My eyes began to sting. My mind filled with memories of sunlight in the countryside and the smell of chopped onions.

I was lost at the age of five during a family shootout. It was my adoptive parents who saved me and took me in.

They gave me fifteen years of a normal life, pulling me out of hell and back into the world of the living.

But sadly, they passed away in a car accident at the beginning of this year. My brothers only found me because they saw me in a news report about the accident.

Only after I was brought back did I learn that my birth parents had died years ago in a mob hit, leaving behind a vast empire and two young heirs.

They'd adopted Vivi because her father, a loyal consigliere to my parents, had also died in a hail of bullets while protecting my father.

I carefully placed the photo album at the very bottom of my suitcase.

I took out my bank card. It held the insurance compensation my adoptive parents left me, plus the money I had saved from scholarships and part-time jobs over the past two years.

The amount wasn't large, but it was enough to rent a small studio in Switzerland, buy secondhand books, and live on cheap bread.

I had no intention of spending a single blood-soaked penny of the Rogers' money.

At dinner, the atmosphere in the dining room was unusually relaxed.

Exquisite Italian risotto was served, and for the first time, a place had been set for me near the head of the table.

Fred was excitedly talking about what kind of delicacies to prepare for the coming-of-age party.

Vivi played along, occasionally trying to draw me into their carefully orchestrated conversation.

"Helena, I heard the security situation in Zurich isn't great lately. Are you sure you want to go?" Vivi put down her fork, her brow slightly furrowed.

"Living all by yourself, without even a bodyguard, what if you run into trouble? Why don't you let our brothers arrange for a few men to watch over you?"

"No need."

"But the food there is so plain, mostly cold dishes. Your stomach…"

"I'll get used to it."

No matter what hidden barbs she threw, I responded with the shortest possible answers.

The smile on Fred's face finally faltered.

He put down his knife and sighed. "Helena, do you have to have this attitude with Vivi? She's just concerned about you."

I looked up at them and said nothing.

No matter how I explained it, it would end up being my fault anyway. I couldn't be bothered to waste my breath.

But either my silence or Vivi's hurt expression seemed to provoke Bryan. He let out a cold laugh, slamming his wine glass down on the table. The dark red liquid splashed onto the white tablecloth. "Have you no manners?"

In my past life, every time I showed the slightest dissatisfaction or grievance, it always ended with me being the one who was thoughtless, the one without manners.

I never thought that now, even my silence was a mistake.

Bryan spoke. "Helena, has being a Rogers been so awful? Are you that desperate to leave, to wash your hands of us?"

Yes, to wash away this blood.

That was exactly what I wanted to do.

But I still met my Don's gaze calmly. "Medicine is about saving people, Bryan."

"Didn't Grandma go to church every morning to pray for someone in the family to one day walk in the sunlight?"

I was simply too tired to argue with them. And bringing up our deceased grandmother was the only weapon I had to shut Bryan up.

Sure enough, Bryan was choked by my words, momentarily speechless.

Fred coughed awkwardly, once again playing the peacemaker. "Bryan... Helena has a point. Grandma did..."

"Besides, we haven't lived together for over a decade. Give her some time."

I was so tired of this scene repeating itself. I stood up, claiming I was full, and went to my room.

In the past, I would never have dared to be the first to leave the dinner table. I was terrified of my brothers thinking I lacked manners and breeding.

But now, I had found my path. I no longer cared what people I was leaving behind thought of me.

I locked my door. It felt like the first step in severing my connection to this world.

I opened my laptop and started searching for information on the medical school in Zurich, as well as local apartment rentals.

Since I was leaving, I had to disappear completely from their surveillance. I had no intention of living in a dorm.

After finishing my search, I crossed off another day on the calendar: 29 days to go.

But when you're planning an escape from hell, time always seems to crawl by.

At least I had survived another day.

For the next few days, I did my best to be invisible around the estate.

They were busy with Vivi's debut, and no one had time for me anymore.

My brothers even gave Vivi a custom Beretta engraved with the family crest as a gift to mark her coming of age. I saw it by chance when the gun was delivered.

The black gun was engraved with the intricate Rogers family crest, glinting coldly under the light.

When Bryan handed the gift to Vivi, his voice held a rare trace of warmth. "Welcome to the family business, Vivi."

Vivi excitedly picked up the gun and expertly racked the slide with a crisp metallic click.

A glint of ruthlessness flashed in her eyes, a stark contrast to her usual wide-eyed innocent act.

Fred stood by, clapping, but then he turned and saw me in the doorway. His smile froze.

His gaze flickered, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Helena... if you like, I can take you to the shooting range sometime. We can pick a suitable one for you, too. For self-defense."

I glanced at the gun and cut him off. "I wouldn't know how to use a thing like that. It would be wasted on me."

In my past life, I had desperately wanted a gun engraved with the family crest as proof that I truly belonged. Now, however, I avoided it like the plague.

Fred visibly relaxed, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Then we'll pick another gift for you next time."

They would never remember any occasion related to me anyway, and besides, there would be no next time. I would be gone soon.

I spent my days at the library, from morning until night.

Occasionally, when passing by one of the family's business fronts, I would run into my brothers' soldiers.

They would call me "Principessa," their voices respectful, but their eyes held a hint of pity or disdain.

I knew it. In this family, I was the outsider who had barged in, while Vivi was the treasured jewel.

My presence was just proof of the Rogers family's benevolence, a sign that they wouldn't cast out their own long-lost blood.

The remaining 28 days felt like an eternity, but finally, the day of my departure arrived.

The armored vehicle from the confidential medical program was already on its way to pick me up.

That night, the rain was torrential.

When I was just about to going downstairs, Vivi, who was just coming in. She was dressed in a black training uniform, still holding spent shell casings from her practice.

Bryan and Fred were gathered around her. "Your stance is perfect," Bryan said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Tomorrow, I'll have Marco teach you some advanced techniques."

"Vivi is really talented," Fred chimed in. "She's even faster than I was when I first learned."

Even though I no longer cared for these so-called family members, I was still surprised that Bryan and Fred were personally teaching her to shoot.

After all, in my past life, they had just thrown me to a couple of the family's Capos. I had been so terrified by their rough methods at the range that I broke out in a cold sweat.

In the end, I couldn't fire a single shot. Back then, Bryan had called me a coward, saying my upbringing outside the family had left me soft.

I waited until the grandfather clock in the hall chimed ten times. The heavy rain outside was my best cover.

I dragged my heavy suitcase down the spiral staircase, step by careful step.

I held my breath, praying they were all in the east wing celebrating Vivi's shooting lesson.

But luck was not on my side.

Just as I reached the bottom step, the heavy oak doors to the drawing room swung open.

"Helena?"

It was Fred. He had just walked out, holding a bottle of decanted wine, with Bryan and Vivi trailing behind him.

They were laughing about something, until they saw me.

I froze in the shadows of the staircase, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"What are you doing?" Fred frowned, his eyes dropping to the suitcase by my feet. "Where are you going with that at this hour?"

The atmosphere instantly tensed. Bryan stopped wiping his glasses and looked up.

My mind raced. I couldn't let them know I was leaving for good. If they knew, they might stop me out of some twisted sense of family pride, or worse, make a scene that would cause me to miss the vehicle.

I forced my tense muscles to relax and arranged my features into a look of annoyance.

"The latch on this old thing is broken," I lied, kicking the suitcase lightly. "I was going to take it to the service quarters to see if the handyman could fix it. I... wanted to use it for storage."

Bryan took a step forward, his eyes narrowing. "Now?" he asked, a sharp edge to his voice. "You're acting strange, Helena. Open it."

Panic flared in my chest. If he opened it, the game was over.

My mind was racing, trying to figure out what to do, when suddenly, a sharp cry pierced the tension.

Vivi, who had been standing behind Bryan, stumbled and clutched her right shoulder.

Her face was pale with pain.

"It hurts, Bryan... the recoil from the gun earlier... I think I might have pulled a muscle." Tears instantly welled in her large, innocent eyes.

Bryan's suspicion of me evaporated in an instant. He immediately turned to support Vivi, "Let me see. I told you the caliber was too high for a beginner. Fred, get an ice pack! Now!"

"On it!" Fred dropped his interrogation of me and rushed toward the kitchen.

"It really hurts..." Vivi sobbed into Bryan's chest.

No one looked at me anymore. I was invisible again.

Gripping the handle of my suitcase, I shot one last look at the chaotic scene of them fussing over her and slipped out the side door into the pouring rain.

As the cold wind hit my face, a thought crossed my mind: for the first time in two lifetimes, I actually had a reason to thank Vivi for her desperate need for attention.

I didn't look back.

Inside the warm, brightly lit living room, the chaos had subsided.

Vivi sat on the sofa with an ice pack on her shoulder, sipping hot cocoa. Bryan stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the storm rage outside.

Through the curtain of rain, a pair of blinding headlights cut through the darkness. A matte-black armored vehicle was slowly pulling out of the estate's gates.

It had no license plates, only a small, specialized insignia on the door.

"Look at that," Fred said, "That's a Ghost-class armored transport, bulletproof and bombproof. You usually only see those transporting high-value assets for international intelligence agencies or top-tier classified research."

Bryan took a sip of his drink, nodding slightly. "Whoever is in that car is untouchable. Once those doors lock, not even the Five Families can get to them."

"Must be nice," Fred chuckled, watching the red taillights fade into the stormy night. "To be that important. I wonder which lucky VIP was passing through our territory? We didn't get any intel."

"It doesn't matter. Whoever it is, they're completely out of our reach now," Bryan said, turning away from the window. "Focus on Vivi's debut. That's what matters."

Just then, the old butler, Alfred, walked in to collect the empty wine bottle.

"Alfred," Fred asked casually, "Did we have a guest leaving? We saw the vehicle."

Alfred paused, looking confused. "A guest? No, sir. That was the transport for a confidential medical program with the University of Zurich."

He adjusted his glasses and looked at the two brothers, who had frozen.

"I just saw Principessa Helena get into it. Didn't she say goodbye to you?"