Chapter 3

Too cold to sleep, I decided to move around a bit to warm up.

But as soon as I stood, I saw a little beggar girl being dragged away by a man, his hand clamped over her mouth.

That familiar feeling—there was no mistake. The man was a kidnapper!

Without thinking, ignoring the throbbing pain in my head, I lunged forward, biting down on the man’s wrist with all my might.

I punched and kicked, but my strength was no match for his.

In the end, I managed to save the girl, but not before he broke one of my ribs.

Yet, I felt no pain. Seeing the girl unharmed, I burst into laughter.

But as I laughed, tears streamed down my face, unstoppable.

No one, no one knew better than me which was more agonizing: being kidnapped or being a beggar.

Five years ago, on Isabella’s birthday.

Just because of her tearful, false accusation:

“Albert! Stella called me a fake, said I stole her life, and that she was going to sell me to kidnappers!”

Coincidentally, a security guard caught a shifty man in the backyard.

He swore up and down that I had paid him to abduct Isabella.

No matter how I explained, Albert refused to believe me.

His eyes blazing, he slapped me hard across the face, then immediately handed me over to the kidnappers.

“I thought if I spoiled you enough, I could change the bad habits you picked up all those years. But I only made you more spoiled, more vicious!”

“Before Mom and Dad died, I promised them I’d help you become a better person. If gentle methods don’t work, then you’ll just have to learn the hard way!”

The first day I was sent away, my leg was broken, and I was sold into forced labor on the black market.

Often, I worked for two days and a night straight, without a single bite of food.

I was even locked in a cage, paraded around like an animal, people laughing and poking, living a life worse than any stray.

I once secretly called Albert, crying and begging him to bring me home.

But his resolve was unyielding.

“I promised Isabella you’d suffer for five years. That’s the only way to wear down your spirit until you wouldn’t dare lay a finger on her!”

Isabella! Always Isabella!

Why was it always because of her?

From the first day I was brought home, she twisted everything I did, always finding a way to accuse me.

But Albert always took her side, and gradually, I became the villain in his eyes.

After hanging up, I broke down and cried hysterically.

After that, I never dared to hope for the family affection I’d longed for.

I became numb, letting them manipulate me, torment me…

Until one night, the lock on my box wasn’t secured, and I tumbled down a hill.

Terrified of being recaptured, I avoided finding work that would expose me, surviving by begging.

I scrounged for bottles and cans, saved up what little money I could to finally treat my old injuries, only to be hit with a late-stage brain cancer diagnosis.

The little girl beside me suddenly reached out and gently stroked my face, wiping away my tears. She draped half of her thin jacket over me, and we huddled together for warmth.

Suddenly, a large commercial screen in the distance lit up with a news report.

[Mr. Albert Buys His Sister a Lavish Mansion in the Most Exclusive Neighborhood! Valued at Tens of Millions of Dollars! Truly a Global Philanthropist – the Kinder He Is, the More Successful His Business!]

The little girl looked at the house on the screen, her eyes wide as she gazed up at me.

“Stella, does everyone get to have a home? I hope you and I can have a home someday!”

I froze.

A home?

The orphanage from my childhood was home to all the kids there.

After I was found by my blood family, their house became Isabella’s home.

Now, with my life ticking down.

I suddenly wanted a home that was truly my own, even if it was just a burial plot.

So, I started collecting bottles day and night, selling scraps, doing any odd job I could find.

I saved just enough for a deposit on a burial plot.