Chapter 2
In my previous life, I had also shed tears of joy when I was drawn only to turn around and see Victor Lane’s face pale as death. His eyes had fallen on his adopted sister, not sparing me even a glance. Now that I had been reborn, I refused to be the pathetic fool I once was. On stage, Victor suddenly flared up, holding Jessy tightly in his arms. He said coldly that they were “going on a date,” then left without looking back. With the main characters gone, the remaining ninety-eight women scattered like startled birds. I was about to return to pack my bags when I was dragged into a corner by Mrs. Lane. Before I could react, a stinging slap landed on my cheek. “You wretched girl!” she hissed. “Didn’t I tell you Victor would draw your number? Why did it end up being an empty lot?!” Another slap followed. “You’re just like your useless father, shameless! I’m your biological mother, not some stranger! I told you to listen to me and you threw my words to the dogs!” My face burned from the blows, but not as much as my heart did. “The day you married into the Lane Family alongside that cheating brat Julia… that was the day you stopped being my daughter.” Mrs. Lane’s eyes turned vicious. “If anything happens to Julia because of you, I swear you will pay with your life!” In my previous life, I had been nailed into a coffin and buried alive. Only then did I realize the results of the blind box had been rigged all along. Of course, Mrs. Lane had wanted Julia to marry into a wealthy family. But she also needed to help Julia hide a secret. And me? I had been the victim of that secret. Now, I wanted nothing more than to sit back and watch them tear each other apart. Their secrets had nothing to do with me anymore. I rubbed my swollen cheek, my gaze flat and emotionless. “I’ll be marrying James Burn. Consider it repayment for the money you spent keeping my father alive all these years.” Her expression wavered. James Burn was a notorious figure in this city’s social circles, that man rumored to lack any moral compass. His temper was unpredictable and whispers said he indulged both men and women alike. He was infamous for his countless lovers, with some rumors claiming as many as eight hundred. And now, he happened to be searching for a wife to bring home. If I didn’t make a choice myself, Mrs. Lane would surely marry me off to a beggar or brute. So, I chose James Burn first, because I already knew he was far from the simple playboy everyone thought he was. Mrs. Lane smiled coldly. “Alright, good daughter. Then wait quietly to be married off.” She turned and stormed off, twisting her waist with each step. I let out a breath. My room was at the far west end of the Lane estate and I had to pass through the garden to get there. At that moment, the garden was in an uproar. Jessy was covering her mouth, sneezing softly. “Victor, my brother,” she whined, “who planted all this lavender? Don’t they know that I’m allergic?” Victor gently held his handkerchief to her nose, full of concern. Then he turned to the gardener and ordered, “Mow down all the lavender in this field. Get rid of this swing too and clear out any bird nests in the way!” That patch of lavender had been picked off the roadside by my father, back when he was sober. He used to say, “When I’m gone, the flowers are, too.” I stared at the gardener’s shovel; my eyes wide. “Wait!” I shouted. Everyone paused, glancing nervously at Victor. He frowned, his expression unreadable. “You think this is your home?” he snapped. “Do you plant whatever you want? Or are you just trying to trigger Jessy’s allergies?” When I was five, my father had fallen critically ill. I had run away to the Lane Family, begging Mrs. Lane to help him. She had wanted to kick me out, until Mr. Lane intervened. “She can stay,” he had said. “We can afford to raise a few charity cases.” And so, I lived in the Lane Family’s shadow for twenty years. Victor had once taken me quiet, withdrawn me to play with the servants’ children. He had even said, “The Lane Family will always be your home.” Right next to the lavender was a small wooden plaque, faded and old. Handwritten by Victor when he was a child, it read: “A place that belongs solely to Audrey Grey and me, a home forever.”