Chapter 1

Dallas Monroe, a billionaire, announced publicly that he intended to locate his 100 biological children, born from his years of sperm donations.

My best friend Amber found out she was one of his children and wanted to claim her connection with him. Out of concern, I warned her that Monroe was critically ill, and the reunion might be a front for something else. She listened and didn’t pursue the reunion.

But then Monroe passed away, and every recognized child inherited millions. Amber blamed me for ruining her chance at a fortune and stabbed me to death.

When I opened my eyes again, it was the very day Amber had come to tell me about her father.

I was jolted awake by someone shaking me. Blinking my eyes open, I saw Amber Reed leaning over my bed, face flushed with excitement.

"Jess, can you believe it? I’m actually Dallas Monroe’s daughter!”

I flinched, instinctively leaning back to avoid her too-close proximity. My fingers brushed my throat, and a faint memory clawed its way back—the suffocating feeling of Amber’s crazed attack when she plunged that knife into my neck. My breathing hitched.

Exactly like before, Amber was gesturing wildly as she told me the story. Her dad, suffering from infertility, had turned to a donor program. She was born from a high-quality donor’s sperm. And just yesterday, Dallas Monroe had gone public with his donation history, stating he wanted to reconnect with the children who shared his genes.

Every recognized child, she explained, would be entitled to inherit his estate.

“My DNA matches his exactly! Jess, I’m his daughter! Do you think I should go and claim my inheritance?”

Amber’s face lit up with anticipation.

She’d always been more interested in wealth than reality, spending college aiming to bag a rich guy and settle into a comfortable life. But rich guys didn’t marry girls like her—they just had fun. So, in that past life, when she discovered she was Monroe’s daughter, she was dead set on pursuing her “heiress dream.”

But back then, I found out that Monroe was terminally ill and that there were almost a hundred children in line. Out of concern for her, I advised her not to rush it.

“I’ve heard that some wealthy people use DNA matches like these to cultivate ‘genetic donors’—you know, personal blood banks or even organ donors. It’s strange he’d be reaching out now, right when he’s this sick. You might want to hold off,” I said.

Amber brushed it off, but after a few of the so-called “heirs” went mysteriously missing, she got scared and thanked me profusely for warning her. “You saved me, Jess! I could’ve been toast without you. You’re the best!”

This girl, who once said I was her “best friend,” later became convinced I was the one standing in the way of her fortune. When she failed to win over Ryan Cooper, and then learned that all the recognized children got the inheritance after Monroe died, she blamed me for the life she thought she’d been cheated out of.

On my birthday, she’d come at me with a knife, stabbing my throat over and over, cursing furiously:

“If it weren’t for you! If you hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve been the billionaire’s heiress! Ryan wouldn’t have left me, and I wouldn’t be living this miserable life!”

“Jessica Walker! This is all your fault! Die!”

What she didn’t know was that, the same day she killed me, the police released a statement exposing Monroe’s scheme. The sperm donations had been real, but the reunions were fake. Every child who’d reconnected with him had been a lab rat for a new medical experiment.

Yes, inheritance rights were promised, but Monroe’s “illness” and “death” were fabricated. He’d already hidden his assets and was planning his fake death and escape. The only thing left behind was millions in debt, not a single cent of inheritance.

But Amber never got to hear that truth from me. She’d already killed me.

Amber’s twisted, hate-filled face from that day flashed in my memory, overlapping with her current, eager expression.

This time, I only smirked.

“Congrats.”

Some people just can’t be saved.

I chose to let fate take its course.