understood: blood means nothing without love. The scales would always tip in Cassia's favor, even though she was the usurper.

My father and Elena exchanged an uneasy glance.

A shadow of guilt crossed Titus's face. But before he could speak, Cassia stepped forward.

"Sera," she whispered, hiding behind him, sobbing. "I'm so sorry..."

The moment she cried, Titus swept her into his arms. I didn't wait to watch the pathetic display; I simply turned and walked away.

At their engagement party, I was granted the "honor" of attending—my reward for being so cooperative.

Giant crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow on the marble floor. Staff moved deftly through the room, every detail polished with an air of effortless luxury.

A sea of white and pink roses, the backdrop for the new couple's love, was meticulously arranged, each bloom a silent witness.

Titus stood before me in a crisp white suit. The finger where our wedding ring once sat was bare, ready for a new one.

He looked deeply conflicted. "Sera, you have to understand," he murmured, his voice low. "Cassia and I... we grew up together. She's dying. I couldn't say no. When this is all over... I promise, I'll make it up to you."

His eyes softened with a sorrow I no longer believed. "I'm still in love with you, Sera. Deeply."

Love? I had once been foolish enough to believe him, to tell myself he must have his reasons.

The light in his eyes when we first met, the depth of our love after we married, his tears of joy when he found out I was pregnant—it had all felt so real.

But then I remembered how he had personally overseen the ritual that killed our child for Cassia. There was no excuse I could make for him now.

I looked at him calmly. "We've already signed the annulment. Save those words for your future wife, Mr. Costello."

His body stiffened, but I continued with a cold smile. "Congratulations."

Ignoring the tight line of his jaw and his furrowed brow, I turned and strode away.