The Real Heir Chose Death,Now They're All Drowning in Regret

When the killer found the house, the fake young master yanked me out of the chest I was hiding in.

And crawled inside himself.

But the killer went straight for the chest.

The fake young master took thirty stab wounds.

I survived, curled up beneath the bed.

When my parents found out, they held me gently:

"Thank God he pulled you out. Otherwise it would've been you."

"Roy brought it on himself. Don't feel guilty."

For the next five years, I graduated, joined the family business, and entered an arranged marriage.

On my wedding day, a truck ran me over.

My parents pried the phone from my hand and hung up my emergency call.

"Five years. It's finally time you felt what he felt."

"Those thirty stab wounds Roy took must have hurt too, don't you think?"

I reached out to my sister, the renowned medical prodigy.

She stepped back, eyes rimmed red:

"Now you know what pain feels like. When Roy was suffering, why didn't you protect him?"

Even my wife climbed down from the truck:

"Why was it you who came back that day, and not him?"

Then I understood.

No one in this family ever wanted me to come back.

When I opened my eyes again, the fake young master was about to drag me out.

I grabbed the lid of the chest and locked it shut.

...

"Lambert Vance! What are you doing? Open this chest!"

The fake young master, Roy Vance, lost it.

I just watched him through the gap in the chest.

I had no intention of opening it.

Footsteps sounded outside the door.

Roy clamped a hand over his mouth.

Panicking.

Just as I had in my previous life, he scrambled under the bed.

The door opened.

Same as before.

The footsteps came straight for the chest.

The chest Roy couldn't open was nothing for the killer.

But then, I'd never planned to hide.

The cold blade sank into my chest.

I stared at the ceiling.

Tears slid from the corners of my eyes.

Those thirty stab wounds Roy had taken. Now I felt every one of them.

It really did hurt.

I closed my eyes.

Dad. Mom. Theresa Vance.

What you wanted me to feel, I've felt it now.

This time, the one who goes back won't be me.

After the thirtieth stab, the killer left without a backward glance.

When Roy crawled out from under the bed, he could barely stand.

"How did this happen... How did this happen?!"

I floated in the air above him.

Watched him stare at the body in the chest, looking like he was about to be sick.

I understood. In my previous life, I'd looked exactly the same.

And then, just as I had, he bolted, stumbling, desperate, running home to beg our parents for help.

I watched his staggering figure disappear.

A bitter laugh escaped me.

This time, they'd finally get what they always wanted.

I had always believed that as the Vance family's real son, lost for twenty years, the fact that I survived should have meant something. That my family would at least be relieved.

It wasn't until the moment I died that I realized this family had never been mine.

And no one, not a single person, had ever wished that I was the one who came back.

Sure enough, the instant they saw it was Roy stepping off the vehicle, the whole family's eyes went red with tears.

No scanning the road like last time.

No hesitation.

They threw themselves at him without a second thought, pulling Roy into their arms:

"Roy's safe! Oh, you scared Mommy half to death!"

It wasn't fair.

In my previous life, the first thing they'd asked me was where my brother was.

Only after Theresa checked Roy over and confirmed he wasn't hurt did the family finally exhale.

Then, almost as an afterthought, someone glanced toward the vehicle:

"Where's your brother? Why didn't he come back with you?"

Roy's gaze flickered, just for a moment:

"When the intruder came... he shoved me forward and jumped out the window to save himself."

What?

Mom's hands rested on Roy's shoulders.

The worry on her face curdled into a sigh of disgust.

"That's exactly the kind of thing he'd do."

I froze in midair.

I turned to look at the others.

Dad's expression went cold. "I knew he had some issues with Roy, but this is beyond the pale. I thought he was just being difficult. I never imagined he was capable of something this inhuman!"

I shook my head.

No, Dad. Mom. That's not what happened...

Theresa said nothing.

She simply steadied Roy's trembling body.

"Let Roy rest first."

I drifted to the doorway of Roy's room.

From inside came the muffled sound of a phone call.

"What kind of hitman did you hire? He just walked in and started stabbing without even checking who it was?"

"This was supposed to be an act! He was supposed to puncture the blood packs I was wearing so it'd look like that bastard hired someone to kill me. Now the guy's actually dead!"

"How am I supposed to clean this up?"

I went still.

What?

Roy hired the killer?

Blood packs? What blood packs?

In my last life... Roy wasn't actually stabbed?

I watched Roy pace back and forth across the room, clawing at his hair in agitation.

"Everything was going perfectly! I'd play dead, and you'd leak word that the bastard hired someone to have me killed. They'd be eaten alive with guilt, and they'd hate him for it. Then I'd find the right moment to come back, and I'd be the Vance family's one and only son."

"But that useless piece of trash didn't even look before he killed someone, and Lambert wasn't wearing blood packs! He's actually dead! How am I supposed to fix this?"

Tears fell from my eyes before I realized it.

So that's why.

That's why, in my last life, Mom, Dad, Theresa, even my fiance... they all hated me so much.

They thought I was the one who killed Roy.

Roy never died at all.

"Fine. Before anyone notices, get your people here now. The body and the chest, get rid of all of it. I'll figure out the rest."

Roy's car was parked by the river.

His men hauled the chest out of the trunk.

"Packed it full of rocks? You're sure it won't float?"

"Yes, sir."

The heat was brutal.

The chest already smelled.

Roy covered his nose and jerked his chin toward the water.

The men had just lifted the chest when a familiar voice called out.

"Roy!"

He whipped around.

His men flinched. The chest slipped from their grip and hit the ground with a sharp crack. The lock popped, and the lid cracked open just a sliver.

"What are you doing out here? You disappeared without a word."

Theresa walked toward them.

The smell seeped out of the chest.

She was a medical prodigy. A surgeon of the highest caliber.

She knew that smell better than anyone.

"What's inside?"

She frowned sharply.

Decomposition. She could identify it in an instant.

"Inside..."

Cold sweat rolled down Roy's forehead.

I stared at Theresa, heart pounding.

Theresa. Please. Open it.

I know we didn't grow up together.

But I'm your brother. Your real brother.

Don't let me sink to the bottom of the river.

Don't let me disappear without a trace.

Please, Theresa...

"Theresa!"

She was already striding forward. Roy scrambled to stop her, but it was too late.

Her hand seized the lid and wrenched it upward.

"Ahhh!"

Roy staggered back and collapsed to the ground.

"Roy?" Theresa turned.

"Sis... inside... I think there's a body!"

I stared at him, hollow.

Roy flinched and shrank back in alarm.

Theresa immediately set the chest down and rushed to steady him. "It's not. It can't be a body. You're okay."

"Sis... this chest was sent to me by Lambert."

Juliana and Theresa both froze at the same time.

"He said this is what I deserved all alongto end up inside a box like this.

"I smelled something wrong, but I didn't dare open it, so I called my friends to help me deal with it.

"When you cracked it open just now, I think... I think I saw blood. And... flesh..."

"Sis! He's lying!"

I was frantic. "That's me in there! Sis! Take me home! Don't let me die in the river!"

"Lambert really said that to you?"

Theresa's words made my heart plummet.

Roy nodded, his eyes rimmed red.

Theresa's brow darkened further.

"Then it's most likely the carcass of a cat or a dog."

"Sis..." Tears slid down my face.

She walked over to the chest.

Roy swallowed hard.

The lid lifted just a sliver.

Theresa saw the red.

She slammed it shut.

Now she was certain. Inside was an animal carcass, planted to terrorize her little brother.

"He knows Roy can't stand the sight of dead things, and he still pulled something this vile!"

Theresa gritted her teeth.

A terrible thought surfaced in her mind.

Could the killer actually have been...

"Sis! It wasn't me!"

My protest never reached her ears.

Theresa called over a group of men. The one in front carried a torch.

"Sis! What are you doing?!"

Panic seized me.

Theresa turned away.

"Burn it. Burn every last trace and throw the ashes in the river. I don't want Roy seeing a single thing."

"No!!"

A desperate scream tore out of me.

But no one could hear it.

I watched the chest turn to ash.

Watched them sweep it up and hurl it into the river.

Theresa helped Roy to his feet.

Roy glanced back at the spot where the chest had been. Not a trace remained.

The faintest smile curled the corner of his mouth.

Still, he had been thoroughly "frightened."

For days afterward, he stayed home to recuperate.

And Theresa threw herself into planning the birthday party one week awayher brother's birthday party.

My birthday party, too, of course.

Events like these were always organized by Theresa and Juliana Simmons, my fiance since childhood, the match arranged by our families before we were even born.

While reviewing the itinerary, Juliana spoke up.

"Shouldn't we also put together something for Lambert?"

Since the "threatening" incident with Roy, Theresa hadn't contacted me once.

"Him..."

Theresa frowned.

Juliana pressed gently. "He did come back, after all."

Theresa said nothing for a long moment.

Then she dialed my number.

No one picked up, naturally.

She tried three times. Three missed calls.

Juliana dialed me too.

Same result.

"Still throwing his little tantrum!"

Theresa's brow furrowed. "He knows what he did to Roy was wrong. Too ashamed to answer, is that it?"

I let out a bitter laugh.

No. I just couldn't answer the phone anymore.

"If he doesn't want to come, then fine! All the betterwe'll celebrate for Roy and Roy alone!"

The words had barely left her mouth when Roy padded out of his room in pajamas.

"It's okay. Let me talk to him. I'm sure he didn't mean it before. Once we clear the air, everything will be fine."

Juliana's gaze settled on him.

Something soft and aching crept into her eyes without her realizing it.

Of course I wouldn't answer Roy's call either.

But when the call actually went through

Roy froze in place.

His eyes reddened, slowly, deliberately.

Then the tears fell.

"Roy?" Both women rushed to his side.

Roy covered his mouth, the phone already disconnected. "How could he say something like that to me?"

Juliana studied him with concern. "What happened?"

"He said I had no right to call him. That I should've died in that chest..."

Theresa's expression turned to ice.

She snatched the phone and left me a voicemail:

"Lambert Vance, if you want someone dead, go die yourself! This family has been Roy's home from the very beginning.

"You're nothing but a latecomer!

"If anyone should die, it's you!"

She hurled the phone onto the couch and turned to comfort her brother.

I hovered in the air.

A bitter laugh escaped me.

Right. I was the latecomer.

I was the one who deserved to die.

This family never needed Lambert Vance.

But... wasn't I the one who was actually their child?

When my parents reviewed the party plans, they noticed my absence.

"Isn't it Lambert's birthday too? He can be difficult sometimes, but we should still go through the proper motions."

Theresa clenched her jaw. "Mom, Daddo you have any idea what Lambert has done?"

They both looked at her, confused.

Over the next five minutes, Theresa told them everything.

Mom shot to her feet. "You're telling me Lambert hired someone to kill my Roy?!"

Theresa nodded. "Why else would he threaten Roy like that? The things he said, the way he did itit's too twisted to be anything else."

Dad's fists tightened until his knuckles went white. "How could he say something so vicious?"

"No wonder he hasn't been picking up calls or answering texts. He knows what he's done. He doesn't have the nerve to show his face here!"

I laughed bitterly and closed my eyes.

Why...

Mom's eyes brimmed red. "It's not like we refused to acknowledge him! We accepted that he's the real Vance heir!

"After he came back, did we ever shortchange him? All we wanted was to keep the son we'd raised for twenty years. And he couldn't even tolerate that!

"Twenty years! Twenty years!"

She collapsed onto the table, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

Dad rubbed her back, his own eyes glistening.

Mine stung too.

Yes. Twenty years.

Twenty years.

And I'd spent those same twenty years being told I had no parents. That nobody had raised me right.

"Lambert has gone too far this time."

Mom lifted her head. "Being difficult is one thing. But this? He tried to have someone killed!"

"Honey, what are you thinking?"

Mom looked at Dad. "I want to sever the mother-son relationship. Completely."

The air left my lungs.

"Is there some way to remove Lambert from the family register without him being present?"

"Mom..."

My voice shook. "What are you saying?"

You want to remove your own biological son from the family register?

Theresa frowned, unable to think of a way.

So she called Juliana.

"There is a way. It just takes a little time."

Mom's eyes were still raw and red. "Can it be done before Roy's birthday? I don't want Roy's celebration overshadowed by that brother of his!"

Juliana looked at her.

And nodded.

I dropped to my knees.

Both hands pressed over my eyes.

The day I was struck from the family register, my parents lit incense before the ancestral shrine.

"Let it be known that the unworthy descendant Lambert Vance, for harming his own flesh and blood and betraying all bonds of trust, is hereby removed from the ancestral recordsnever to be recorded again!"

"From this day forward, the Vance family has but one son: Roy Vance. We hereby declare this before heaven, earth, and our ancestors. May they bear witness!"

One son. Roy Vance.

I closed my eyes. Tears slid down from the corners.

The incense was placed in its holder.

My parents and my sister knelt together in a row.

I looked down at them from above as they bowed in solemn reverence.

Good. Very good.

I didn't want to be a Vance anymore either!

Not in this life. Not in any life. Never again.

But apparently, declaring it before the ancestors wasn't enough.

The living had to know too.

Roy's birthday banquet was the most extravagant celebration Theresa and Juliana had ever organized.

And at this grand, glittering affair, with every eye in the room watching

My parents made the announcement themselves.

From this day forward, the Vance family had but one son: Roy Vance.

Everyone crowded around Roy to congratulate him.

Some said he'd grown up in the Vance household since childhood, that he was a true Vance through and through.

Others said he surpassed me in every way and deserved the position by right.

The spotlight orbited Roy.

My parents, my sister, and Juliana flanked him like a royal guard.

But every now and then, my parents' eyes drifted through the crowd, scanning, searching for someone.

Juliana kept glancing around too. Her champagne flute swirled absently in her hand.

"Do you think he's somewhere watching?"

Theresa's gaze swept back and forth, distracted. "Good if he is. He'd only be humiliating himself."

Someone did come.

Two figures pushed through the crowd.

Police officers.

"Excuse us. We're here to inquire about Lambert Vance."

"He's not here." My mother's voice was ice.

"He is, in fact, not here." The officer's expression turned apologetic. "We've recovered his remains."

"What?!"