"It is not your decision. The marriage is no longer valid," Emily said calmly, her gaze steady as it landed on Nathan.
Nathan leaned back, utterly relaxed, lips curving into a lazy smile. "Baby, we're bound for life. You can't separate from me, so don't bother trying." He turned his head slightly, eyes flicking toward Prim. "And Prim, your allowance is cut by eighty percent."
Prim's brows lifted. "You do remember you're changing identities, right? You can't order me around anymore. Also, we're age mates now. Should I start calling you 'Dad' or just Nathan?" he asked, smiling so warmly it was downright provocative.
Nathan nodded approvingly, then looked back at Emily as if Prim no longer existed. "By the way, your treasure room was robbed. By Prim. He sold everything and replaced them with high-quality fakes."
There was a brief pause.
Prim bolted to his feet.
A shoe flew through the air with terrifying precision.
Thud.
Prim crashed back to the floor, clutching his head.
"PRIM—YOU ARE DEAD!" Emily roared, already storming after him.
Prim scrambled up, screaming as if he were in a horror movie, darting across the room with Emily in hot pursuit. Furniture was overturned. A vase narrowly survived annihilation.
Ava pinched the bridge of her nose.
Why did it feel like she wasn't just raising her twin anymore—but her parents too?
"You're all childish," Ava muttered under her breath.
Nathan chuckled softly, watching the chaos with clear enjoyment. "You'll get used to it."
Just then, Ava's phone rang.
She glanced at the screen. Mrs. Carter.
Nathan raised a brow. "Why didn't you pick up?"
"She's probably calling to beg me to let Henry go. Now that they know you're not dead," Ava replied calmly.
Nathan scoffed. "Tsk. They didn't even see my body. And Henry is already trying to stir drama." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm surprised the others haven't joined in yet."
"Uncle Jacob and Aunt Isabella are probably still scared after last time," Ava replied, pouring herself a cup of tea. "And Elena just got discharged. As for Uncle Peter—your sister's husband—he'll probably try something and ask Aunt Grace for help again."
Nathan nodded absently.
Ava finally looked up. "So who caused the accident?"
"The Chen family. And Mary," Nathan said casually. "But someone else helped them. A mysterious party."
Ava narrowed her eyes. "And?"
Nathan stood, stretching lazily. "I'll leave that to you. I'm too young to deal with that kind of mess."
He walked out.
Ava stared after him, stunned.
"We are the same age!" she yelled, dragging a hand through her hair in pure frustration.
Somewhere down the hall, Prim was still screaming. Emily was still chasing him.
Prim came back not long after—hair a complete mess, clothes rumpled, and a very obvious limp in his steps. He had definitely taken a serious beating.
"Let's go home," Prim said, already turning to leave.
"Oh? Running already?" Ava taunted, folding her arms leisurely.
"Yes, I am," Prim replied flatly, rolling his eyes. "My mother just robbed me of all my money."
Ava snorted. "Did you contact the system? That stupid pendant never mentioned something like this happening."
Prim shrugged, reaching for the tea Ava had poured earlier and taking a slow sip as if his body wasn't falling apart. "Relax. It's probably just a side effect of us returning to the past. We didn't see the warning from the pendant, we're still here, and more importantly—they didn't get recalled. That means we're safe."
"Don't jinx it," Ava snapped immediately. "All of this is your fault. If you had followed my plan, Mom and Dad would've gotten married in the past already."
Prim glanced at her.
"But no," Ava continued coldly, "what actually happened? In the past, Mom and Dad hated each other so much they practically wanted to kill one another. And yet the only result is that they became younger." Her eyes narrowed. "I think there's more to this."
Prim went quiet.
The siblings exchanged a look—sharp, thoughtful, and unspoken understanding passing between them.
"…Nah," Prim said at the same time Ava spoke.
"We should leave it to the adults."
They blinked.
Then both turned on their heels and rushed out of the compound together, abandoning responsibility without a shred of guilt.
Inside the Chen mansion, the usually immaculate corridors were in quiet chaos.
Servants moved at brisk, disciplined paces—maids lowering their heads as they passed, butlers whispering instructions into earpieces, aides rushing documents from one wing to another.
The atmosphere was tense enough that even the chandeliers seemed dimmer, their crystal facets catching light like frozen shards. No one dared speak louder than necessary. Everyone knew something had gone terribly wrong.
Deep within the mansion, the study stood shut.
It was a vast room lined with dark rosewood shelves, heavy curtains drawn tight against the afternoon light. The air inside was suffocatingly cold, not from temperature but from pressure.
Old Master Chen sat rigidly on the main couch, his cane resting beside him, veins standing out on his temples.
Across from him, Chen Yulan knelt on the polished floor, blood trailing down his forehead, staining the marble beneath him. Shattered porcelain lay scattered around—evidence of the vases already sacrificed to the old man's fury.
Standing nearby were the second and third sons of the Chen family, their expressions restrained but calculating, each already measuring losses and exits in their minds.
"For generations," Old Master Chen roared, his voice echoing violently against the walls, "the Chen family has expanded across countries, industries, and power structures. I built this empire with my own hands—and now it is your turn to inherit it!"
Another vase flew.
It shattered against Chen Yulan's shoulder. He didn't even flinch.
"And yet you are destroying everything!" the old man continued, chest heaving.
"Father," the second son stepped forward cautiously, voice calm and measured, "please don't agitate yourself. This is not the time for anger. We need to think of a solution."
"A solution?" the third brother snapped, turning sharply toward Chen Yulan. "Brother Yulan, do you even understand what you've done? The project you stole pushed the family to the edge of bankruptcy.
And because of your actions, we've been completely banned by Nathan's empire—and the Carter family."
The room fell even colder at those names.
Chen Yulan suddenly laughed.
A low, sharp snort escaped him as he lifted his head, eyes blazing with a manic intensity.
"So what? You're afraid of a girl?" he sneered.
"If Nathan and Emily are truly alive, then why would their daughter need to step in? She silenced us once—but if we keep attacking, we can still swallow Nathan's empire whole."
The second brother's expression darkened. "You've gone mad."
He stepped closer. "Do you think the Carter family—or the other major factions—will just let such a massive piece of meat slip from their hands? And tell me something, Yulan—how are you so certain they're dead?"
His gaze sharpened.
"…Did you kill them?"
Before Chen Yulan could respond—
"Enough."
Old Master Chen slammed his cane into the floor.
His voice was firm, final, carrying an authority that allowed no rebuttal. "Both of you. Get out."
The second and third brothers froze, then exchanged a brief look—one of silent understanding—before turning and leaving the study.
The doors closed behind them with a heavy thud.
Outside, in the long corridor, servants immediately lowered their heads further, pretending not to exist as the two brothers passed.
"Tsk," the second brother muttered under his breath as they walked away. "The Chen family… it's already finished."
He didn't need evidence. Their father's reaction, Chen Yulan's madness—it all confirmed it. He had already sold his shares quietly. He had seen the collapse coming.
The third brother slowed his steps, finally understanding what his elder brother meant. His expression turned grim.
Something terrible had happened—
something far worse than they had been told.
Better late than sorry, he thought.
If even the second brother was retreating, then it was time to distance himself as well. But not before extracting every last benefit he could.
In the Chen mansion, beneath its grand walls and polished floors, betrayal, fear, and greed quietly took root—signaling the beginning of the end.
Inside the Chen family study, silence pressed down like a physical weight.
Old Master Chen sat heavily in the armchair, his spine rigid, his eyes sharp despite his age. In front of him, Chen Yulan knelt straight-backed, head lowered just enough to show respect—but not remorse.
"You caused the accident," Old Master Chen said slowly, each word heavy with restrained fury. "How stupid can you be?"
For a fleeting moment, murder flashed through the old man's mind.
He had once been proud of his three sons.
The second—clever and venomous, a snake that hid in shadows.
The third—crafty, opportunistic, always knowing how to profit without getting his hands dirty.
The eldest—ruthless, intelligent, a born controller who knew exactly how to grip people by their weaknesses.
The two younger brothers wanted the eldest dead, yet they never dared act. He knew too much. Controlled too much.
And now—this same eldest son was behaving like a fool.
Unforgivable, Old Master Chen thought.
"Father," Chen Yulan spoke calmly, lifting his head. His voice was steady, disturbingly so. "Yes. I caused the accident. But Nathan fooled me first—fooled everyone."
Old Master Chen's fingers tightened around his cane.
"He used that woman—Mary," Chen Yulan continued coldly. "Handed her a project that should have earned hundreds of billions. On the surface, it was perfect. In reality, it was designed to collapse. A beautiful trap."
"I fell for it. Others did too." His lips curled slightly. "But I couldn't let him continue. His next move would have destabilized entire markets."
"So you killed him?" Old Master Chen asked sharply.
"I planted a seed," Chen Yulan corrected.
"Mary acted. She was the one who drove the car. She was the one who lost control."
A pause.
"And they're dead," he added. "If they were alive, Father, don't you think they would've already struck back? John spoke up, yes—but words mean nothing without proof."
Old Master Chen stared at his son for a long time.
"I am old," he finally said. "That is why I left the family in your hands." He stood. "Do not make me regret it."
He walked out of the study.
The silence that followed felt like judgment—and approval all at once.
Chen Yulan lowered his head again, a smile barely touching his lips.
"In the end," he murmured to himself, "I will still be the one laughing."
Somewhere else
Mary felt like she was already dead.
The slum district swallowed sound and light alike.
Narrow alleys twisted like veins through crumbling buildings, walls stained with years of grime and desperation. Garbage bags piled high beside rusted fences, flies hovering in thick black clouds. Old neon signs flickered weakly, casting sickly colors over broken pavement.
People passed by without looking.
A woman dragging a child with hollow eyes.
A drunk man slumped against a wall.
Street vendors packing up early, sensing trouble in the air.
Mary stood near a heap of dirt and discarded concrete, her back pressed into the shadow of an alley. Across the street, a group of thugs kicked open the doors of the cheap apartment complex she had been hiding in—shouting, breaking things, dragging people out by their collars.
They were looking for her.
Her once-glossy hair hung dull and tangled around her face.
Her clothes were wrinkled, stained, nothing like the designer dresses she used to wear. The woman reflected in a cracked window didn't look like her at all.
Why?
Why did it turn out like this?
She had only wanted wealth. Status. A handsome, powerful husband.
She was smart. She was beautiful. She had believed she was special.
Nathan loved me, she had thought.
But it was all a lie.
He had used her—to destroy Chen Yulan, to destroy everyone.
The project, the promises, the future—it had all been bait.
Now the companies involved were hunting her like dogs.
They wanted someone to blame. Someone to die.
Chen Yulan had discarded her the moment things went wrong.
And the accident—
"I didn't mean to kill them," Mary whispered, nails digging into her palm. Rage, jealousy, hatred—fed by Chen Yulan's words, by his lies about Emily—had driven her hands on that steering wheel.
They were supposed to die.
They should have died.
Yet somehow, the world was protecting them.
If not for Ava and John suppressing the news, her name would have been dragged through every headline, every screen, for years.
Mary's chest tightened.
If she was going to fall—
Then everyone would fall with her.
Her eyes hardened. She pulled out her phone with trembling fingers and dialed a number she had sworn never to use again.
Ava.
The iron gates of the secluded compound slid shut behind them, swallowed by mist and towering trees as Prim's sports car surged forward.
The road curved downward, leaving silence behind and dragging them back toward noise, lights, and people.
By the time the tires hit the main highway, the city was already welcoming them—streetlamps lining the road like watchful eyes, traffic flowing in impatient streams, horns blaring, engines roaring. Neon signs flickered overhead, reflecting against the sleek black body of the car.
Pedestrians crowded the sidewalks in clusters: couples arguing, students laughing too loudly, office workers dragging their exhaustion home. Life moved fast, careless, unaware.
Inside the car, the atmosphere was tight.
Ava sat back in the passenger seat, phone glowing in her hand. Her expression was calm on the surface, but the sharp movement of her fingers betrayed her irritation.
They had barely left the compound when the call came.
Prim glanced at her reflection in the windshield. "Who is it?"
Ava scoffed, running a hand through her long hair. "The so-called mistress."
She leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly as the city lights painted her face in shifting gold and white. "This is frustrating. First the Carter family, now this mess. It's like everyone suddenly remembered how much they want to be involved in my life."
Cars sped past them on both sides, luxury sedans and motorcycles weaving aggressively through traffic.
A bus groaned to a stop nearby, passengers spilling out under flickering streetlights.
"They're probably trying to see if our parents are really dead," Prim said casually, one hand steady on the wheel. "Testing reactions.
Either way, not my problem. I'm sleeping like a log . We've got school tomorrow, remember?"
Ava shot him a sideways look. "Wow. Someone's pretending to be responsible."
Prim smirked but didn't reply.
"So what now?" he asked instead, eyes back on the road as they merged deeper into the city.