The exhaustion chipped away at me, day after day.
Once, I twisted my ankle so badly during a dance rehearsal that I nearly ended up with permanent damage.
And what did she do?
While I lay on the hospital bed, she opened a livestream.
She exploited my pain and injury for sympathy, using it as a means to garner new sponsors and roles. She milked it dry to feed her own rising fame.
By the time I turned eighteen, she looked me straight in the eye and told me it was time to "repay her" for raising me. She taught me how to please the industry's powerful men. How to survive in a world built on favors, deals, and fake smiles.
Eventually, she reached her goal.
She became a film queen.
And I became a superstar.
The country's hottest actress.
But the cost?
My body. My dignity. My tears.
So when Freya, my sister, who had literally kicked me into that woman's womb, showed up years later in a wheelchair, dragging me toward my death like some tragic villain in a drama…
She had no idea what kind of hell I had already clawed my way out of.
In my previous life, by the end of that life, I felt utterly empty and drained in every way possible—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I didn't even have the strength to want anything anymore. Not even to live.
But this time around? It was my sister walking that same path. The same one that broke me.
At first, everything seemed picture-perfect for her. The media crowned her the 'Internet's Little Angel,' and she soaked up the spotlight like it was made just for her.
Meanwhile, I lived like royalty in the Gardner household. A proper little princess, doted on and spoiled absolutely rotten.
Whenever my hopelessly in love parents got too caught up in their dramatic, PDA-heavy love sessions, I'd quietly slip away to spend time with my true favorite: my obsessive, emotionally reformed foster brother.
Lance never minded. If anything, he seemed to look forward to it. He genuinely enjoyed how clingy I was, how I followed him like a shadow.
Back in our old life, he was invisible in this house and treated like a ghost. A polite, cold, unwanted ghost. But now? Now he had someone. He had me.
And I had him.
Unlike my sister, I never tried to isolate him. I didn't treat him like some lurking threat. No, I made sure everyone knew I adored him.