Fatal Trap: Intertwined Destinies

In the past, my father suffered a sudden heart attack due to his old age, but the surgery still had a forty percent chance of success.

However, during those days, Tomas was preoccupied with repaying the mortgage, and the post-operative medical expenses were exorbitant. In the end, fearing it would all be a waste of money, he simply chose to forgo the surgery.

My gaze fell upon the man in the black and white photo, whose face was lined with wrinkles. I thought, "It is ridiculous, really. The eldest son you have cherished your whole life couldn't even muster the will to try to save you."

Tomas' heavily pregnant wife, Amanda Danes, sensing the tension, cheerfully intervened.

"We're all family here, all family.

"Claire, you're all grown up now. Why create such an ugly scene?"

I thought, "Are you kidding? I'm creating a scene?" I couldn't be bothered with this hypocritical woman who always twisted the truth and only knew how to put on a facade.

When my father fell ill, she didn't hesitate to advise Tomas to give up the surgery.

Turning towards the photo on the table, I bowed respectfully.

I thought, "You never really raised me, so this bow is a token of repaying the debt of birth."

Approaching the table, my mother, Kadee Danes, shot me a venomous look, her face unwelcoming.

In my past life, I would have been meek in front of her. All my courage had been used to secretly escape the village to attend university.

But the memory of my mother standing by coldly as I was held underwater by Lizzy, watching me struggle for air, lingered.

She said, "Let her die, one life for another."

From that moment on, the mother-daughter bond between us was irreparably severed.

Feeling disheartened, I avoided her gaze while Amanda enthusiastically gestured for me to sit.

As I settled down, she proudly patted her six-month baby bump.

"Look how round my belly is now, Claire. You're going to have a nephew soon."

"A nephew? Isn't it against hospital rules to reveal the gender?"

I stared at her belly, remaining silent.

In fact, until the moment of my death, I never knew whether the child was a boy or a girl.

Because, in the end, they never made it.

Amanda prattled on, oblivious to my puzzled expression.

"Mom consulted the village fortune teller. It's definitely going to be a chubby little boy.

"If it weren't for giving birth to Lizzy, would my body have suffered so much all these years?"

As soon as I heard that name, my hand trembled uncontrollably for a moment before returning to normal.

Amanda continued, "The fortune teller was right. She's a harbinger of misfortune, sent to plague me..."

In the past, I would have harshly interrupted Amanda, reprimanding her for treating her own daughter so callously.

I would have been seeking justice for Lizzy, but also, in a way, seeking justice for my childhood self who had endured injustice.

Born into a family that favored sons over daughters, Lizzy, like me, was unfortunate.

But her misfortune wasn't caused by me. Thinking back to the suffocating sensation of drowning, this time, I simply listened quietly, choosing not to engage.

After checking the time, I found an excuse to leave.

Dodging the crowd, I made my way towards the kitchen, where, just like in my memories, my twelve-year-old niece, Lizzy, stood in front of a large pot, pouring some mysterious substance into it.