After Rebirth, I Let His Adopted Sister Destroy HimChapter 1
On New Year's Eve, I'd just taken antibiotics for a high fever when my husband dragged me to the family reunion dinner. As everyone raised their glasses, I explained that I couldn't drink alcohol after taking the medication.
That's when my husband's adopted sister poured me a glass of what looked like juice.
"Here, Queenie Simmons—just toast with this instead."
Under my husband's watchful gaze, I downed the drink in one gulp.
The moment I finished, she let out a cold laugh.
"I mixed half a glass of liquor into that. See? You're perfectly fine. You were just looking for an excuse to snub our family, weren't you? Too bad for you—I don't let anyone get away with that."
My heart raced. I couldn't breathe. I spent three days in the hospital having my stomach pumped, hovering between life and death.
To "apologize," she offered to take care of me during my recovery. When I had a video conference with a business partner, I specifically asked her not to disturb me.
Halfway through the meeting, she barged into my room blasting music from a portable speaker, dancing like she was at a street fair.
The client terminated our partnership on the spot. The company lost tens of millions. I lost my job.
When I confronted her, she didn't even flinch.
"This is my brother's house. Why can't I go wherever I want? You think you can boss me around? I don't let anyone get away with that."
My husband made her apologize. For his sake, I let it go. When she offered to cook for me, I reminded her to turn off the gas when she was done—otherwise it could be dangerous.
She got me drunk. Then she turned on the gas valve and locked me in the kitchen.
"Trying to tell me what to do? I don't let anyone get away with that."
I suffocated to death on that kitchen floor.
When I opened my eyes again, it was the Lantern Festival.
——
"Queenie, dinner's ready! Come eat!"
That voice. I knew that voice.
The realization hit me like ice water—I had been reborn.
Corinne Swanson stood at the door, calling me with that same sweet persistence.
Before I could gather my thoughts, my husband Calvin Swanson nudged my arm.
"Queenie, Corinne's talking to you. Are you deaf?"
I found my voice quickly.
"I have a cold and fever. I'm not eating."
The next second, Corinne pushed the door open and walked in, a box of antibiotics in her hand.