CHAPTER 1: THE BEGINNING OF REBIRTH
716words
I, Emma Sinclair, stood before my own gravestone, staring at the cold marble that bore my name and the brief span of my existence. Twenty-six years of life, ended so abruptly.
I had thought death would bring release, but instead, my soul remained tethered here, forced to witness the pitiful affair that barely qualified as a funeral.
No somber music played. No eulogies were read. No family or friends came to mourn. There was only a solitary figure in a black coat, holding an umbrella, standing silently before my grave.
His tall silhouette stood stark and lonely against the rain-soaked backdrop. He bent down, gently placing a bouquet of pristine white lilies at the foot of my stone.
"Who are you?" my spirit whispered. I couldn't see his face, but something about his form seemed hauntingly familiar, yet just beyond the reach of recognition.
Who was this man? Why was he the only one to bid me farewell?
The stranger lingered for a long while before finally turning away, his retreating figure dissolving into a mere shadow through the curtain of rain.
I tried to follow, but felt my soul pulled by some unseen force. The scene before me warped and shifted—
Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead. Exquisite floral arrangements adorned every surface. The cheerful melody of "Happy Birthday" filled the air.
In the grand ballroom of the Sinclair mansion, an extravagant birthday celebration was underway. Olivia stood before a towering cake, resplendent in a custom-made pink gown, her face radiant with joy. My biological parents flanked her, their eyes brimming with adoration and pride.
"Make a wish, Olivia," my mother said tenderly.
Olivia closed her eyes, pressed her palms together in prayer, a smug smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"I wish for the continued success of Sinclair Industries, and for Mom, Dad, and Alexander to always be healthy and happy."
Applause erupted from the guests. My father squeezed her shoulder approvingly. "That's my wonderful daughter."
Alexander wrapped an arm around her. "Happy birthday, Olivia."
My spirit hovered above the festivities, watching with detached bitterness. I had been dead for merely three days, and already my so-called "family" had resumed their lives, even throwing this lavish celebration.
No one mentioned me. No one mourned my passing. It was as if I had never existed at all.
"So, I truly never belonged to you," I laughed mirthlessly.
I recalled my desperate efforts—how I had studied relentlessly to outshine Olivia, graduating top of my class and securing admission to an elite university; how I had abandoned my passion for biotechnology to pursue business instead; how I had worked myself to exhaustion for the sake of Sinclair Industries, sacrificing my health and youth.
And what had I received in return?
"Emma, you're so selfish! Always trying to outdo Olivia just to get attention!"
"Your ruthless tactics are not the Sinclair way!"
"How could someone so aggressive ever represent our family properly?"
Most ironic of all, when I collapsed from overwork, not a single "family member" visited me in the hospital. And when the Sinclairs' enemies came for revenge, I faced them alone, ultimately plummeting from that high-rise building.
"How absurd..." I murmured to myself. "Everything I fought so desperately to earn was never meant to be mine in the first place."
In the ballroom below, Olivia was cutting her cake. My father raised his glass: "A toast to our wonderful daughter!"
"To Olivia!" the crowd echoed in unison.
Watching this scene, the last flicker of hope in my heart extinguished completely. I had yearned so desperately to be part of this family, to earn my parents' approval and my brother's affection. But now I understood—blood ties do not guarantee true family bonds. All my efforts and sacrifices had been nothing but a cruel joke to them.
Suddenly, a blinding light descended from above, enveloping my soul.
"Is it finally time to depart?" I closed my eyes, feeling an unexpected sense of relief. "Perhaps it's for the best. Such a life isn't worth having..."
The light grew increasingly intense. I felt my consciousness being pulled, consumed, reconstructed.
In that fleeting moment, I thought I remembered the stranger's identity. But before I could grasp it, my awareness plunged into oblivion.
