To find the missing fake heiress, my family forced me to undergo a memory extraction.

They were convinced that I had bullied her for the past three years and driven her to run away.

I gave a bitter smile and let them continue.

As the memories surfaced one after another, the truth became clear. I was the one who had been bullied all along.

My parents, overcome with guilt, clutched my hands so tightly they nearly fainted.

My brother’s eyes were bloodshot, his teeth grinding until he drew blood.

In their arms, I looked up in confusion and asked softly, “Who are you?”

Five days after the fake heiress, Emily Zeller, disappeared, my family locked me inside a private hospital lab.

Cold metal cuffs clamped around my wrists, ankles, and neck. A strange metal helmet sat on my head, with thick black wires, each as wide as a thumb, running from it into a large, humming machine.

They were going to extract my memories.

Terrified, I struggled with everything I had, but it was no use. My parents and my brother, Steve Zeller, stood in front of me. Their faces were cold and emotionless, without a trace of pity.

“I’ll ask you one last time. Where did Emily go?”

My father, Ben Zeller, gripped a letter in his hand. His voice shook with fury, and his eyes were filled with rage. After five days, his patience had completely run out.

Before I could speak, he threw the letter in my face. “Don’t tell me you don’t know. Emily’s letter makes it clear you’re the only one who does. Her disappearance is your fault!”

I had already read that letter.

Every word of it was heavy with guilt. Emily wrote that she wasn’t their real daughter and had no right to keep clinging to the family. After fighting with me for three years, she said she was tired and ready to walk away.

She gave back everything that belonged to me and made sure to say that it wasn’t my fault. She even begged them not to make things hard for me or ask where she went.

But the letter said just enough to make it sound like I had something to do with it. Anyone could see that.

The truth was, I knew nothing.

The day she disappeared, I was shivering in the cold, locked inside the utility room. Steve had punished me the night before because Emily accused me of pushing her down the stairs.

Of course, that was a lie. I hadn’t even touched her.

But she used that lie to leave, saying she didn’t want to fight anymore.

As if all of it were somehow my fault.

That was when my family’s anger finally exploded.

“I don’t know where she went,” I said quietly, lowering my head as the cold metal dug into my wrists and neck.

It was the same answer I had given countless times. I truly didn’t know.

For five days, I had repeated myself again and again, trying to explain that Emily had left on her own.

But my family didn’t believe me. They never did.

They always believed Emily.

“Lily, why do you hate Emily so much? You’ve been back for three years. What has she ever done to you?” my mother, Mary York asked.

Her lips trembled as she spoke. Her pale face was tight with exhaustion. She hadn’t slept properly or eaten in days, and worry for Emily had hollowed her cheeks until she looked years older.

“Have you forgotten the day we brought you home?” she continued, stepping closer, her eyes shining with tears. “Emily made you lemon tea herself. She’s been spoiled since she was little and never even set foot in a kitchen, but she still tried to make your favorite drink and ended up cutting her finger.”

She looked at me with tears in her eyes. “Lily, please tell me where Emily went. Please. I’m going crazy.”

It never took much to make her cry.

Because this was about Emily.

I lifted my head slightly, wanting to speak but stopping halfway. In the end, I just let out a small, bitter laugh.

Lemon tea. That was where my nightmares began.

But who would ever believe me?

So I stayed silent.

Steve suddenly stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face.

“You stupid farm girl. Go on, keep pretending to be mute. This memory extractor was made just for you. Enjoy it while you can.”

Steve had always despised me, and that slap was full of hatred. My cheek burned, my head spun, and the taste of blood filled my mouth.

Ben stood off to the side, watching coldly.

Mary turned to Steve and snapped, “Steve, what are you doing? If you hurt her, it could interfere with the memory extraction.”

“She deserves it,” Steve snapped, his voice rising with rage. “It would be better if she died right here.”

He jabbed a finger at me, his tone dripping with resentment. “It’s been three years. Think about everything she’s done.

“The day we brought her home, she was like a stray dog. She even peed in the car, remember? And once she got here, she made Emily cry the moment she stepped through the door. Did she really think coming back meant she could be treated like a princess?”

The more he talked, the angrier he became. “Remember when Mom had a fever? Emily stayed up all night taking care of her until she nearly passed out. And what did this wild brat do? She slept without a care in the world, not even pretending to show concern or respect.”

He grabbed my chin, squeezing my bloody mouth until I could barely breathe, then spat in my face. “Even the smallest thing shows what kind of person you are. You’re heartless and selfish. You’re not even worth a single strand of Emily’s hair.”

Pain shot through my jaw, but his grip kept me silent.

I wanted to defend myself, but after three years of trying and never once being believed, I gave up.

Fine. Maybe I really was the selfish, ungrateful one.

Emily was the perfect daughter they loved so much.

“Enough. Don’t hurt her. Extracting her memories is what matters most,” Ben said. His voice was calm but carried a weight that silenced the room.

Mary sighed, gently wiping the blood from my lips. “Lily, don’t blame Steve for hating you. You really have done wrong.”

Yes. I did wrong.

I laughed quietly to myself again. Somehow, the fear I had felt toward the machine faded after Steve’s slap.

“Pain makes people ache, but it also numbs them. So go ahead. Let this so-called memory extractor do its worst,” I thought bitterly.

I closed my eyes and stayed completely still.

Steve sneered. “Not fighting back anymore? Guess you finally know your place.”

He reached to start the machine, but Ben stopped him.

Ben’s patience had worn thin, yet he still gave me one last chance. “Lily, this machine is one of Steve’s company’s latest inventions. It’s unstable and could easily damage your brain. So I’ll ask you one last time. Are you going to tell us where Emily went? If you do, I’ll give you ten million dollars and send you back to that little town you came from. After that, we’ll be done for good.”

“Back to that little town?” The thought hit me hard.

My eyes flew open. A deep, instinctive fear surged through me, and I shook my head immediately.

I didn’t want to go back there.

“See?” Steve said with a cold smile. “She only came back for the money and comfort. She turned her back on the people who raised her, and now even ten million isn’t enough. She just wants to stay here and play princess. Probably hopes to inherit the family estate someday. Pathetic.”

My parents exchanged uneasy glances. Their faces darkened.

I had always been greedy. Even a penny on the ground was something I couldn’t resist picking up and hiding away.

My family hated that about me. And now, when I showed no interest in ten million dollars and only wanted to stay in the city, they despised me even more.

“I’m not going back because…”

My voice trembled as I tried to explain, but before I could finish, Ben cut me off with a wave of his hand. “Enough. You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But you won’t get another chance. Mr. Wilson, come in!”

A man in a white lab coat walked into the room, holding a strange-looking pocket watch. His expression was serious and focused. Without a word, he bowed respectfully to my parents and to Steve.

Ben’s voice was cold. “Start the procedure. Extract her memories immediately. I want to know where Emily went.”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Wilson replied without hesitation. He moved to the machine, pressed three buttons, and then handed three metal helmets to my parents and Steve.

“Mr. Zeller,” he explained carefully, “once the three of you sit down and put these helmets on, you’ll be able to view the subject’s memories through the built-in visual interface. Based on her brain activity, she’ll only be able to recall three memories. Anything beyond that is extremely dangerous and could cause brain damage, seizures, bleeding, or permanent memory loss.”

“Three times is enough. The first one should be about Emily’s disappearance. She definitely knows something,” Steve said impatiently as he grabbed a helmet and sat down beside me.

Mr. Wilson hesitated. “The subject’s emotions are unstable. I recommend guiding her through hypnosis to help her recall Miss Emily’s disappearance gradually. Forcing it too quickly could be harmful.”

Steve frowned but said nothing. My parents nodded in agreement, letting Mr. Wilson proceed as he saw fit.

A few moments later, all three of them were seated with the helmets in place. Mr. Wilson dimmed the harsh lights and stepped in front of me.

I stared at him numbly, completely still.

He pressed a button on my helmet, and soothing, rhythmic music filled my ears. I felt a cool sensation at the back of my head, as if some liquid had been injected.

“Miss Lily,” Mr. Wilson said gently, “please don’t resist. You know the more you fight it, the more painful it becomes. It’s better to—”

“Alright,” I murmured. My voice was calm, and I let myself relax completely.

Mr. Wilson paused for a moment, clearly surprised, but then focused again. He lifted the pocket watch and slowly swung it in front of my eyes.

“Miss Lily, go to sleep. In your dream, you’ll remember your first meeting with Miss Emily. It was a happy time between sisters.”

His voice was low and hypnotic. My eyes fluttered shut, and within seconds, I drifted into sleep.

Time folded in on itself, and distant memories began to surface, warm and golden, like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

*

I slowly opened my eyes and found myself sitting in a luxury car.

It was Steve’s Maybach S680. He was driving himself, taking my parents, me, and Emily, whom I was meeting for the first time, home with excitement.

Oh. I was dreaming about the first time I went home.

I turned my head and saw Emily beside me. Her bright hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. She held my hand and talked nonstop, her smile warm and easy.

“Wow, you’re so tall, Lily. What are you, like five-five? I’m barely five feet. Guess I’m the short one here,” she said with a playful pout.

Then she looked down at my hands, her expression softening. “You’ve had it rough out there, haven’t you? Your hands are all cracked. You won’t have to do farm work ever again, I promise.”