Chapter 1
The next day, as I prepared to go to the hospital for surgery, I ran into Mr. Beckett, Mrs. Beckett, and Asher. Adeline’s stomach issues had flared up again, and the whole family was anxiously by her side.
I went to the doctor’s office, confirmed my surgery time, and then left to handle my admission paperwork.
Asher saw me and grabbed my arm, with Adeline glaring fiercely behind him.
“Why are you at the hospital? Adeline’s not eating because of you, and now she’s sick. What more do you want?” Asher accused harshly.
I waved him off, “I’m not here to see you.” To me, the Beckett family had become distant, like strangers.
Since I decided not to be part of the Beckett family anymore, I would sever all ties with them, just like… my parents had done with me.
Perhaps, deep down, I did have the same cold blood as the Beckett family.
I shook off Asher and turned to leave.
I used to always watch the backs of Mr. Beckett, Mrs. Beckett, and Asher. Now I finally didn’t have to.
The biopsy results came back, confirming a stage 4 brain tumor. Surgery was no longer an option, and the child couldn’t be kept.
How could I keep the child?
When I got off the operating table, I felt like I had lost half my life.
I slept for two days, but it felt like just a light nap. If death is like this, it doesn’t seem too hard to accept.
The doctor said my abortion was successful, but the cancer had spread. I knew my time was shorter.
A month later, I was discharged, with the doctor advising me to continue chemotherapy.
It was then I received a call from Adeline. She said if I was leaving the Beckett family, I should do it thoroughly.
She arranged to meet me at the coffee shop to return my belongings.
Twenty minutes later, I arrived at the coffee shop, where Adeline was already impatiently waiting.
I didn’t expect Asher to be there too. He scrutinized me,
I had lost weight too quickly in that month, leaving me gaunt, and the pain from the cancer made my eyes dark.
“Cora, look at you. How can you compare to Adeline? You’ve brought shame to the Beckett family,” Asher said.
I didn’t respond, picked up my luggage, and prepared to leave.
Asher called after me, displeased.
Probably because I ignored him. For four years, I constantly tried to please him. When had he ever received such coldness from me?
Seeing him silent, I prepared to pull open the glass door of the coffee shop to leave.
Asher tried to grab me but unintentionally pulled my long hair… the brown wavy hair fell off.
Asher and Adeline were shocked, “Why did you shave your head?”
“Are you crazy? Don’t you care about your image at all?” Asher continued, seeing the equally shocked faces of the coffee shop customers. Adeline also scoffed at me,
“Cora, what’s your trick this time? Some people perform grand gestures for their parents, and you shave your head to prove a point?” Adeline’s words were like knives.
I laughed, “Don’t you know what it means to start over?”
I reached out to Asher, “Give me back the wig.”
Asher held my wig without speaking, it was Adeline who snatched it and threw it into my arms.
I calmly put on the wig. After all, on the street, a skinny, bald woman is quite a sight.
“Adeline, you don’t have to be so scared. I won’t return to the Beckett family,” I said with a smile, “Not in this life, not in the next.”
“I’m not scared at all. Dad, Mom, and Brother only love me,” Adeline retorted, fuming.
Before going to the hospital for chemotherapy, I went to choose my burial plot, right next to my foster parents. In my next life, I want to be their biological daughter.
This life was too painful. In the next, I just want to live like I did before I was 17.
Unexpectedly, the sales manager for the burial plot was my foster parents’ neighbor, Jasper.
He didn’t ask much or offer unnecessary comfort. Probably used to seeing life and death.
The shock he showed was likely because it was his first time dealing with the person who would use the burial plot.
Jasper seriously explained the details to me, even helping me pick an affordable urn.
Jasper accompanied me to my parents’ grave,
“Dad, Mom… I miss you.”
I quickened my pace up the stairs, 108 steps in total, standing before the familiar tombstone, only to be stunned by the scene before me!
In front of the tombstone, in foul-smelling dog blood, were large words. I rushed to the tombstone…
“Cora is a disgrace, the parents who raised her are animals!”
I fell to my knees, using my sleeve to desperately wipe it clean.
As I wiped, I apologized, “Dad, Mom, I’m sorry… it’s your unfilial daughter’s fault, even in heaven, you can’t be at peace…”
“It’s my fault, how could this happen…”
“I’m sorry, truly sorry!”
My hand rubbed the stone until the skin broke, staining my light clothes red and dirty.
Jasper returned with a bucket and cloth to help me clean.
The rain poured harder, drenching me as Jasper struggled to carry me down the hill.
I am the true heiress the Beckett family found.
But when I returned at 17, there was already a fake heiress my age, Adeline.
Adeline, what a lovely name, gathering all the Beckett family’s love.
Before I went missing, I was called Pearl Beckett, the apple of my parents’ eye.
In the four years since I returned, no one remembered to change my surname back to Beckett.
I continued using the name my foster parents gave me, Cora Liu.
My foster parents treated me well. Unable to have children, they thought finding me was a blessing,
They said they would always cherish me as a treasure.
But when the school’s blood donation uploaded my DNA to the network, my biological parents, who had been separated for 13 years, found me.
My foster parents still let me go back. They believed I could gain better educational resources in the Beckett family,
At least I wouldn’t need to work while studying.
But now, I’m going to die, brain tumor, terminal stage.
Even my foster parents are being humiliated like this, I feel my heart and guts are being viciously squeezed.
They don’t love me, and I don’t want to love them anymore.
I just want to live for myself at the end of my life.
Tomorrow is the painless surgery, but why must I witness my beloved foster parents being so insulted?
My foster mother died when I was 12, and my foster father passed away unexpectedly last year.
Can’t the deceased even leave quietly?
My impressions of Mr. and Mrs. Beckett from childhood are vague.
I only remember my brother Asher, who is five years older, taking me to the amusement park.
He told me to wait for him to buy ice cream.
I waited from morning till night, but my brother never returned.
In the end, it was the theme park’s cleaning lady, my foster mother, who found me and took me home.
On the first day back at the Beckett house, Adeline cried and said to me, “I don’t want anything. I know I’ve taken my sister’s place all these years, but I just want to stay with Dad, Mom, and Brother. Please, sister, don’t drive me away.”
And what did my brother Asher, who lost me, do? He pushed me aside,
“Adeline, no one will drive you away, nor will anyone dare. You are my sister, my only sister.” Asher held Adeline tightly, glaring at me.
It was as if I were a villain trying to tear their family apart.
My biological mother, with red eyes, looked at Adeline and choked out to me, “Cora, when you went missing, your mother went crazy, so your father brought Adeline home. Adeline accompanied me through the days and nights without you.”
When I turned to look at Adeline, she smirked at me provocatively: “Mom, let’s not talk about this now. Let sister stay in my room tonight, the guest room isn’t ready.”
Adeline emphasized “guest room.”
“How can that be, Adeline, you’re picky about beds. You won’t sleep well if you change rooms.” My mom quickly said, but catching herself, stopped abruptly, realizing I was still there.
For the next four years, I lived in the guest room next to the nanny’s room on the first floor and never moved again.
I don’t want to think about it anymore. I can’t think about it.
The first chemotherapy session, the pain made cold sweat stick to my face, dripping down.
The pain was excruciating, and the doctor asked if I had any family with me. I didn’t answer.
But when I saw Jasper at the door of the operating room, I felt somewhat relieved. I wasn’t alone.
Being alone is too lonely. I needed someone with me, at least for this last journey, someone to help bury me.
Over the next four years, I stayed in the guest room next to the nanny’s room on the first floor and never moved again. I tried to stop thinking about it; I couldn’t afford to dwell on it any longer.