Regrets Piled Up After The Real Heiress Passed Away

1 After I was dragged back from the brink of suicide in the emergency room, a voice appeared in my head. It called itself a system. It told me that if I completed its gold-digging tasks, it would take me to another world. A world where I would have a family who actually loved me. I was so starved for affection that I agreed instantly. So, when my family abandoned me yet again to take their adoptive daughter, Vivian, to Disneyland, I didn't throw a tantrum. I didn't beg them to stay. I simply opened my bank app and showed them my transfer code. "From now on, I won't fight you over Vivian. As long as you wire me money." "A hundred thousand dollars per person on weekdays, and triple that on weekends and holidays." My parents froze, looking at me with pure disgust. My eldest brother, Mike, a prestigious surgeon, tried to force me to choose between a crucial reconstructive surgery for my legs and the wire transfers. I chose the money without a second thought. Because the surgery was delayed, my legs became severely infected and had to be amputated. My second brother, Tristan, the CEO, called me a gold-digging parasite. Every wire transfer he sent was accompanied by a vicious, insulting note. I didn't argue. I just kept counting my bank balance. … Three months later, the system's gold-digging task was finally complete. I stopped demanding money. Instead, I chose to exit this world in a blaze of explosives. And suddenly, the Sinclair family, whose wire transfers were now being automatically rejected, went into a panic. "Are you sure you want to exit the world this way, Host?" The system's disbelieving voice echoed in my head. Just as I was about to answer, the family group chat started buzzing frantically. "We got Vivian. Her stomach issues flared up again, so I postponed a heart transplant surgery to stay with her." This was Mike, the surgeon. "Is Vivian okay? I canceled a ten-billion-dollar merger that the company spent six months preparing. On my way to the hospital now!" Tristan wrote. "Your mother and I just contacted the airline and grounded our flight to London. We'll be at the hospital in twenty minutes," my father sent. The screen kept lighting up with messages showing their desperate worry for Vivian. I watched quietly, remembering how just an hour ago, a fire had broken out in our villa. I was trapped inside, disabled, sending dozens of frantic messages for help in the group chat. They had only replied with a cold, single digit: "1". But the moment Vivian complained of a mild stomach ache, they dropped everything. My phone screen flickered again. Mike sent a sarcastic meme. "Time to pay up!" "Or else someone's going to threaten suicide again!" "1" "+1" After a few read receipts, the notifications fell silent, followed by the usual transfer alerts. In the past, to finish the system's task, I would accept the money instantly. This time, I left it untouched. I typed calmly: "No need to send any more money. Not now, not ever." Because I was leaving. All the money in the world wouldn't matter where I was going. I closed my phone and looked at the system's countdown timer. "System, in the next world, my parents and brothers will really love me, right?" My fingers tightened around my phone. Before the system could answer, my greed got the better of me. "Can they... can they love only me?" No, wait. Never mind. As long as they love me, that's enough. I quickly took back my words, sitting up and reminding myself not to ask for too much. As long as my new family loved me, it would be enough. As long as they didn't immediately point fingers and blame me when Vivian framed me. As long as they didn't believe Vivian's lies when I got my acceptance letter to Columbia, reporting me to the education board for cheating and plagiarism. I repeated these thoughts like a mantra, using my hands to lift my weight and strap on my cheap prosthetic legs. Guided by the system, I headed toward my exit point. The city's international airport. In thirty minutes, a massive explosion was scheduled to happen here. My task was to find the bomber, and the moment the device went off, throw my body over the blast to shield others. I had researched it before. Dying in an explosion might look horrific, but it would be over too fast to feel much pain. I pumped myself up, taking one deep breath after another as I walked inside. Suddenly, my phone vibrated violently. "Sienna, what the hell is this?" Tristan's angry voice note played. "What do you mean you don't need our money anymore? Are you dying or something? Do you want us to wire you funeral money instead?!" I stopped in my tracks, a familiar bitterness rising in my throat. "Yes, actually. I am going to die." I thought sending that voice note would spark at least a shred of concern in my parents or brothers. But a second later, a loud burst of laughter erupted from behind me. "I told you she'd say that!" "I won! Pay up, a million dollars!" Tristan's mocking voice cut through the airport noise. I turned around and saw my parents and brothers standing not far away, laughing. They hadn't gone to the hospital at all. Before I could even process this, Mike marched over, grabbing my wrist tightly, his face twisted in disgust. "Sienna, didn't you say that as long as we paid you, you'd stop competing with Vivian? What's with this dramatic 'I'm going to die' act in the group chat?" "Our family despises manipulative hypocrites! You really are rotten to the core. Stop making a scene at the airport and get back home before you embarrass us any further!" The word "suicide" tasted like venom on his tongue. My heart ached. Months ago, when Vivian framed me for cheating to get into Columbia, my family hadn't questioned it for a second. They reported me, and then burned my acceptance letter right in front of my face. "Our family has a reputation to uphold. We won't let a cheat ruin our name!" My father had roared, locking me in my room for a month, causing me to miss the enrollment deadline. So, my desperate jump from the balcony back then was nothing but a dramatic act to them. I didn't explain. I didn't say a word. I just looked at the system's timer. Ten minutes left. Only ten minutes until I could go to a world where I had a family who loved me. I pulled away and limped toward the waiting area. Mike grabbed my arm again, his grip cold and unyielding. "Sienna, I am talking to you! Even if you want to throw a tantrum, pick a better place. What are you going to do at the airport? Throw yourself under a plane?" Tristan pulled out his phone, sighing with annoyance. "Enough of this. Let's go home. Vivian needs to get back to her dorm to study. How much do you want this time?" He tapped lazily on his banking app. I looked him in the eye. "I told you. I don't want your money." Tristan's fingers froze. He sneered, "No money? Sienna, are you really planning to play dead here?" His gaze drifted down to my stiff, awkward prosthetic legs, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "If you actually die today, I'll donate every penny of my ten-billion-dollar fund to disabled cripples like you!" He spat the word "cripples" with deliberate malice. I froze, my nails digging into my palms. Before I could speak, Mike chimed in. "Donating money is boring. If Sienna actually dies today, I'll kneel and bow to every single disabled person who walks into my hospital!" I looked up at the system's timer. Three minutes. "Fine," I whispered, interrupting Mike. "Keep your word." "Sienna, do you even know what you're saying?" Tristan's face darkened. Before I could answer, Vivian chimed in, clutching her stomach. "Mike, Tristan, I'm so hungry. If Sienna keeps wasting our time, my stomach is going to start hurting again!" Hearing this, Mike dragged me toward the exit. "Did you hear her? She's hungry. Move!" The pulling made me lose my balance on my prosthetics. Suddenly, Tristan kicked my leg from behind. With a sharp crack, one of my prosthetic legs snapped off. I collapsed onto the cold floor, the stump of my leg scraping against the metal connector, drawing fresh blood. Tristan looked startled for a fraction of a second, but his face quickly hardened again. "You ruined your own body by jumping off a building. You brought this on yourself!" He picked up my broken prosthetic leg and held it high. "Either get up and walk, or crawl back on one leg! We'll be waiting in the VIP lounge. You have ten minutes. If you're not there, don't bother coming back to our family ever again!" I stared at the cheap, shattered plastic of my prosthetic. I remembered when I first arrived at the Sinclair house. They had held me so tight, whispering sweet promises that they would make up for all the years I spent suffering in foster care. They said our family was finally complete. But a few lies from Vivian were all it took for them to throw those promises away. Tears welled in my eyes. I looked up at my parents, who had remained silent the entire time. "Mom, Dad... if I really die today..." Will you be even a little bit sad? But Vivian interrupted me. "Mom, Dad, let's go to the VIP lounge. I want some of those imported fruits. Remember how good they were when we went on vacation for the holidays?" A sharp pain pierced my chest. During those holidays, they had locked me in the house without food for three days, nearly starving me to death, while they went on a family trip. "Sienna, stop playing these cheap games," my mother said, frowning. "We have to take Vivian shopping for bags later. Ten minutes is too long. We'll give you five." She smiled warmly at Vivian, taking her hand as they walked away. I dragged myself up against the wall, wiping the tears from my face, forcing a smile. "System, in the next world, my family will really love me, right?" The countdown hit zero. Near the security checkpoint, a middle-aged man carrying a heavy black duffel bag was pushing his way through the crowd. He looked wild-eyed, unzipping the bag as he reached the center of the terminal. I hopped and crawled, dragging my single leg, scraping against the wall. The pain of the raw skin rubbing against my remaining prosthetic was agonizing, but I pushed through, reaching the man's side. I just needed to grab the bag. I reached out, but suddenly, Vivian threw a piece of watermelon rind down from the VIP balcony above. "Oops, my hand slipped!" she giggled, walking away. The wet rind hit my head, alerting the man. His eyes went red, and he grabbed my wrist, twisting it violently. With a sharp crack, my bone fractured. A spasm of pain ripped through me. The crowd finally noticed and began to scream. The man screamed, "I'll blow us all to hell! Your airline killed my wife and daughter!" He opened the bag to reveal the bomb. The crowd panicked, stampeding for the exits. I was knocked to the floor, but I clamped my hands onto the straps of the duffel bag. The man kicked my face repeatedly, breaking my nose, filling my mouth with blood, but I didn't let go. "Fine! We die together!" the man roared, hitting the detonator. "Beep, beep, beep..." The countdown echoed. Regret suddenly washed over the man; he let go of the bag and ran. The bomb was left entirely in my hands. Through my blood-slicked eyes, I saw the fleeing crowd. Without hesitation, I pulled the duffel bag tight against my chest, throwing my body over it, trying to absorb the blast. In the distance, I thought I heard gentle, loving voices calling my name. The family from the other world was waiting for me. I smiled and closed my eyes. Beep... Beep... BOOM. The shockwave rattled the entire terminal. In the VIP lounge, the Sinclair family instinctively shielded Vivian. A moment later, shouts echoed from outside: "A bomb went off! Someone tried to blow up the terminal!" They hurried out toward the emergency stairs. But then they heard the frantic voices of the crowd: "That poor girl... she only had one leg... she hugged the bomb to her chest to save us... she was blown to pieces..." The words made Mike freeze. "One leg? Sienna? How is that possible?!" Tristan sneered, "She really went all out with the actors this time!" Our parents shrugged. "Five minutes are up. If she's not here, let's go. She needs to learn a lesson." They turned to leave. But then, all of their phones rang at once. On the screens, their own faces looked back at them, faces from the future, pale, desperate, and screaming in agony. "Stop Sienna!" "Don't let her touch that bomb!!"