Blurb：
After two tragic lives—strangled by Dad in the first, pushed down the stairs by a stepsister in the second—Yvonne is reborn again. This time, she won’t be a pawn in her parents’ twisted games. As she holds the rose from the school event, Yvonne recalls how giving it to Aunt Luna ruined her first life, and giving it to Mom backfired in the second. Now, she masterfully hands the rose to Luna, exposing Mom’s hypocrisy and leaving Dad stunned. With silent treatments and mind games, Mom thinks she can control Yvonne, but this time, Yvonne is playing to win. Will she outsmart the lunatics and seize her destiny? Dive into a tale of rebirth, revenge, and redemption where every choice matters.
Content：
This is my third time being reborn.
In my first life, I gave the rose I got from school to my dad’s old flame, and my mom labeled me an ungrateful brat.
After Mom said she’d had enough of me and Dad, she left. Then, consumed by guilt, Dad strangled me with his own hands.
In my second life, I learned my lesson and put Mom first in everything. That time, she chose to leave my father and took me with her.
But I ended up becoming a pawn of their twisted game—and later, a prop in her new family’ dramas. Eventually, I was pushed down the stairs by her stepdaughter.
This time, I’ve decided to cherish my life and stay far away from these lunatics.
I realized I’d been reborn again while holding the rose from the school event.
I was standing at the front door, my hand about to press the doorbell.
In my first life, when I opened the door, Mom, Dad, and his old flame, Aunt Luna, were all staring at me.
Seeing the rose in my hand, Dad was thrilled. He said to Aunt Luna, “Looks like little Yvonne has a connection with you—she brought your favorite flower on your first meeting.”
Then he took the rose from me and handed it to Aunt Luna.
Because of that, my mom resented me for the rest of her life.
After the divorce, she never acknowledged me again.
Even when Dad strangled me in a fit of rage, she didn’t shed a single tear.
She just said coldly, “That’s what an ungrateful brat deserves. Since she chose her cheating dad and that homewrecker, her death was her own fault.”
In my second life, as soon as Dad finished speaking, I clutched the rose tightly and handed it to Mom, saying loudly, “I don’t even know this lady. Why would I give her anything? This is for you, Mom.”
For that, Dad slapped me across the face. The next day, that rose ended up in the trash.
Mom told the housekeeper, “How tacky. Who even likes such tasteless flowers?”
Just as I snapped back to reality, the door swung open. Three pairs of eyes locked onto me.
I strode right up to Aunt Luna, handed her the rose, and said with a sweet smile, “You’re so pretty, ma’am. I got this rose from school. It’s nothing special, but I wanted to give it to you. Hope you have a wonderful day.”
Aunt Luna looked startled but thanked me warmly.
I glanced at my father—he looked like someone had just snatched two million dollars right out of his hands. I felt a secret thrill.
“So, you both adore her. I carried you for nine months, went through hell to bring you into this world, and this is my reward?. Fine. You two really deserve each other.” Her face was a mask of betrayed righteousness..
I smiled serenely. “Mom, I thought you didn’t like roses. Remember on Mother’s Day when I gave you roses, and you threw them away?”
“Why do you want this one now? Is it really about the rose—or just about taking something from this lady?”
Mom’s face turned pale. “What nonsense! Since when have I ever disliked roses?”
“You’ve never liked them. Everyone in this house knows that. Ask Martha, ask Dorothy—they’ll tell you.”
“And weren’t you the one who ordered the rose bushes in the garden torn out? You and Dad had a huge fight over it—even Grandpa got involved. Don’t tell me you forgot?” I feigned surprise.
Watching everyone’s mixed reactions, I felt deeply satisfied. That’s right. Turnabout is fair play.
This time, I’m going to beat the lunatics at their own game.
In the days that followed, Mom gave me the silent treatment.
It was her go-to move. Whenever I did something she didn’t like, she wouldn’t say it outright. She’d just sigh about how unlucky she was—a husband who didn’t love her, a daughter who was disobedient and disloyal.
Then she’d ignore me for days or even weeks.
She’d watch me get scared and miserable, begging for her forgiveness, while she coldly looked right through me.
Only when she felt I’d been punished enough would she finally “forgive” me, then warn, “I love you so much—how could you hurt me like this? If you ever do it again, I’ll never speak to you again.”
This time, I couldn’t be bothered to play my part.
Her ignoring me was a welcome relief.
Whatever love I had for her vanished in my last life, when she stood by and watched her stepdaughter push me down the stairs, then calmly helped her cover it up.
Two days later, I walked out of school, but the family car wasn’t there.
“Upgrading her tactics,” I muttered, dialing the driver’s number. That mother of mine really had no love for me at all.
She’d done this often in my first life.
I don’t even remember why, but she’d deliberately not pick me up from school or send the driver.
I, just a little kid,would wait at the school gate, watching all my friends get picked up one by one, calling Mom over and over—but she never answered.
I was scared. And guilty. Yeah, guilty. I felt guilty that my mother wasn’t coming, because I’d been conditioned to believe it was my fault for upsetting her. That was my punishment.
That day, I was ten years old. I’d never gone out alone. I waited until the very last kid was gone before it hit me: my mom wasn’t coming.
Too scared to take a taxi, I asked for directions, took three different buses, and walked for miles. I didn’t get home until eleven at night.
And what did I get? Dad yelling, “Where have you been? It’s so late!”
Exhausted and terrified, I tried to explain, but I was shaking too hard to speak. Then I passed out.
When I woke up, Mom was crying over me. “There was just a little traffic, and you made such a scene! Are you trying to make us feel guilty?”
Lying in that hospital bed, hearing her say that, I felt so guilty.
It wasn’t until much later I learned the truth: there was no traffic. My dear mom had been sitting in a café killing time until well after dark, deciding my punishment was sufficient then sending the driver.
Remembering all that, I smirked. This time, none of you will ever manipulate me with your cheap version of love again.
The driver picked up. “Miss?”
“Where are you? I don’t see you at the school gate.” My voice was cold.
“Miss, I’m at the Midtown Plaza. Mrs. Sterling is shopping.”
“As I recall, you were hired by the Sterling family specifically to drive me to and from school. Is that correct?” I asked lightly.
“I’m out of school now, and your car isn’t here. If I take a cab and something happens…” I paused.
“You know my mom—she’s great at playing the victim in front of my dad. And since she’s my mother, even if she messes up badly, people will go easy on her.”
“But you—the driver hired specifically for my safety—what do you think will happen to you? Best case, you’re fired. And good luck finding another job in this line of work.”
I heard the driver gulp. “I’ll be right there, Miss.”
“Since my dear mom wants me to be without a ride, let’s see how she likes being stranded without her car.”
Mom had to take a taxi home that day.
She glared at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Yvonne, do I now need your permission to use a driver? You’re so selfish. You’ve really disappointed me.”
I almost laughed at her audacity.
“Mom, it’s not like we only have one driver. I saw David—the one Grandpa assigned to you—just sitting around doing nothing.”
“Or do you have some problem with David? Is that why you had to send my driver, Henry, to chauffeur you shopping during my pickup time?”
Mom was speechless. This was her usual move: whenever Dad or I didn’t do what she wanted, she’d play the martyr to make us feel guilty.
It never really worked on Dad, but on me—in my past lives—it worked every time.
But now? I didn’t feel an ounce of sympathy.
“I just thought it would be more efficient to pick you up after shopping. No need to bother David,” she said, her voice trembling like she was about to cry.
“But the fact is, you didn’t plan well. You caused trouble for me, for Henry, and for yourself. So next time, Mom, please don’t create problems for everyone just to make a point, okay?”
Before turning away, I made sure everyone could hear me: “If you keep refusing to let David do his job, eventually he’ll have nothing to do. And if he has nothing to do for too long, he might lose his job.”
I looked right at her. “Dad always says: this family doesn’t carry dead weight.”
After that, maybe because she saw I wasn’t buying her act anymore, Mom laid low for a while.
Until one day I came home and saw Jessica—my stepsister from my previous life—sitting on our sofa.
Mom was cozy next to her, peeling lychees for her.
They were huddled over a phone, laughing like best friends.
When I walked in, Mom didn’t even glance my way. She acted like I was invisible.
Her voice got even sweeter as she talked to Jessica. “I like you so much, sweetheart. If I had a daughter like you, I’d be the happiest mom alive.”
I rolled my eyes. Yeah, so happy you’d scare whoever sleeps next to you.
As I turned to go upstairs, Mom said, “Yvonne, I’m letting Jessica stay with us for a while. Go pack your things and clear out your room for her.”
If I hadn’t lived through two lifetimes of this nonsense, I would’ve been stunned.
“Why?” I asked.
She sounded like she’d rehearsed this. “Because I designed that room for my beloved daughter. Look at you now—you’re nothing like the daughter I wanted. So I’m giving your room to Jessica.”
She said it like she was some proud queen.
“Besides, it’s just a room. It’s not a big deal to let her use it.”
I almost laughed. “Sorry, Mom, but that’s the main guest suite—for the daughter of the Sterling family.”
I continued, “This young lady isn’t your and Dad’s child, is she?”
Mom’s face flushed red. “Who says she can’t stay? She’s my goddaughter. What I say goes.”
Maybe because I’d been defying her lately, Mom had dropped her poor-sad-victim act and showed her true self.
I looked at her like she was a misbehaving child. “Mom, our mother-daughter relationship, your marriage to Dad—these are bound by blood and law.”
“That’s why, as much as Dad might admire Aunt Luna, he would never ask you give your room to her.”
“By your logic, since you designed the room, you can take it away from me anytime. Well, this house was bought by Dad. So if he wants, can he just give your room to Aunt Luna or some other woman someday?”
Mom was stuttering, unable to form a response.
I didn’t feel an ounce of victory.
In my past lives, I loved her. I cared about her. That’s why she could control my emotions so easily.
I’d be over the moon for days if she praised me. I’d want to die if she ignored me.
Because she was my mom. Isn’t a mother’s love supposed to be unconditional? Why was mine so cruel?
I didn’t want to watch their pathetic performance anymore. I turned and went straight to my room.
When I closed the door, I cried—for the last time, I told myself. The last time I’d ever cry for these unfit parents.
Since my rebirth, one of my main goals had been to change the events of my twelfth birthday and save the one true victim.
When I was twelve, after a company dinner, Dad was seen with Aunt Luna at a hotel.
Half an hour later, Mom got a tip and went to “catch them in the act.”
She opened the door and found Aunt Luna half-undressed on the bed, and my scumbag dad pulling up his pants.
Then, out of nowhere, paparazzi swarmed the place…
For weeks, the scandal was everywhere.
Aunt Luna was forced to move abroad.
Mom gave up on Dad completely, swiftly divorced my father and ran off with her new man—Uncle Jack.
In my first life, I blamed Aunt Luna. I thought she seduced Dad and broke Mom’s heart.
In my second life, Dad went to Uncle Jack’s house, begging Mom to come back, but she refused.
I overheard Uncle Jack confessed that he had drugged Aunt Laura’s drink. He had impersonated her, sending my father a message inviting him to her room.
I remember his sneering words, “You fell for such an obvious trap, you idiot.”
“Was she worth it, by the way? You should thank me—after all those years of chasing her, you finally got a taste.”
That’s when I realized: selfish people never feel guilt. They just think you’re in their way.
I suddenly felt sorry for Aunt Luna.
I remembered: whenever Dad tried to hit me for siding with Mom, it was never Mom who stopped him—it was Aunt Luna, the woman I’d always treated coldly.
On the night of the company dinner, I insisted Dad take me along.
I kept an eye on that Jack guy. When Aunt Luna accepted a drink from a waiter, I made up an excuse to have her take me to the restroom.
I showed her the video I’d secretly recorded: Jack slipping something into a glass and subtly handing it to her.
Aunt Luna looked confused at first—then her face went pale.
She hugged me tightly and kissed my forehead.
“Thank you, sweetheart. You have no idea what you’ve just saved me from a world of trouble. Jack’s gone too far this time.”
I didn’t ask what she planned to do.
First, I didn’t want to seem too clever for a twelve-year-old. Recording everything and showing her was already pushing it.
Second, I trusted Aunt Luna—once she knew the truth, she’d handle it.
Everything unfolded like before: someone “spotted” Dad at the hotel, Mom rushed over to catch him.
But this time, when the door opened, it was two men together.
The paparazzi went wild. “Sterling CEO Cheats with Business Rival—Caught by Wife!” You can’t buy headlines like that.
Infidelity, a male mistress, the elite circles… It was a perfect storm of tabloid keywords.
Mom stood frozen. Her husband—the man she loved—and her new flame—the man who’d been so sweet to her—were together?!
I bet her whole world shattered right then.
Aunt Luna peeked out from the next room. Spotting me in the crowd, she pulled me close, shielding my eyes. “Don’t look, sweetheart,” she whispered ” It’s not for kids.”
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