"Pearl's a genius baby!"
"She's talking already? She's barely a month old!"
While I was busy stealing hearts, my sister—on the opposite side of the center—was beginning to attract some attention as well. Her features had started to sharpen, and her skin was as fair and delicate as porcelain. People began commenting that she looked like a doll straight out of a luxury boutique.
And that was all it took for Vivian, my sister's new mom, to discover her motherly instincts suddenly. She cradled my sister like she was priceless fine silverware, softly singing lullabies as she rocked her in her arms. And then, to everyone's surprise, my sister started humming along.
That sent the whole center into a frenzy.
"No way! Two prodigy babies under one roof?"
"One's talking, the other's harmonizing? What are the odds?!"
During group events or check-ups, my sister would parade around as if she owned the place, chin held high and full of pride.
She made sure to shoot me a look every time, the kind that said:
[Watch yourself, sis. This time, I'm winning.]
Finally, after our one-month stay ended, Vivian couldn't get out of there fast enough. She practically ran out with my sister in her arms.
I knew exactly where she was headed.
She was about to visit her so-called sugar daddy — the man who had been financing her entire lifestyle.
Just like in our last life.
She thought now that she had "his child," she had finally locked down her place. But she was in for a brutal wake-up call.
The man took one look at them, slammed the door in her face, and tossed a wad of cash at her like she was a problem he was tired of fixing.
He was married, and his wife came from a powerful political family, so he wasn't about to jeopardize that.
He looked her dead in the eyes and said coldly, "Take the money and keep your mouth shut. Or I have ten thousand ways to make you and that kid disappear."
She took the money but never let go of the humiliation. She held onto that rage, letting it fester inside her. Eventually, she directed every ounce of that twisted energy into raising her daughter as a perfect, obedient weapon.
She smothered her, controlled her, and drilled her like she was some soulless machine.
She only lets me sleep four hours a day. The rest of my time was consumed with work: studying, dancing, acting, singing, and rehearsing like a show pony. She kept polishing until my shine dulled.