Chapter 1

After I died in the study room fire, I opened my eyes again and found myself ten years in the future.

I dug out my phone from my backpack and carefully called my brother Ethan:

"Ethan, can you come pick me up?"

He didn't answer.

On the other end of the line, I could only hear heavy, labored breathing.

I couldn't help but feel afraid:

"If you can't, could you lend me some money?

"Ethan?"

Ethan, who was in the middle of attempting suicide, stumbled out of the blood-stained bathtub.

Through gritted teeth, he said: "I don't care who you are. Wait for me."

Cold raindrops fell.

I held my backpack over my head, waiting anxiously for Ethan.

He had always been exceptionally talented since childhood---noble and cold.

He was the carefully groomed heir of the Ashford family.

But toward me, Ethan never showed a kind face.

In his heart, I was the Ashford family's adopted daughter of unknown origin.

Stupid, malicious, and very restless.

Not only did I frame the scholarship student he liked, but I also deliberately barged into his room wearing thin pajamas while he was showering.

Eighteen-year-old Ethan wrapped himself in a towel, his face terribly dark:

"Iris, you're so shameless!"

"Get out!"

These were the last two sentences he said to me in my previous life.

So when the study room caught fire and I was nearly suffocating from the smoke, using my last breath to call him and apologize, he didn't answer.

Reborn into this life, I wanted to live with a new identity and originally had no intention of contacting him.

It's just that...

I didn't have a single dollar in my backpack.

My ID had also been canceled.

The person most capable of helping me, and most likely to want me to stay away from the Ashford family, was definitely Ethan.

As long as he could lend me some money and help me solve my identity problem, I would definitely turn over a new leaf in this life and be a good person.

I promised to stay far away from him.

Before long, a Mercedes came speeding through the night.

The window rolled down, revealing a mature, handsome face.

Twenty-eight-year-old Ethan wore a well-fitted black suit.

Compared to his eighteen-year-old self, he had gained a bit more composure and restraint.

Only his expression was as indifferent as before.

When his gaze casually swept over me, I lowered the backpack that had been covering my face.

He suddenly froze.

Until I ran over and greeted him through the car window: "Ethan."

He remained in a daze for a long time.

Ten years.

For Ethan, I had been dead for ten years.

During those ten years, countless women dressed themselves up to look like me, trying to climb into his bed.

Every single one was verbally humiliated by him.

And now, I stood right in front of him.

Just as young as the photo on the tombstone.

My eyes were clear, and when I looked at him, they carried a familiar timidity.

The white pleated skirt and bear backpack I wore were identical to what I had been wearing when he identified my body at the morgue all those years ago.

Even the phone I clutched in my hand still bore the cracks from when he had smashed it.

"Get in."

His voice trembled slightly.