Chapter 3

Mia, at seventeen or eighteen, certainly had endless energy.

I finished all the chores, and they were still at it.

"With Mia's drive, I bet she'll get into an Ivy League school," Brenda beamed, her face alight with pride.

Richard looked up from his newspaper, a look of satisfaction on his face.

Then he saw me, just finished with chores, and his expression turned to disgust. "You good-for-nothing idiot, no one will even hire you to clean when you're older."

In our house, grades decided everything.

Richard was the valedictorian of his county, and Brenda was a straight-A student too.

Unfortunately, I was the one with bad grades, a typical underachiever.

Even more unfortunately, Mia inherited their genes and was also a typical academic overachiever.

All suffering stems from comparison.

But when the object of comparison is another child, that suffering turns into mockery and bottomless favoritism.

When Mia made a mistake, Brenda and Richard would always say, "It's fine, it's fine, as long as her grades are good."

When an elderly neighbor fell, I helped her to the hospital. When the neighbor wanted to send a commendation to the school, thinking it might boost grades, they said it was Mia who took the elderly woman to the hospital.

"With your grades, even an extra 100 points wouldn't help. Your sister is different."

Mia wanted to take harp lessons, and they'd say, "Mia has such refined tastes, a true lady."

I wanted to take hip-hop dance classes, and they'd say, "You're too young to be learning such bad things, not even wearing your pants properly, what kind of dancing is that? It's practically hooliganism!"

In my previous life, I always argued back, always did the opposite.

I just had bad grades, but I hadn't done anything wrong.

Why was it that only Mia, with her good grades, could rightfully and naturally enjoy all their favoritism?

Yes, those who are favored always feel entitled.

This time, before they could even open their mouths, I spoke up. "Mom, from now on, let me do all the chores around the house. Sister needs to get into a top university; we can't let anything distract her."

Brenda, who was about to continue scolding me, just pursed her lips when she heard this, coldly tossing out, "Everyone has their own destiny. Good luck to you. Sigh, if only we had just Mia."

In my previous life, every time she said that, I'd snap back, "Then don't have me!"

But now, I didn't want to say a single word.

In my current position, angering her would do me no good.

I knew, having a second chance, I wouldn't let myself be a pawn again.