Clara thought she had died, poisoned by her adoptive family because they feared she would covet the inheritance meant for their other children.

But as she looked at the people before her now, she knew without a doubt that she had been reborn. She had returned to the day they revealed the truth about her birth.

"Clara, there's something we've wanted to tell you... We've been thinking about this for a long time."

"You're not actually our biological daughter."

In the elegant living room of the Bennett family villa, Clara Bennett sat calmly on a luxurious Italian leather sofa.

Across from her, her adoptive mother, Vivian Thompson, set down her delicate bone-china teacup and dropped the bombshell.

Clara's eyes widened. It was the same scene as in her previous life, down to the very words they used.

When she did not react, her adoptive father, Robert Bennett, scowled from the other end of the sofa. In a grave voice, he added, "That's right. The hospital made a mistake years ago. We only recently found our biological daughter, Rachel. She's spent all these years struggling in the countryside."

He paused and narrowed his eyes at Clara. "Now that Rachel is back, it's time for you to return to your birth family."

He studied her carefully. Clara knew what he was waiting for: tears, panic, perhaps even desperate pleas. In her previous life, she had given him all three.

This time, she simply sat there and listened, her expression unchanged.

She should have agreed at once and left. She remembered the script from her previous life perfectly. If she stayed even one more day, they would hand her a poisoned glass of wine that evening. Calling the police would do no good. She could hardly tell them she had already died once and that the murder would not happen until tonight.

Yet she remained seated.

She wanted to watch them one last time. She held herself exactly as she had in her previous life: the same silence, the same seat, the same face that neither cried nor caused a scene. If, given another chance, even one of them said something different, then perhaps the eighteen years of loyalty and love she had given them would be enough for her to help when the Bennett family later faced a financial crisis.

But the Bennetts clearly mistook her silence for reluctance. Vivian's gaze chilled, though she tried to remain composed. "Sweetheart, please don't blame us for being heartless, all right? We raised you for eighteen years. Even a stray cat or dog would come to mean something after so long. But Rachel... she's our flesh and blood. She's suffered so much."

Vivian reached for Clara's hand in a show of helpless affection, but Clara instinctively pulled away.

Vivian's hand froze in midair, embarrassment crossing her face. "Don't worry. Even after you return to the Howards, we'll always care about you... We'll always be family."

Clara's eldest brother, Christopher Bennett, cut in. "Exactly. The Howards aren't wealthy, but they're your family. Blood ties shouldn't be severed. You can't keep taking Rachel's place while she suffers out there. It isn't right."

Taking her place.

Clara turned the phrase over in her mind. The hospital had switched the babies, and the Bennetts had been the ones to bring her home. As an infant, she had hardly chosen her own delivery room.

Not once in those eighteen years had she felt that Rachel's place belonged to her. At the dining table, Clara sat at the end nearest the door. In family portraits, she always stood at the edge, where a single cut could remove her without leaving any obvious gap.

Yet now they treated her as though she had orchestrated the switch herself. Clara doubted any law in any state would hold an infant responsible for manipulating a hospital.

Clearly, the Bennett family had not changed at all. Her patience began to wear thin. She looked around the opulent living room, remembering that there had been warm moments between them once. Now every face seemed twisted with contempt.

Her second brother, Matthew Bennett, gave an impatient snort. "Why are we wasting time talking? She's the one who's been living a life that never belonged to her. We have to correct this mistake."

He cast Clara a sidelong glance filled with disdain.

Her third brother, Thomas Bennett, lounged on the sofa, toying with a lighter between his fingers. He sneered, "Yeah. Send the farm girl back to her barn."

The fourth and fifth brothers, John and Kevin, stayed silent, but Clara read their expressions perfectly. Their disgust was unmistakable.

Clara looked at them coldly as her thoughts drifted back to the past.

How foolish had she been in her previous life?

Even with contempt written all over their faces, she had cried and begged to stay, promising to behave as long as they did not send her away.

And what had that earned her?

They had agreed to her face, then slipped poison into her drink.

Clueless, she had drunk the wine and watched the world go black.

Just before she died, she heard her "loving" adoptive mother say coldly, "We raised her for eighteen years. That's enough. But she refused to leave. What if she keeps taking Rachel's place and tries to claim the inheritance someday? She'd only become a problem. She brought this on herself."

Robert did not even blink. He merely nodded and said, "Clean it up. Don't leave any evidence. The Howards already know the situation. To everyone else, it'll simply look like Clara refused to go home."

As Clara's relationship with her so-called parents shattered beyond repair, her brothers had joined in, their voices thick with disgust. "Get her out of here! I'm sick of having that fake around for eighteen years. I can't wait for our real sister to come home. She's bound to be a hundred times better!"

Thomas chuckled smugly. "Once that impostor is gone, we should give this place a thorough cleaning. I don't want the stink of a beggar affecting our health."

John and Kevin had piled on as well, speaking with the same contempt. There had been no pity and no hesitation, only relief, as if they were finally throwing out a piece of unwanted trash.

Their words had not merely hurt. They had torn apart the heart that had once been utterly devoted to them.

But Clara was back now.

She had been reborn at the very moment everything began to go wrong.

She stared at the wolves in human skin before her, her heart frozen solid. She felt no warmth for these people anymore, only blazing hatred and deep fury, tempered by a strange calm.

She no longer expected anything from the Bennett family. This room had given her the confirmation she wanted. Every word and every line was the same. Their ending had already been written.

All she wanted was to survive. When the time came, she would make them pay for what they had done.

Why had she begged them in her previous life?

Clara had asked herself that many times. It was not because she could not bear to lose the Bennett family's money. She had never touched a single piece of Vivian's discarded jewelry. All she had wanted to hear was, "You're still our daughter." She had believed eighteen years could warm even the coldest heart.

Her death had proved otherwise.

This time, she had nothing to lose. Walking out that door empty-handed was still better than dying beside a poisoned glass of wine.

Every eye in the room bore down on her with warning and menace. Clara lifted her head, calm and steady. "Of course. I have no objection. When are we leaving?"

The living room fell silent.