My parents used the compensation money from my sister's car accident to buy a four-room house, but they only let me stay in the bathroom. My twin brothers, who were not even a year old, each had their own room.

When the twins grew up, they got into a car accident. One of them needed a corneal transplant, the other needed a heart.

My parents begged me to donate and save them.

When I tried to escape, they betrayed me.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back to the time just after my sister's death.

I sought justice for my sister and myself, and made my parents pay for what they had done.

In my previous life, I always knew that my sister's car accident was not just an accident. However, back then, I was only nine years old.

I could not bring myself to say anything.

If I did, I would be in for a world of hurt.

After my sister, Aria Smith, was born, I pretty much raised her until she was seven.

My parents did not make much—just twelve hundred dollars a month—and with twin boys coming after her, money was tight.

One night, half-asleep, I overheard my parents talking.

"Did you hear about Jeffrey's bull? It got hit by a car, and they paid him eighteen thousand dollars for it."

"If a person got hit, they'd have to shell out at least tens of thousands of dollars, right? We could finally build a house with that kind of money."

Mom glanced at my sister, snoozing on the bed, then at me, and whispered, "So, who's worth more?"

Dad paused before answering, "The older one is worth more, but she helps with the kids and lets you get to work earlier.

"As for the younger one, well, because of my sister, we didn't know if you were having a boy or a girl. Look, we got another girl."

Even at nine years old, I got the chilling message behind their words.

The next day, Grandma started taking Aria out to the roadside to play.

From our front door, I noticed she never held her hand when crossing the street.

I warned Aria to always be careful, and she promised she would.

However, one day, I watched as Grandma, fed up, stormed off ahead. Aria ran after her in tears.

Just like that, on the crosswalk, a car sent her flying. The driver, in a fancy car, paid out ninety thousand.

I never expected that coming back to life would mean waking up to a world where Aria had just died.

If only I could have come back before it all went down.

In my previous life, I was just a helpless nine-year-old, only able to give my sister warnings that then seemed so futile.

On the day we said our final goodbyes to her, I confided in my Aunt Emily—the one who had always showered us with love.

Tears streaming down her face, she whispered, "If only I'd known when they asked me, I would've told the truth. Your sister wouldn't have had to go through all that pain."

Then, with a stern look, she grabbed my shoulders. "Joanna, you mustn't breathe a word of this to anyone else. If you do, you'll be left without parents and a grandmother. We can't afford to take care of two more kids on our own."

I nodded, but inside, my thoughts were racing.

In my previous life, Aria's car crash was the start of a cruel plot. They lured me back home, took my life, and harvested my organs for my brothers.

When Aunt Emily caught wind of what happened, she confronted them, but they were too much for her. She died fighting them.

Then, my parents had the nerve to pin it all on my nearly eighty-year-old grandma.

The courts let her off easy, swayed by her age and the family's so-called forgiveness.

In my new life, having been reborn, there was no way I would let them have it easy.

Once the funeral was over, my parents wasted no time splurging on a four-bedroom house in town using my sister's settlement.

They were all smiles, moving in and showing off to every relative and big shot they could invite.

In the Old Stone Village where we lived, my father was the first to own such a grand place.

He could not stop grinning.

I trailed behind them, clutching my Aria's picture to my chest.

When Mom struggled with my brothers, she spun around and pushed one into my arms without a second thought.

She did not notice the framed photo I was holding—the one of my sister who had passed away, and my little brother accidentally bumped his head against the glass.

He started wailing at the top of his lungs.

Dad came running at the sound of tears, laying into Mom. "How can you be so careless with the kids?"

Mom caught sight of the photo I was clutching and pointed right at me.

"What are you bringing this bad omen into the new house for? You've even hurt your brother. Get rid of it now!"

I could not let go of my sister's photo. It was the only one of her left in this world.

Dad stormed over, yanked the photo from my arms, and tossed it into the trash.

"If I catch you bringing this back in, I'll thrash you."