My husband and I had decided long ago that we wouldn't have children, which meant my niece was set to inherit everything when we passed away.

Upon learning this, my niece was so grateful that she moved into my home under the guise of being filial.

Every day, she cooked extravagant meals, only to serve me a plate of salad, reminding me.

"Aunt Isolde, you need to keep yourself in shape. Otherwise, Uncle Roderick might lose interest in you."

She bought herself expensive skincare products but handed me a bottle of basic oil, saying,

"Aunt Isolde, all those fancy creams are loaded with chemicals. You wouldn't want them to damage your face, right? Uncle Roderick might leave you!"

When my husband had second thoughts about having kids, she made herself right at home in his bed, whispering to me,

"Aunt Isolde, hurry up and go to hell already. I need your inheritance to raise my baby!"

I died filled with anger and regret. But then, I was reborn.

1

"Aunt Isolde, can I live with you? Is that okay?"

The sweet voice startled me. It took me a second to realize I had been reborn.

In my past life, my niece, Anne Fleming, had just graduated and was looking for a place to stay. She asked if she could move in with us.

My husband, Roderick Blake, and I were both child-free and treated Anne like our own daughter. We eagerly prepared a room and welcomed her into our home.

Little did I know that Anne wasn't just looking for a place to stay. She intended to take over the house.

She had me pay eight thousand dollars a month for groceries, promising to take care of all the meals, but I was served only salads and vegetable soup.

She convinced me to let her use my car, promising to drive me to and from work, but I ended up taking the subway home late at night.

Bit by bit, she drained me of everything. And whenever I scolded her, she'd cry and apologize, insisting it was all for my own good.

When I couldn't stand it any longer, I asked my brother, Danny Fleming, and his wife, Tina Fleming, to take their daughter Anne back, but they lashed out at me and called me ungrateful.

Even my parents sided with Anne, berating me without mercy.

"You're not having kids anyway, so why do you care? Everything you have will go to Anne eventually. What's there to make a big deal about?"

Even Roderick reprimanded and accused me, saying, "If it weren't for Anne taking care of me, I wouldn't even get a proper meal! If you send her away, I'll divorce you!"

I was stunned when he told me about that.

I thought, "How had it come to this? After all, I was the one supporting the entire family. But I am somehow the villain now."

Utterly disheartened and unable to handle the demands of my job as I grew older, I decided to travel the world to clear my mind.

But the day before I left, I ate the breakfast Anne had prepared for me. I was struck with unbearable pain and vomited blood, and then I died.

I didn't vanish immediately. Instead, I watched as Roderick stuffed my body into a suitcase and dumped it into the sea.

He lived happily ever after with Anne, spending my money to raise their son.

I hated myself for being so blind, for not seeing the truth until it was too late. But then, one day, I was given another chance. I was reborn.

"Aunt Isolde, don't you want to live with me? I can cook and drive. I won't be any trouble!"

Anne's voice was sugary sweet as she repeated her request, this time louder.

I snapped out of my thoughts, looked at her sweet face, and let out a sneer.

"If you can cook and drive, why not become a nanny? They might even offer room and board!"

Anne stood there, stunned. Before she could respond, a middle-aged woman sprang up from the couch, hands on her hips, shouting.

"You can't have kids anyway! This house will be Anne's eventually. She can live there if she wants! She's asking out of respect. Don't push your luck!"

The woman yelling was my sister-in-law, Tina, Anne's mother.

She was sharp-tongued, with a twisted, vicious expression that brought back memories of how she had guided Roderick in cutting up my body and shoving it into a suitcase.

Tina had even claimed a room for herself in my house.

I shot her a frosty glance.

"Who said I can't have children? Did the OBGYN call you, or did a god whisper it to you in a dream?"

Anne blurted out, "But Uncle Roderick said you two haven't been intimate in years..."

The moment she spoke, she instantly realized her mistake. Feeling a surge of guilt, she quickly fell silent, her head dropping as she avoided meeting my eyes.

My heart filled with bitter irony.

I felt my suspicions deepen while thinking, "Maybe Roderick and Anne have already started their affair by this time."

I glanced toward the balcony, where Roderick stood, hiding behind the curtains, eavesdropping on our conversation.

A steely resolve formed within me. In my mind, I vowed. "None of you are getting away with this."