Transferred Wealth, Untransferred Blood

Party

Everyone froze. They did not think I'd confess this quickly. Queenie stammered and tried to say something, but I stormed off. No way I was letting her hurt me again.

When I was out of their earshot, I opened up all my shopping and delivery apps, then I put down as many orders as my fingers allowed me to.

Queenie thought my silence meant I was scheming something, but when she noticed her growing balance, a grin stretched her lips wide. She texted me, 'They want you to buy them something, or your apology's not accepted. Get them some coffee.'

I sneered. 'Okay.' And I got that delivery. But the moment it hit our doors, I asked for a refund due to hygiene.

That wasn't the only one. I did it for all orders I made. The money I spent came back to me, but when I checked the user interface, I found out the account that asked for the refunds was not mine.

It was Queenie's.

I knew it. Her system could only give Queenie the money I spent. If I were to cancel my purchases or ask for refunds, the system would register the refund requests under her name to make sure things stayed balanced. It was a mandatory move to make sure Queenie's income source was justified.

Good news. This was excellent news. I nearly jumped from joy. Yep, she would have hell to pay. I spent nearly 450 grand on shopping. Once I got the items, I asked for refunds and came up with all sorts of excuses. I didn't care even if the purchase was one dollar. I asked for a refund anyway.

Underwear, snacks, pads, designer bags, houses on auction, I got everything and refunded everything.

Even so, it did not stop my heart from beating faster, like something bad was going to happen.

I was reminded of my previous life. Of how quickly my body wasted away. It was the weekend, so I went back to my villa.

The first thing that hit my eyes was a party. Queenie and Harold were holding a party at my house, and our schoolmates were huddled around them.

They noticed me and had nothing but disgust.

"Oh, you're back, Wendy." Queenie was in a custom-made dress. She put down her '82 Lafite and approached me.

"It's Harold's birthday today. He really, really wanted to have a party at the villa, so I brought him and the gang. The cellar's nearly running out. Get a few hundred more bottles for us, please."

I stared at her shining, beaming face. I froze. Yeah, clothes made the woman. And this woman had a total makeover thanks to the millions she stole from me.

No one would've expected that she was a housekeeper's daughter who wore patched-up hand-me-downs a few years ago. She came to my place with her mother.

I wondered how she managed to bind me to her.

My silence annoyed her. She pointed at me imperiously. "Well, don't just stand there. Go! I went out of my way to hold this party for Harold. If you waste my time, there will be hell to pay! And get more of that '82 Lafite. Harold loves it! And get me Blackswan's most expensive cake! The one with eighteen layers! And get me a spot at a five-star restaurant."

Wow, if the Olympics held an event for shamelessness, she'd run laps around all the other contestants.

This woman stole my money to enjoy a life of luxury, and now she wanted me to help her keep up appearances while paying nothing?

Sorry, but life did not work that way.