Amid Nancy’s scream and my hands covered in blood, I picked up the phone on the coffee table and dialed 911.

…

When my father, the chairman, Mr. Emmanuel Stone, rushed into the hospital in his bespoke suit, I was already surrounded by a few police officers.

The red light outside the operating room still glowed as doctors fought to save the woman’s life.

My father spoke solemnly with the officers for a moment before turning toward me.

“Nadia Stone, why did you stab her?”

“Because she wouldn’t give me money.”

“Why would she give you money?”

“Because I opened the door for her. So she had to give me money.”

“Why does your opening the door for her mean that she must give you money?”

I lifted my head and looked at him with my wide, innocent eyes.

“You said it yourself. Everything in this world has a price. There is no such thing as a free lunch. Nothing can be gained without paying for something in return.

“Since I did something for her, shouldn’t she give me money?”

My father suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of helplessness.

“Even if she didn’t pay you, you still shouldn’t hurt her with a knife.”

“She gave me a mean look like I’d done something wrong. But I didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, she was the one in the wrong, so why did she treat me like that?

“And you told me before that if someone treats me badly the first time we meet, they’re likely to become my enemy later on. And that I should eliminate that threat before they can hurt me.”

Hearing this, my father’s expression twisted into something as foul as if he’d swallowed a pile of filth.

Back when he pushed his strict parenting, he’d also drilled some pretty extreme business principles into me. Little did he know I’d not only memorized them, but also obediently put them into practice.

As a result, Lara Powell, the woman who had borne him a son in my past life, now lay on the operating table, fighting for her life, while he sat on the bench outside the operating room, reaping what he had sown.

“Where did you get that blade?”

“I bought it.”

His suspicious gaze swept over my face. “You bought it? What for?”

“Lately, a group of older students has been robbing me of the money I earn from selling scraps after school. I told the teachers, but they ignored me. You were the one who told me to reflect, and that failing to protect my own earnings was my own fault.

“I really didn’t know where I went wrong, so I had to find a way to protect my money.”

My eyes remained clear and innocent. “Next time they try to take my money, I’ll use the same way to deal with them, as I did with the ma’am. I won’t let them steal my money again.”

The suspicion in his eyes faded. After all, no one would suspect a seventeen-year-old soul inhabiting the body of a seven-year-old girl.

He let out a long sigh and leaned his head weakly against the wall.

…

At seven in the evening, the surgery finally ended, and Lara was wheeled out of the operating room.

The good news was that her life was saved.

The bad news was that two consecutive stabs had precisely pierced her uterus. Not only was the one-month-old fetus lost, but she also had been stripped of her very right to be a mother.

Her uterus had been removed.

Outside the ward, I pressed my face against the door and peeked inside. There lay Lara, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably. My father was standing beside her, clutching the surgical report, his entire body trembling violently.

Thereafter, I never saw Lara again.

A barren woman had no reason to stay by his side.

As for those older students who had ambushed and robbed me before, I never encountered them again. It was as if those bullies had mysteriously vanished overnight.

No one said rose was the only flower allowed in the garden, so I chose to be an oleander, foul-smelling and poisonous.

I no longer sought shelter from the rain; I became the storm.

From that day on, I stopped living by the rules as I did in my previous life.

When the teacher asked us to pay the classroom fund, I told her outright I had no money and wouldn’t be joining any class activities.

She had no choice but to call my father for the payment.

That evening, my father sat in his study, his gaze stern as he asked, “Why didn’t you pay for the class fund?”

I answered honestly, “Because I didn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because paying it would leave me with no money. I can save that money to buy dinner rolls.

“You said this was called increasing revenue by cutting expenses, or saving from your own pocket. I think it’s a good idea. Worst comes to worst, I just sit out of the class activities.”

When the school required us to buy workbooks, I bullied the classmates who had bullied me in my past life and took theirs.

In this life, they hadn’t yet formed a clique to bully me, so I struck first, bullying them and cutting off every possible path.

Soon, the parents of those bruised and battered students complained to the school, and the school had no choice but to summon my father.

The one who came, however, was the nanny.

At the school gate, the nanny who had been so arrogant in my past life still bore a haughty attitude.

“Nadia, I’m here on behalf of Mr. Stone. I’m your “mother” now, so don’t get it wrong later.”

I stared at her calmly, speaking with a childish candor. “But you’re not my mom. She’s gone. Are you my father’s new wife?”

The nanny gasped, quickly covering my mouth as she whispered, “What nonsense are you spouting!”

I struggled to pry her hand away. “You’re always tattling to my father. I hate you!

“When I’m in charge one day, I’ll kick you out of the house! I’ll make sure your whole family starves, forcing you to dig through garbage and eat like rats!

“That stingy madam before? I stabbed her, and the police couldn’t do anything to me. When I’ve saved enough money, I’ll buy a longer knife and stab you the same number of times I stabbed her!”

Terrified by my childlike bluntness, the nanny obediently helped smooth the bullying incident at school for me, and handed in her resignation to my father that very night.

Although my father realized his strict parenting might have backfired, my father showed no intention of changing his tactics.

After all, just because one woman couldn’t carry his child anymore didn’t mean another couldn’t.

So I decided to pull off a big heist.

…

With reckless abandon, I extorted large sums from the boys who had bullied me in my past life. I also forced several girls who had tormented me before to take nude photos of themselves with their smartwatches and sell those images to pedophile websites.

With the money, I bought two bottles of gasoline and set fire to the principal’s office.

The two school buildings were donated by my parents back in the day, so the principal naturally knew who I was.

The impact of the incident, however, was too massive for him to cover up. He called my father to explain the gravity of the situation.

The trouble this time was so severe that my father was nearly driven mad with rage. He sent people straight to the school to drag me home.

“Did I send you to school to cause trouble? Can’t you spare me the headaches?

“First, you bullied your classmates, and now, you set the principal’s office on fire. What exactly are you trying to accomplish?”

In the study, my father was beside himself with fury, his gaze fixed on me as if I were a living embodiment of catastrophe.

“Nadia Stone, do you think that just because you’re my daughter, I can’t do anything to you?”

“You’re this young and already starting fires? Keep this up, and you’ll be saying hello to delicious prison meals!”

I looked utterly aggrieved but held my head high, refusing to apologize.

“I did nothing wrong. I was just making money. What’s so wrong with that?”

He exploded with rage, cursing immediately, “Making money? Is this how you f*cking make money?

“You set the principal’s office on fire and still claim you did nothing wrong?”

I remained stubborn. “I did nothing wrong. But if you want to punish me, I’ll take it.”

“You burned the principal’s office. And that’s still not wrong?”

“Yes, I did that. But I did it to make more money.”

My father’s eyelid twitched, and a sudden sense of dread crept in.

“Pray tell. What does making money have to do with burning down the principal’s office?”

“Dad, if you were in business and did something others wanted to do but were too afraid to, what would happen?”

He jolted upright from his chair, his gaze locking onto mine.

“Who taught you this?”

“Did you forget? You taught me.

“You said that to make others respect you, you have to do something that scares them. That way, they’ll fear me. The best way to make others obey is to make them afraid of you.

“So I burned down the principal’s office. Now every student in the school knows who’s the most powerful here. If I dare to burn the principal’s office, then dealing with them is a piece of cake.”

If an adult committed such radical acts, they’d either be branded a psychopath or locked up in a mental institution.

When such extremity appeared in a seven-year-old girl, though, no one would think the child was troubled. Everyone assumed the problem lay with the child’s upbringing.

When a child became a problem, the child would be the least of a problem among her entire family.

Mr. Stone, who dominated the business world, was suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of helplessness and slumped back into his chair.

“What’s next then? You’ve burned down the principal’s office. What do you plan to do now?”

My face radiated with absolute confidence as I said, “Start collecting money, of course.

“Tomorrow onward, everyone in the school pays me a dollar. It doesn’t sound like much, but there are over five hundred students. That’s five hundred dollars a day! No more rummaging through trash bins, no more selling scraps!

“Anyone who doesn’t pay, gets beaten. Any class that doesn’t pay, gets burned down. And if anyone tries to defy me…”

I pulled out several more switchblades from my backpack.

“I’ll stab their parents after school. Whenever they pay, I’ll let them go.

“I’m a minor anyway. There’s a law protecting minors. I bet the law won’t dare stab me back.”

I looked at my father’s ashen face and smiled as if seeking praise.

“Tonight after school, a brawl at the gate, parents dying. Doesn’t that sound delightful?

“Keep track of who paid and who didn’t. Those who paid are on our side. Everyone else… stab them all!”