Take Your Love, I'll Take the Fortune

All the relatives knew I had a "backward cousin."

For my birthday, she gave me a grocery-store pound cake.

When I ran a marathon, she presented me with a pair of worn-out canvas sneakers.

At my graduate school acceptance party, she even sent a funeral wreath of white lilies with a sash that read "In Sympathy," wishing me an early departure to the afterlife.

In my previous life, I slapped her so hard she tumbled down the porch steps.

My brother took her side and plotted revenge, falsely reporting to the university that I had cheated on my SATs. My admission was revoked.

"You're so modern. You know how things work," he sneered. "Plenty of people take a gap year. Just apply again."

My father also defended her, cutting off all my financial support.

"You've had so much schooling. You're so educated," he said coldly. "Support yourself."

Alone in a city eighteen hundred miles from home, I fought to survive. I called my brother and my father again and again—only to be blocked.

I delivered food while renting a room and studying to reapply.

At my lowest, my hands were raw and cracked from frostbite, scrambling for delivery shifts at four in the morning just to earn a small bonus.

Worn down by the cold and exhaustion, I suffered cardiac arrest at twenty-three and collapsed in a snowdrift in that unfamiliar city. No one ever came to claim me.

This time, I chose to let it go and accepted the wreath with a gracious smile.

To fully integrate myself into this family.

After all, what is a moment of pride compared to a lifetime's inheritance?

Under the scrutiny of the entire school faculty and my fellow students, I accepted the funeral wreath with a bright, unwavering smile.

I made no complaint. Instead, I gently comforted my cousin.

"You're just a bit traditional. You don't always get modern customs," I said kindly. "But I know you meant well, dear cousin."

Unlike my last life, my brother Nick didn't pin me down in public and force me to endure ten slaps from her to soothe her pride after I'd struck her.

This time, his eyes held only barely concealed concern.

"Today was supposed to be your big celebration. Audrey, she… Cathy really doesn't know any better. You were put in an awkward position."

My father squeezed my shoulder. His approving look carried a hint of remorse.

"Haven't you always wanted a stake in the family holdings?" he said. "I'll have legal draw up the papers today. Five percent is yours."

After a pause, he added, "You handled this with grace. Don't hold it against your cousin."

A flicker of cold irony passed through my gaze.

I'd been asking my father for shares in the trust since I turned eighteen.

Every time, he had a new excuse—too young, didn't understand the portfolio, needed more education.

In my last life, desperate to prove myself, I burned the candle at both ends through college. I studied relentlessly, entered case competitions, joined leadership boards. I honed my pitch, practiced diplomacy, even launched a startup.

In the end, I was given a token one percent.

Yet now, simply to keep me from making a scene over my cousin's blunder, my father casually offered five.

"It was an honest mistake," I said softly. "I'm not upset."

The faint note of loneliness in my voice made my brother's chest tighten.

"That solid gold Art Deco necklace you've always admired—it's yours."

That piece was a museum-grade antique, appraised at over three million.

I lowered my eyes and feigned refusal.

My cousin's eyes welled up as she pouted. "If you don't want it, then let me have it! I don't know much about heirlooms, but I love gold!"

My brother looked torn and shot me a pleading glance.

I let out a quiet breath. You can't land the big fish without letting go of a little bait. Besides, even if the necklace were mine, I'd have nowhere to secure it.

I didn't have an eight-hundred-square-meter mansion like my brother.

"Gold has a very classic feel," I said lightly. "It suits you perfectly, cousin."

Smiling, I took her hand.

"Dad already gave me my graduation gift. If Cathy wants the necklace, she should have it. As for you making it up to me—it's really not necessary."

My brother opened his mouth to chide me for being petty when I added, "Running the company must be exhausting. I should be more understanding."

The rebuke died in his throat.

The guilt in his eyes deepened. He didn't even acknowledge my cousin's sulking anymore.

I glanced down at my vibrating phone.

[Transfer Received: 1,500,000 dollars]

Another message followed from my brother: [Pick any car from the collection in my garage. The keys are yours.]

I glanced casually at my brother, still typing with his head down. No warmth rose in my chest—only a vast, quiet chill.