I stood in the supermarket and bought five full boxes of Coke. That should be enough for Zac to drink to his heart's content.

Ever since he was little, Zac had been obsessed with sugary drinks. Now he wouldn't touch a single drop of plain water—he only drank anything with flavor.

My brother, Keith, had tried to correct the habit once, but Zac would rather die of thirst than drink water.

My mother nearly fainted from the distress. She bought several cases of drinks and stocked them at home so Zac could have as much as he wanted.

He'd been drinking like that for more than ten years. It would've been a miracle if he didn't end up with kidney failure.

When I carried the Coke home, Zac burst into a grin and started chugging immediately.

That evening, during dinner, I casually mentioned that I planned to get a physical checkup.

My sister‑in‑law, Kathy Bennet, rolled her eyes and said sarcastically, "You're really rich, huh? Unlike me—I still haven't scraped together Zac's tutoring fees."

I pretended not to hear the implication. "Nothing matters more than health. Honestly, our whole family should get checked."

I knew my body better than anyone. I wasn't sick at all. The checkup was just a pretext—something to mislead them.

Zac's condition could be discovered at any time. As long as I stayed in this house, I risked repeating the same fate as in my last life.

This time, I had to get far, far away. Far enough that none of them could ever find me.

I found a uremia diagnosis report online, edited the name to my own, and sent it straight to the family group chat.

On my way home, I added a few drops of eyedrops to the corners of my eyes before stepping through the front door.

All three of them were on the couch, discussing something in low voices. When they saw me, my mother came forward, her expression unusually serious.

For a moment, I almost thought she was genuinely worried about me.

But her next words shattered that illusion.

"I asked the doctor. This illness is a bottomless pit. You'll need dialysis for the rest of your life. Staying alive will only bring you suffering. Maybe… it's better not to drag it out.

"Zac is still a minor. When he grows up, he'll need money for college and marriage—everything costs money. Your brother and I can't help you. You'll have to figure something out yourself."

Kathy stepped closer, the corner of her mouth lifting in schadenfreude.

"You shouldn't have gotten that health checkup, Sonya. See, now they found something wrong with you. Zac is still young. You should move out as soon as possible. Don't pass your… bad luck on to him."

The three of them kept firing off excuses—anything to avoid taking responsibility.

With tears gathering at my eyes, I dropped to my knees with a thud.

"Mom, the doctor said my condition can be treated. I just need a kidney transplant. It's easiest to match with family. Maybe you and Keith can get tested. And if not… Zac's kidney could work too."

The words had barely left my mouth when a sharp slap landed on my cheek.

"Wretch! How can you be so vicious? Zac is still a child, and you dare target him?"

Kathy glared at me as if she wanted to tear me apart.

Holding my cheek, I cried, "He can live with one kidney. If he gives me one, he'll be like a son to me. I'll take care of him for the rest of my life. When I die, everything I have will belong to him."

"You think I'm stupid? How many more years do you think you have left? When you die, your money goes to my son anyway!" Kathy spat.

I turned to look at my brother. "Keith, please… I don't want to die. Just go to the hospital for a matching test. It might not even be compatible."

Before he could respond, my mother stepped in front of him, guarding him like a lioness. "Keith is young and healthy. He can't donate his kidney. What if it harms him?"

To them, I was only dying. But Keith losing a kidney? That was unacceptable.

Clutching my chest, I sobbed, "Mom… I'm your daughter too! How can you stand there and watch me die?"

"This is your fate. If you die, then you die. I still have a son. I gave birth to you—that alone should make you grateful."

I pushed myself up from the floor and stared at the three of them. "Fine. If your hearts are that cold, then every one of you will face the consequences."

Then I flipped the table with a roar, grabbed a chair, and smashed everything within reach. My strength was nothing like that of a dying patient—it came from years of buried rage.

The three of them froze, afraid to stop me while I still had something in my hands. They could only curse from a distance.

When the house had finally turned into a wreck, the suffocating weight inside my chest finally loosened.

Without looking back, I walked out and left the house behind me.

I ran as fast as I could, terrified they might snap out of their shock and chase after me.

Not long after, my mother sent me a message: [You wretch. From now on, I'll pretend I never gave birth to a daughter like you.]

I took a screenshot and posted it directly to my social feed.

My relatives stared at the post, confused and unsure what had happened.

A moment later, my mother made her own post: [Starting today, I, Miranda Cosby, sever all ties with Sonya Reacher. From this day forward, we are strangers in life and death.]

Our relatives thought we were just fighting and began trying to mediate.

[Blood is thicker than water. What could be so serious between mother and daughter that you have to cut ties?]

I replied immediately: [Don't bother. I don't have such a cruel mother. She can stand by and watch her own daughter die. I'm starting to wonder if I was switched at birth. Otherwise, how could I have such a vicious mother?]

Then I posted the medical report for all of them to see. The moment they read the diagnosis, my relatives turned on my mother.

[Miranda, Sonya is your own flesh and blood. She's sick now. How can you ignore her?]

[So heartless. You'd throw away family over money?]

[If my daughter were sick, I'd sell the house if that's what it took to save her.]

My mother was trembling with fury from all the criticism. She immediately fired back: [She doesn't want money. She wants a kidney! She even dared to target her own nephew. My grandson is still a child! How can he donate a kidney? If anyone here is vicious, it's Sonya!]

She made it sound like everything was my fault.

If I hadn't been reborn, maybe I really would've doubted myself again. But now I had the past as proof. In this lifetime, I would only love myself.

In the end, these relatives were no different—they still valued sons over daughters. The moment they realized a boy might be involved, they all went silent.

Family bonds were supposedly thicker than water, but now that something real had happened, every last one of them played dumb.

[Sonya, you can keep doing dialysis. Why insist on getting a kidney? Your brother is a grown man—he can't live without one.]

[That's right. No amount of money can buy a kidney. This time you're going too far.]

I laughed and replied instantly: [Aunt Jesamine, then why don't you give me your kidney? You're a woman—you can live with one.]

Silence. Not a single relative dared say another word.

A kidney was a vital organ; once gone, it was gone. No one was willing to gamble their life.

Seeing me besieged on all sides, Keith finally stepped in to play the good guy.

[I can't give you a kidney, but don't worry, if you ever have trouble in life, I won't abandon you.]

I knew he was making empty promise.

I ignored him and pressed my relatives again: [We're all family. Really? Not a single person is willing to help me? Are all of you this heartless?]

No one responded. The message was clear—they wouldn't lift a finger. In fact, they probably wished they could run even farther away.

Only then did I feel relieved.

Zac's illness would surface soon, and with no one willing to help, I'd love to see how Keith planned to handle it.

I rented an apartment in a different part of the city and started a new job. The city was too big—they would never find me again.

Once I'd settled, I returned home for a visit.

After graduating from university, I had always lived with my family. Several times I had tried to move out, but my mother kept a tight grip on my salary, funneling my earnings to support Keith and Kathy.

That money belonged to me, and I was determined to take it back.

A few days ago, the house had been reduced to ruins, but now it had been restored.

When they saw me walk in, they glared with gritted teeth. I didn't waste a word. I threw the papers I'd brought straight in front of them.

"I don't want your kidneys. But all the money you spent that was mine? You'll have to pay it back."

On the floor lay detailed printouts of my bank statements over the years. Every single withdrawal my mother had made was accounted for. There was no denying it.

Kathy scanned the numbers and screamed, "We don't have that kind of money!"

"You know how much it is. Didn't seem like too much when you spent it, did it? Pay up—now."

I plopped down on the floor like I wasn't leaving without every cent.

My mother waved her hands furiously, trying to shoo me away. "I raised you for over twenty years. How dare you even think about your money? Get out!"

I sneered and pulled a small knife from my pocket. "No money? Fine. I won't have the funds to treat my illness, and if I lose control… I don't know what I might do."

"Hey, Kathy, I remember Zac is in fifth grade, Class Two, right?"

At my words, everyone froze, too afraid to make a move. They didn't dare risk me snapping and taking everything with me.

"Fine! We'll pay! Take the money and get out immediately!"

"Of course," I said. After seeing the transfer notification pop up on my phone, I finally stood and dusted myself off.

Before leaving, I took a slow look around the house I had once lived in. "This house was left by Dad. By rights, shouldn't I have a share too?"

Keith nearly lost it. "Get out! This house is mine now. It has nothing to do with you!"

I said nothing, just left a look on my face heavy with meaning. That alone was enough to keep them awake at night with worry.

After I left, they couldn't sleep for days, afraid I'd show up again if I ran out of money. Eventually, they decided to sell the house and disappear as far away as possible.

Not only that—they planned to transfer Zac to a school I couldn't find, thinking that if I lost my mind and sought revenge, it would be disastrous.

They acted quickly. Zac had gotten used to his current school and refused to leave. He kept screaming and throwing tantrums at home.

Keith, already irritated, slapped him across the face. That one slap was all it took to knock Zac unconscious.

My mother clutched him, crying and screaming. Keith assumed Zac was faking. "It's nothing! He's pretending; he's taken a hit before."

But I knew the truth—Zac passed out because he was really ill by now.