Ting Ting was still holding her cheek when Shen Yu crossed the hall in long, furious strides.
The crowd parted for him instinctively.
He didn't look at her first.
He looked at me.
"What is wrong with you?" His voice was low, controlled — which was always more dangerous than when he shouted. "Explain yourself. Now."
Explain.
How does one explain having watched her parents die?
How does one explain remembering the cold floor beneath her knees while the man she loved calculated profit margins over her corpse?
I tilted my head slightly, as if confused by his anger.
"She's wearing my necklace," I said calmly.
A murmur ran through the guests.
Shen Yu frowned. "What necklace?"
I stepped closer and lifted my chin toward Ting Ting's collarbone.
There it was.
The jade bead necklace.
Small. Simple. Green as spring rain.
My mother's last birthday gift to me.
The one she clasped around my neck herself, laughing as she said, "May it protect you when I'm not around."
In my last life, it had been ripped off me in that warehouse. I remembered the snap of thread. The beads rolling across concrete while my mother screamed.
Shen Yu glanced at it, unimpressed.
"That?" His lips curved in faint disdain. "Xie Mei, don't embarrass yourself. It's just jade."
Just jade.
The room watched carefully now. They all knew Shen Yu favored Ting Ting. They all knew I was the easier one to correct.
"You're being petty," he continued. "If Ting Ting likes it, let her have it. Why are you acting so cheap?"
Cheap.
The word struck harder than the slap.
In my past life, after I was dead, he told the board I had been emotionally unstable. Irrational. Difficult. That he had endured me out of obligation.
He built sympathy on my grave.
Ting Ting reached up, touching the necklace as if suddenly remembering she wore it.
"Oh my god," she gasped softly. "Mei Mei, I didn't realize this was the one Auntie gave you. I just thought it matched my dress. I'm so sorry."
Her eyes shimmered with practiced guilt.
Always the perfect victim.
She moved to unclasp it.
"See?" Shen Yu said sharply to me. "She didn't even know. Stop making a scene."
Stop making a scene.
In the warehouse, I begged him to stop making a scene while my father bled.
I felt something inside me shift — not rage.
Clarity.
"My mother gave that to me," I said evenly. "I don't give away things she gave me. Not to anyone."
Not to anyone.
For a split second, something flickered in Shen Yu's eyes.
Possessiveness? Annoyance?
Ting Ting hurriedly removed the necklace. "Here, take it back," she said, stepping toward me.
Her heel twisted.
Or perhaps it didn't.
Her fingers loosened.
The thread snapped.
The jade beads scattered across the marble floor like shattered stars.
Gasps filled the air.
Green rolled everywhere — under tables, toward shoes, into dark corners.
The hall echoed with the sound of tiny pieces striking stone.
Ting Ting froze.
"Oh no…" she whispered.
But her lips were trembling too perfectly.
Too carefully.
I remembered that sound.
In my last life, I watched the beads scatter across a warehouse floor while my mother tried to crawl toward them.
Now they lay broken again.
Shen Yu exhaled in irritation. "It was an accident. Stop glaring at her. It's not a priceless artifact."
Not priceless.
My mother's laugh.
Not priceless.
My father's pride when he said I would inherit everything one day.
Not priceless.
My brother's hand gripping mine in the dark.
Something hot surged through my veins.
I stepped forward.
And I slapped Ting Ting again.
Harder.
Her body stumbled sideways this time, colliding into a table. A glass crashed to the ground.
The entire hall erupted in whispers.
"You—" Shen Yu grabbed my wrist this time, fingers digging into my skin. "Have you lost your mind?"
I turned slowly to face him.
His grip was strong.
But I remembered stronger.
I remembered rope cutting into my wrists.
I remembered him watching.
I did not pull away.
Instead, I smiled.
"Accidents," I said softly, looking at Ting Ting as she crouched dramatically to gather beads, "have consequences."
For the first time, Shen Yu truly looked at me.
Not through me.
At me.
The softness he relied on was gone.
The fear he counted on was gone.
The obedient fiancée he controlled —
Was gone.
"Pick them up," I said quietly to Ting Ting.
She looked up, shocked.
"Every single one."
The hall was so silent you could hear beads still rolling in distant corners.
And for the first time in two lifetimes—
They were the ones tremblin