Chapter 2

Emma's POV

I moved into the premium single dorm the university assigned me.

As the top seed for the National Youth Medical Innovation Competition, the school provided me with first-class resources.

I'd barely finished unpacking when urgent knocking echoed from outside.

I opened the door. Ryan stood there.

He wore a perfectly tailored designer suit, clutching a bouquet of red roses—my least favorite flowers. His face was tight with that condescending look I knew too well.

"What's your problem, Emma?" Ryan didn't even step inside before launching in. "David called me. Said you not only disrespected them but ran away from home? Do you realize Sarah's condition got worse because of how upset you made her?"

Looking at this face—the same one that had carried Mia out of the fire without a backward glance—my stomach turned.

"Done? Great. Now get out." I moved to slam the door.

Ryan's hand shot out, blocking it. Shock flashed across his face. He clearly hadn't expected this attitude from me—someone who used to worship the ground he walked on.

"Emma, what the hell is wrong with you?" Ryan forced down his anger, putting on his patronizing voice. "Mia's disabled. She has severe PTSD. She's your sister—cut her some slack. She didn't break that vial on purpose. Come back with me right now, admit you were wrong, apologize to Mia, and we'll call this settled."

I caught the sickly sweet scent from his collar.

Bluebell perfume. Mia's signature scent.

In my past life, I was blind enough to believe their "brotherly concern" bullshit.

"Ryan, that perfume on your collar—Mia just left that there, didn't she?" I smiled coldly. "What, came straight from her bed to lecture me?"

Panic flashed across his face before anger took over. "What are you talking about! I was just comforting Mia and it rubbed off! Emma, when did you become such a bitch?"

"A bitch?" I laughed. "Since I'm such a bitch, we're done. It's over. Take your flowers and crawl back to your crippled girlfriend."

"What did you say? Break up?!" Ryan's eyes went wide like I'd lost my mind. "Emma, don't think having some medical talent makes you hot shit! Without my family's backing, you think you could've gotten that Hopkins offer? You're throwing a fit now, but tomorrow you'll be crying and begging me to take you back!"

"Can't wait to see that." I stared at him blankly. "Now get out before I call security."

I slammed the door in his face, cutting off his furious cursing.

Finally. Peace.

I walked to the sink and splashed cold water on my face. In the mirror—pale but fierce.

Starting today, no one gets to bleed me dry anymore.

Over the next few days, I blocked out all distractions and dove into the university's top lab, making final preparations for the National Youth Medical Innovation Competition.

But I knew Mia wouldn't stay quiet.

Sure enough, on the third day, a post went viral on the school forum.

The poster was anonymous, but anyone with eyes could tell who wrote it. Peak victim-playing, tearfully accusing a "medical genius sister."

It claimed she was jealous of her disabled sister getting parental love, deliberately smashing things at home, cruelly running away, and even threatening to cut off her mother's life-saving medication.

Attached were blurry photos—shots of the lab's destruction and Mia crying in her wheelchair.

The comments exploded. Students who didn't know the truth went crazy, calling me cold-blooded and unfit to study medicine.

My advisor Professor Williamson even called me in, hinting that I should watch my behavior and not damage the school's reputation or my competition eligibility.

I just nodded. "Professor, medicine is about facts, not gossip. I'll prove everything with my competition results."

I didn't defend myself on the forum. Once you start explaining, you give them ammunition to keep attacking.

That afternoon, my phone buzzed nonstop.

"Father" flashed across the screen.

I answered. David's voice blasted through: "Emma! You little MONSTER! Is that medicine ready yet?! Your mother started having nerve spasms this afternoon! Get over here with that drug RIGHT NOW!"

Through the phone, I heard Sarah's agonized moans in the background. My grip on the phone didn't waver.

In my past life, every time Sarah had an episode, I'd cry and race home with her medication.

Now I just felt nothing.

"Mr. Smith, I told you three days ago," I said flatly. "Materials exhausted. Original formula destroyed. New extraction takes six months."

"BULLSHIT! You definitely have more stored! You just want to watch your mother DIE, don't you?!" David screamed. "I'm ORDERING you to get back here right now! Or I'll take you to court for MURDER!"

"Go ahead." I rolled my eyes. "Just so you know, the neural repair serum is MY patent. I don't owe you anything. Good luck waiting."

I hung up and blocked that number permanently.

Setting down my phone, I glanced at a tiny camera hidden in the lab corner.

Just in case, I'd installed cameras in all the labs—including the one back home.

I knew Mia too well. She'd never just sit back and watch me compete successfully.

Just like in my past life, she'd find some way to destroy what I treasured most.