Prologue: Rose Funeral
358words
"It's finally ending," I think, each breath in my lungs painful like knife cuts.
Through the shattered window, I see that familiar face—Clara Sinclair, my "sister," the treasured daughter of the Sinclair family, standing at a safe distance with a victorious smile on her lips.
"Clean it up," Clara says to someone on the other end of the phone, her voice reaching my ears clearly. "Make sure there are no survivors."
Memories rushed in like a tidal wave. The switched drug test report that marked me as a "genetic defect carrier"; my fiancé Ethan's elaborate scheme to push me into the abyss with charges of stealing trade secrets; my adoptive parents coldly signing away their guardianship rights, as if I were merely a failed investment.
"I was never truly part of the Sinclair family, was I?" I smiled bitterly, fingers clutching the family crest pendant around my neck—my only proof of identity.
Flames consumed everything, and in the excruciating pain, the pendant burned against my skin. In the final moment of my life, I closed my eyes with only one thought: if I could start over, I would make them pay.
In an instant, the pain vanished. The silence of death was broken by sudden sounds.
Blinding lights, the clamor of a meeting room, the arguing voices of board members. I sat up abruptly, looking around—this was the Sinclair Pharmaceutical Group boardroom from five years ago.
"Miss Vivian, what do you think about the new drug development plan?" The chairman's voice pulled me back to reality.
I looked down at my chest, where the family crest necklace was burning hot, as if just taken from fire. Death seemed like just an illusion, and this—this was my reality. The Sinclair Tower from five years ago, the me from five years ago.
Fate has dealt me a chance to start over, and this time, I will rewrite the rules of the game.
