My wife made me get a vasectomy. Not once, but ninety-nine times.

Right before the hundredth operation, the doctor looked at me with pity in his eyes as the anesthesia failed to fully kick in.

"Ms. Gibson really knows how to destroy a man," he murmured. "She's put him through ninety-nine vasectomies, then had them reversed—again and again. However, his body's long since broken. There's no chance of children now."

"It's probably for her ex. Word is, it's his own brother. The scandals in these wealthy families—unbelievable."

Because of a hospital mix-up at birth, my and Jeff Cunningham's fates were exchanged. He grew up with the Cunningham family, while I lived a poor life.

Years later, my parents found the truth, taking me in and sending Jeff away. To make things worse, I became Wynnie Gibson's new fiancé.

I once asked her, barely able to speak through the pain, why she would marry someone she did not love.

She looked at me calmly.

"To get revenge," she said. "You came home and stole Jeff's place. He was the one I love. He drank himself to death after you returned."

Even my biological parents knew she was poisoning me.

However, they turned a blind eye.

They did nothing to stop her.

They knew Wynnie had got pregnant with Jeff's child through IVF—planning to raise the child and let him inherit the family fortune.

I coughed up blood and threw myself into the sea.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was first reunited with them.

This time, when I saw the sorrow in their eyes—sorrow not for me, but for the son they lost—

I chose to let them go.

"You're leaving us?!"

My parents were shocked as they stared at me, the calm in my voice contradicting the bombshell I just dropped.

Their eyes were wide with disbelief.

That day marked my official return to the Cunningham household, but they were clueless about the truth.

I had been reborn and was ready to move on from the past, from a version of myself that would never receive their love.

"Yes, I've booked my flight to study abroad. I'm just waiting on the visa. It should take a few more days—"

"You can't stand having your brother around, can you?!"

My mother, Alice Ferguson, cut me off, her voice dripping with impatience.

To them, my discontent stemmed from my brother, Jeff Cunningham, who was not a Cunningham by blood but had been living with them as if he were.

They thought I was acting out, wanting to storm off in a huff because of him.

Sensing she might have been too harsh, my mother's face softened as she tried again.

"Kelvin, you know that even if Jeff isn't our own flesh and blood, he's been part of this family for years. Can't you cut him some slack?"

Her words were laced with bias, always in favor of Jeff.

It was the same old story.

In my previous life, Jeff would pick fights with me, and our parents would always take his side, whether they meant to or not.

It was not until Jeff's knife had almost taken my life that they finally forced him to leave the Cunningham mansion and reflect on his actions in a swanky apartment they set up just for him.

They called it reflection, but it was all for show. It was just a way to make me drop the issue of his violent attack.

However, I never imagined he would turn to booze to numb the pain, or that he would get behind the wheel drunk and crash.

He was torn apart in the wreck.

From that day on, they pointed their fingers at me.

They were convinced I was the reason he was gone, never cracking a smile my way again, and they made me visit Jeff's grave every year to lay down flowers and wallow in guilt.

As time went on, their indifference only grew, allowing my wife to torment me relentlessly until I was a shell of a man, physically and emotionally spent, and finally, in utter despair, I threw myself into the ocean's embrace.

"If that's how it is, I should be the one to go, and Jeff should stay."

I could not stand to hear my parents' phony peacemaking any longer, their words dripping with favoritism.

Jeff had not been kicked out yet. He was still living the good life.

I would just step aside.

'Because they're the real family, right?' I thought.

I let out a wry chuckle, clammed up, turned on my heel, and headed upstairs to pack up my meager things.

However, when I came back down lugging my suitcase, I found my fiancee, Wynnie Gibson, the heiress of the Gibson family, lounging on the couch.

She was supposed to be vacationing abroad.

"Kelvin, once you're married to Wynnie, you'd better drop the childish antics. Grow up, got it?" Alice snapped, her face twisting into a scowl as she saw me with my suitcase.

Wynnie's expression was even worse.

Her eyes narrowed to slits when she saw me, and she bolted up, her hand flying out to deliver a stinging slap across my face, her nails raking a numb trail of pain.

"How dare you show your face around the Cunningham family again? Seriously, Kelvin, do you even know what shame is?"

Her voice broke through the silence with a piercing scream, and the look she gave me was filled with the kind of hatred one reserves for a lifelong nemesis.

Her blows landed with force, and I made no move to avoid them.

That kind of humiliation had become as routine as our daily bread ever since we tied the knot.

I was absolutely convinced that my wife Wynnie had come back to life.

My parents were taken aback by Wynnie's outburst. They tried to step in, but her next words rooted them to the spot.

"You think killing Jeff wasn't enough? Now, you're still hanging around the Cunningham family like a bad smell. Do you really believe I don't have the guts to end you?!"

Her eyes were wild, her whole demeanor screamed of a woman unhinged.

That was the Wynnie I remembered from her previous life—every time she drank herself into oblivion or when Jeff's memory haunted her.

She would grill me, demanding to know why I returned, why I insisted on existing in that world.

Then, it was nothing but a relentless cycle of abuse—beatings, insults, and dragging me through the agony of the operating room not once but 99 times.

I clung to the dream of having a child of my own, only to be slapped with the truth that she had already got pregnant with Jeff's child through IVF.

"Kelvin, is this for real? Are you actually going to be the death of Jeff? Are you going to be responsible for his untimely end?!"

My parents stared at me, their faces a mix of shock and rage.

"You really don't trust me, not even the slightest, do you?"

Their looks told a story I knew all too well. They never loved me.

However, despite expecting it, their gaze still twisted a knife in my heart.

I never once harbored a thought of hurting Jeff, but his death had pinned me to a cross of guilt for an eternity.

As my voice faltered, I saw a flicker of doubt in my parents' eyes.

However, before we could say another word, a figure emerged from around the corner and declared.

"It's true, he did kill me!"

"Jeff!"

The moment Wynnie caught sight of him, she could not help herself, she flew into his arms as if drawn by an irresistible force.

Then, they kissed with a wild tenderness, oblivious to the world around them, completely ignoring me—her official fiance—standing awkwardly to the side.

"Jeff, you're back too, aren't you? I just knew you couldn't stand to be away from me, from our baby!"

Tears shimmered in Wynnie's eyes, and Jeff, with a heart full of compassion, gently wiped them away.

"Wynnie, are you pregnant? I had no idea.

"It's just these weird dreams I keep having. In them, Kelvin is so jealous of our love that he forces me away from you, away from our parents. He even pays someone to sabotage my car, leading to my death in a crash.

"He thinks he can claim the family fortune and have you to himself, but the pain, it's just so intense, so real!"

Jeff's expression was a mix of worry and gentleness, but his words felt like a death sentence.

"You disgraceful son!"

No sooner had Jeff's words faded than our father, Thomas Cunningham, slapped me across the face.

The sting left a metallic bitterness in my mouth.

"What did Jeff ever do to you that you'd treat him like this? If we hadn't taken you in, clothed and fed you, you'd still be slaving away in an orphanage! You thankless traitor!"

Alice's words were filled with venom, her anger erasing any memory that I was their flesh and blood, the son they had lost and found after so many years.

"I know Kelvin hates me for stealing the life that was supposed to be his, but I never aspired to be the Cunningham family's heir. All I wanted was to be with Wynnie and to sometimes bask in the warmth of our parents' love. If Kelvin can't accept me, then I'll just have to leave."

Jeff's voice was tinged with defeat as he turned to leave, but Wynnie's grip on his wrist stopped him in his tracks.

"Don't you dare say that. The one who should be leaving isn't you! As the future heir to the Gibson Group, I declare that if anyone other than Jeff marries into the Gibson family, the Cunninghams won't see a dime of our investment ever again!"

Wynnie's declaration was ironclad.

With a second chance at life, she longed to give Jeff everything she never could before.

However, it took me back to our early days of marriage.

She had whispered to me back then that her love for me was the reason for our union.

We dreamed of a brood of bright, beautiful kids, but she had a company to steady.

Winnie had no time for the distraction of pregnancy.

For her, I had swallowed my pride and mingled in circles I despised.

For her, I had endured surgeries that wrecked my body, all because of her whims.

I was like an eagle that fell into the trap, my wings stuck, falling without strength.

"Kelvin, get over here and apologize to Jeff! If you're truly sorry and vow to stop antagonizing him, we might let you stay, but you're out of the Cunningham house for now. Find somewhere else to live."

My parents offered that as if it were a generous compromise.

To me, it was a joke.

I had done nothing wrong from the start, yet I was supposed to apologize to Jeff, the one who had set me up.

"I did nothing wrong!"

I spelled it out for them, each word deliberate.

Apparently, my defiance was too much for them. They lost all patience and snapped.

"If you're so set on leaving, then you're leaving everything behind. Those clothes you're wearing were bought with Cunningham money, right? Strip them off!"

I could not help but let a wry smile across my face. Without a word, I began peeling off my clothes.

In the dead of winter, the front door stood ajar, letting the biting cold wind whip through, sending shivers down my spine. My exposed skin quickly turned a frostbitten shade of blue and purple, a chill that paled in comparison to the ache in my heart.

Down to my undergarments, I tossed the clothes to the floor, ready to walk away.

"Hey, what's in the suitcase?"

Jeff's casual reminder triggered something in our already enraged parents.

"Open that up too. You're not taking anything that belongs to the Cunninghams."

"If you don't want to be our son, if you don't want to be the Cunningham heir, then go back to being the nothing orphan you were!"

At their command, the servants snatched the suitcase from my grip.