I sat silently, my gaze drifting to the corner of the room. My ten-year-old nephew was busy sweeping my expensive cosmetics off the vanity, smashing bottles onto the floor with a bratty grin.
In my past life, this was the moment I stepped in.
Back then, I had rushed forward to stop Vivian. I explained, using my medical background, that Grandmother Henson had been exposed to heavy metals during her life. I warned them that the dust from the ashes would trigger Ryan's asthma and that feeding a child "bone soup" was dangerous insanity.
For Ryan's sake, I had lectured them on the dangers of feudal superstition and urged them to raise him with independence. Later, I even used every connection I had to force that incompetent, lazy man into a high-paying job.
And how did they repay me?
They treated my kindness like garbage.
When they saw Daisy's success next door—attributed entirely to her "spirit dice"—and compared it to Ryan's mediocrity, their resentment festered. Ryan, at thirty, was still a low-level employee, unmarried and broke.
The accusations began.
"If it weren't for you stopping me back then, my son would be the rich one now!"
"She's just jealous," my mother had sneered. "She can't stand to see Ryan do well. She stole his luck!"
The memory of my final moments flashed before my eyes. Vivian, standing over my broken body, spitting on my corpse.
"So what if you went to college? You think you're so high and mighty? If you hadn't stopped me, my son wouldn't be poor and alone! You deserved to die!"
And Ryan—the boy I tried to save—screaming as he brought the shovel down again and again.
"It's your fault! You ruined my life! You made me work like a dog! Go to hell!"
I died alone on that cold ridge, my soul lingering just long enough to watch my family weave a story about me eloping with some wild man and killing myself in shame.
I forced the bile back down my throat. The hatred burning in my chest was cold and hard as ice.
God had given me a second chance. This time, I wouldn't be their savior.
I would be a spectator.
I unclenched my fists and smoothed my expression into a mask of indifference. I would not save them again. I would sit back and watch them walk the path of destruction they so desperately craved.