Betrayal Made Her Queen Free Preview

The pain of her organs shutting down hadn't even faded yet when a voice rang out in her ears—sharp, familiar, and full of anger.

"Azalea, you've really let us down!"

As her vision slowly became focused, Azalea Yarrow saw who was talking. It was her fourth brother, Bastian Lark.

Her eyes flickered with shock and disbelief. Had she really been reborn? Reborn five years back—to the day Sydney Lark was publicly acknowledged as an heir?

That day, Azalea was framed by Sydney. Everyone believed she was just jealous of Sydney—so consumed with fighting over Sydney's share of the inheritance that she'd actually pushed her down the stairs in an attempt to kill her.

The moment it happened, her second brother, Matthias Lark, had rushed in like clockwork and saved Sydney just in time. She came away with nothing more than a scare.

Bastian had shown up immediately and forced her to admit fault without even getting the full picture.

She'd tried to explain, even swore on her life, but to them, everything she said was just a lie to cover her tracks.

Ultimately, she was forced to bow down before the guests and apologize to Sydney. And to 'make up for the trauma Sydney suffered,' their parents decided to hand over Azalea's share of the inheritance to her.

In one day, she became the laughingstock of all Draywick.

And that was just the beginning of the nightmare.

She was naturally beautiful. Sydney once said, 'If only I could look as good as her,' and the next thing Azalea knew, her cheek was scarred from an allergic reaction. She wasn't allowed to be prettier than Sydney—that would make Sydney insecure. So her face had to be ruined.

She had an incredible talent for painting. Sydney once said she wished she could be as gifted, and just like that, all of Azalea's work was credited to Sydney. Azalea was labeled a plagiarist and expelled under the disappointed eyes of her teachers.

And it didn't stop there. Because Sydney had a heart condition and couldn't exercise like a normal person, Azalea was put on a restricted diet and forced to act like a sickly, fragile companion to her.

But none of that spared her from being kicked out of the house.

After years of never eating enough and suffering severe malnutrition, penniless and alone, she curled up under a bridge, her body failing her, and waited in silence for death.

Azalea blinked and looked around. Matthias was holding Sydney protectively, his face full of worry. Bastian was glaring at her with nothing but rage and disgust.

But weren't they the ones who found her and said they wanted to make things right?

Bastian's patience had clearly run dry. Seeing her just stand there, he reached out, grabbed her wrist, and yanked her in front of Sydney.

"Apologize!"

The pain in her wrist snapped her out of it. She looked up and met Bastian's eyes.

Of the four brothers, he was only two years older than her. He used to be the one who understood her best, who she was closest to.

Now, those eyes that once held warmth for her were filled with nothing but annoyance.

"Forget it, Bastian. It's really not a big deal," Sydney said, waving her hand with a soft smile. "After all, even though I'm a Lark by name, I'm not really family. It's normal for Azalea to be upset." She sounded so understanding, like she wanted to just brush everything off. But her words left too much for others to fill in themselves.

Matthias exploded on the spot. He pointed at Azalea's face and snapped, "If I'd known you'd turn into something this vicious, I would've told Mom and Dad not to bring you back. You should've just died out there!"

Azalea felt like she'd fallen into an ice-cold lake. Her whole body went numb.

So that's what they thought. That her existence wasn't worth it if it threatened Sydney.

She wished the Larks had never found her—if she had the choice.

She gritted her teeth through the pain in her wrist and yanked her hand back. Her voice was hoarse as she asked, "So you all really think I pushed Sydney?"

Sydney gave her a helpless look. "Azalea ... "

She didn't say more, but even that spoke louder than Azalea could've said in her own defense.

Bastian looked more disappointed than ever. He'd thought she'd at least be brave enough to face her mistake. But even now, she was still trying to deny it.

"Azalea, when did you become like this?" he asked.

When she first returned to the Larks, she'd been so resilient and pure—like a little sun that warmed all of them.

"You want me to spell it out?" Matthias growled. "You were jealous that Sydney was getting part of the inheritance. You thought she was stealing what's yours, so you pushed her down the stairs and tried to kill her." His eyes burned with hatred like he could burn Azalea to the ground with just a look.

"Those ten years you were gone, it was Sydney who comforted us, who helped Mom and Dad hold on. After you returned, she kept stepping aside so you wouldn't feel upset. What more do you want? That inheritance was always rightfully hers!"

Azalea gave a cold little smile. So apparently, Sydney had done all that for her?

"I was wrong," she said.

She had been wrong for thinking she could still expect real family love from them. That hope? She was done with it.

Sydney looked troubled. "Azalea, I don't blame you."

Azalea gave her a small smile. "A mistake is a mistake. I'll fix what I did wrong."

Her mistake was coming back to the Larks. So she'd be the one to end that mistake—personally.

Hearing that, a flicker of satisfaction passed through Sydney's eyes. The love of the Larks could only belong to her and her alone.

On the surface, she looked heartbroken and waved her hands quickly. "Azalea, you don't have to do this. You already apologized. I don't need anything else."

Matthias, holding Sydney in his arms, softened instantly. Sydney was always like this—so forgiving, even when she'd been hurt.

He looked down at her gently. "Don't feel bad. You're just getting what you deserve."

Then he turned back to Azalea, sneering coldly. "At least you still have a shred of conscience." And with that, he walked off with Sydney, not even bothering to look back.

Bastian glanced at Azalea again. His gaze dropped to her wrist, and he froze. Was that his doing?

Her pale wrist was red and swollen from where he'd grabbed her.

For a second, a trace of guilt crossed his eyes—but it quickly twisted into blame.

"You shouldn't have gone against Sydney. Think about how you will explain all this when Mom, Dad, and others return.

"Put some medicine on that wrist."

Azalea didn't answer. It wasn't until everyone was gone and the room fell into complete silence that she finally bent over and clutched her stomach—laughing.

Her laugh was wild, almost manic, like she'd completely lost it.

Her eyes were brimming with tears.

It was always like this. They'd push her to despair, then toss her a sliver of hope. Just enough to make her keep waiting, keep believing that if she just behaved and endured a little longer, everything would be okay.

She laughed so hard it hurt and started coughing violently. Finally, she wiped her tears and turned around to head back to her room.

A framed family photo sat right in the center of her dresser. Azalea stared at it, her expression ice-cold.

In the picture, a couple stands behind six kids—two girls and four boys. The little girl on the far edge looks completely out of place.

That was her.

She'd gotten lost when she was five and was only found again at 15. During the first year after she disappeared, her mother nearly had a mental breakdown. Her father, trying to comfort her, adopted a girl from an orphanage who looked a little like her.

From then on, all the guilt the Larks felt toward Azalea was poured into Sydney. She became the brightest little princess in all of Draywick.

When they found Azalea again, their parents and four brothers tried their best to make it up to her, just like they'd promised.

But slowly, things started to change.

"Azalea, Sydney has a heart condition. Just be a little more considerate of her."

"Azalea, just by coming back, you've already taken away half of the love meant for Sydney. Don't be so petty."

"Azalea, we're your family—but Sydney only has us. Can't you be more understanding?"

Azalea dug her fingernails into the edge of the desk until they broke, snapping her out of her thoughts. None of it mattered anymore.

She reached under her bed and pulled out a white box, not a speck of dust on it. Then she stood up and walked out the door.

When Azalea entered the main hall, Sydney stood dead center, basking in everyone's attention. Matthias and Bastian flanked her on either side like loyal knights protecting their precious princess.

Her appearance instantly stirred whispers among the guests.

Pity. Disdain. Ridicule. Every glance was laced with curiosity, like they were just waiting for her to crash and burn.

Azalea's lashes lifted slightly, a flicker of mockery in her eyes. Everyone here knew—she was nothing but a clown in this house. The sad part? She hadn't realized it before. She'd actually believed that maybe, just maybe, this family would one day see her for who she was.

In a city like Draywick, crawling with rich people, the Larks were still among the most elite.

Her father, Wesley Lark, had risen from nothing. This financial genius rode the market's waves and became a regular on business news channels. Her mother, Ivy Lark, was a world-renowned fashion designer with a brand name that held real weight overseas.

And then there were the four brothers—each one more brilliant than the last.

The eldest, Cassius Lark, had taken over the family business and was the city's most eligible bachelor.

The second brother, Matthias Lark, is a genius doctor with a private lab.

The third brother, Skyler Lark, was a multi-award-winning actor in the entertainment world. Blessed with both talent and luck, he could win awards for even just playing a corpse.

The fourth brother, Bastian Lark, a former esports player who transitioned to the behind-the-scenes world after an injury, founded the undisputed number-one esports club in the industry—Anexis.

To be adored by people like that, who could resist?

Azalea slowly let out a breath. But none of that had anything to do with her anymore.

She was in her last year of high school. One year—that's all she needed. She'd live for herself, get into the university she wanted, make enough money, and cut every tie to the Larks for good.

When Matthias saw the white box in her hands, his face immediately darkened. He frowned and snapped, "What's this now? Trying to pull another stunt?"

Bastian narrowed his eyes. That box looked familiar.

"Didn't you want me to apologize to Sydney?" Azalea's voice was calm and neutral.

Hearing that she was finally ready to admit fault, Matthias actually looked a little pleased. "At least you've still got a sliver of conscience."

Bastian gave her a small smile. "Azalea, you've finally grown up."

He glanced at her with a look that, for a second, almost resembled affection. "Matthias and I talked it over earlier. We decided to give your Jubilee training camp spot to Sydney."

It wasn't a discussion. It was a decision.

Azalea didn't look surprised at all.

In her past life, it'd gone exactly the same. Bastian, all in the name of making Sydney feel better, had handed over her hard-earned spot without even asking her.

Sydney had talent in art, sure—but just because she had potential, Azalea was forced to give up her path, even though she had the top scores in academic classes. She had to follow Sydney's footsteps into the art world.

Sydney had felt inferior about falling short in academic classes, so she needed to outshine Azalea in the arts. But, surprise—Azalea turned out to be even more gifted. She didn't just earn the top ranking at school. She was awarded the only elite spot in the training camp at the Jubilee Academy of Fine Arts.

Jubilee gave a handful of these coveted spots to senior high school art students every year. Anyone who got this spot ended up leaving their mark on art history.

Sydney gasped and immediately put on her goody-two-shoes act. "I can't take that spot—it's not mine. Matthias, Bastian, please take it back."

Disgusting. It was so fake that it made Azalea want to gag.

She stared at Sydney, unblinking. If Sydney hadn't hinted she wanted it, would the brothers have remembered it at all?

In her past life, she'd been devastated. Heartbroken. Furious. Why did her things always end up in Sydney's hands? Why was she constantly punished for crimes she never committed?

But now? Now, she didn't care. Give it to her. Let Sydney have it all. All it meant was another chance to humiliate herself, trying to wear shoes too big for her.

Besides, this time around, she wasn't even planning to take the art route anymore.

Matthias held Sydney close, stroking her head like she was made of glass. "Silly girl. Of course, you can take it."

Azalea smiled. "Exactly. What's the problem?"

Then she popped open the box in her hands. "Just a spot? That's not enough.

"This box holds the most valuable things I have. I'm giving them all to you."

Inside were all the gifts she'd received since returning to the Larks.

This was her first step in severing ties. One by one, she would cut every thread. She was actually a little curious—without her around to plug up the holes, could Sydney still play the family's perfect little darling like in the previous life?

Not to mention Bastian. Even Matthias' expression froze when he looked inside that box.

These were things Azalea used to treasure more than life itself.

Bastian's face turned grim as he leaped to his feet. "Put it back!"

Inside the box was a lake blue-colored case, and inside it was the sapphire crown he had gifted her. It was a present he bought with the prize money from his first world championship win in Erlands during his professional career!

No wonder the box looked familiar. He remembered now—on the day he gave it to her, she'd carefully placed it inside the white box, then wiped the dust off even though it was spotless.

She'd just turned 16. Her cute face, a bit rounder than when she first came home, was all smiles, and her words were sincere: "Bastian, this is my favorite treasure."

Azalea tilted her head and blinked innocently. "Didn't you want me to apologize?"

Bastian's throat tightened. They'd wanted her to apologize, yes—but not like this.

How could she bear to give this up? Weren't these things priceless to her?

He stood there, confused and shaken. He'd just wanted to stop her from turning into a bad person. Was that so wrong?

Matthias gritted his teeth. "Are you apologizing or making a statement?"

Azalea's smile widened. "Matthias, why are you angry again? Isn't an apology supposed to be sincere? Isn't this sincere enough?"

He had no words. Of course, it was sincere. Everyone in the Larks knew—these gifts were worth more to Azalea than her own life.

Even Sydney was surprised. What was Azalea doing? Was this a real apology or just a way to gain pity?

But she wanted those things. Oh, she wanted them.

Her eyes flashed with jealousy. Every item was one of a kind—things even she didn't have.

She bit her lip and tried to look reluctant. "Azalea, it's too much. These gifts were from Mom, Dad, and our brothers. They mean more than just money. I can't accept them."

She shook her head in refusal.

Such a sweet little act—Matthias' heart melted on the spot. And in comparison, Azalea's actions felt like a slap in the face.

Was she mocking us?

Trying to guilt-trip us?

He sneered. "Fine. Do you want to give them away? Just don't come crying to take them back later."

He grabbed one item and shoved it into Sydney's hands. "From now on, all of this is yours."

Sydney kept her face tight with fake conflict, but inside, she screamed joyfully. She wasn't going to turn down something she wanted this badly.

Well, that was that. Garbage returned to its rightful place. Azalea shrugged and turned to leave. She didn't care what any of them thought anymore.

Bastian panicked. He felt like something important was slipping through his fingers. He took a step forward on instinct.

Sydney saw his movement and instantly clutched her chest, crying out, "It hurts!"

Bastian froze. He turned and saw her pale face. Without a second of hesitation, he scooped her into his arms. "Matthias—get the car!"

Of course, Azalea noticed the commotion. But she didn't even look back. Whether Sydney was faking it or not—it didn't matter.

Me and Sydney? Ha, no choice. I'm not even on their radar.

The old Azalea would've been hurt, heartbroken by how her brothers cared more for Sydney.

But now? Let her fake it. Let her be sick for real. If Sydney dropped dead, Azalea would be the first to cheer.

Sydney's sudden heart attack threw the Larks into chaos.

Whatever thoughts Bastian had about talking to Azalea were instantly forgotten.

Matthias, on the other hand, let his emotions spiral. In his eyes, Sydney's condition was entirely Azalea's fault—first pushing her down the stairs with malicious intent, then using that fake apology to further torment her, stirring up so much emotional distress it triggered her illness.

Upstairs in her room, Azalea lay on her bed while Sydney had already been rushed to the hospital.

The guests who came to the banquet were being quietly ushered out by the butler.

The new school year was just two days away. Since she'd decided not to pursue arts anymore, it was time to contact her teacher and return to her original academic class.

She wouldn't make the same mistake twice—never again would she be the stepping stone beneath Sydney's climb to fame and glory.

In her past life, Sydney didn't have the grades to get into Jubilee. At the same time, Azalea had secured automatic admission through a prestigious national art competition. The Larks had forced her to take the test for Sydney—even though it meant sacrificing her own future.

Maybe Sydney got lucky, or maybe Azalea had been too capable. Against all odds, they pulled it off.

But that was only the beginning.

After entering university, Sydney was credited with everything Azalea achieved. Every time she tried to resist, the Larks cut off her financial support, leaving her helpless.

That's why, in this life, her first goal was to make her own money. Once she had financial independence, she could finally take her first real step forward.

And honestly, she was curious—could Sydney still become the internationally acclaimed 'genius artist' she was in their last life without her?

With her eyes closed, exhaustion finally caught up with her. Azalea slowly drifted into sleep.

She was awakened hours later by sharp, cramping pain in her stomach. Her face turned ghostly pale, sweat dripping from her forehead like rain, each drop soaking into the sheets.

It hurt so much.

Gritting her teeth, she struggled out of bed to reach the painkillers in the drawer. After years of being underfed and neglected in the Larks, she'd developed a severe gastric condition.

She had forgotten—today, she'd been ordered to stick by Sydney's side all day, 'protecting' her. She hadn't even had a single bite to eat. With the main family members gone for dinner, not a single maid cared whether she starved.

Before she could find the meds, a sharp knock pounded on the door like a death sentence.

A maid stood there to inform her that her father had told her she needed to go to the hospital and apologize to Sydney.

Clutching her stomach, Azalea climbed into the car. By now, the pain had numbed her, her face as pale as a ghost.

Another apology. How many sins did she supposedly owe Sydney? What does she want to do this time?

She leaned against the car window, eyes closed. Whatever Sydney wanted from her this time—it didn't matter. She had nothing left to give anyway.

Dragging her feet down the hospital corridor, she finally reached Sydney's room. She pushed the door open—only to be met with a vicious slap across the face.

"You heartless brat! Can't stand to see your sister doing well, huh?" The man in the crisp, tailored suit looked refined, but the rage in his dark eyes betrayed every ounce of that elegance.

To him, Azalea wasn't a daughter—just a mortal enemy.

"Cough." Azalea slowly straightened, touched the side of her stinging face, and tasted blood in her mouth.

This man was her father—Wesley.

Behind him stood her second brother, Matthias, his gaze just as cold. "If anything happens to Sydney, I won't forgive you!"

Sydney lay on the hospital bed, nestled in Bastian's arms, gazing at Azalea with a pained, sorrowful expression.

Azalea laughed under her breath. So that's why she'd been summoned.

In her past life, her father had missed Sydney's big day because of an important business meeting. Already consumed with guilt, he came home to rumors that Azalea had pushed Sydney. Furious, he dragged out the family whip and beat her half to death.

Then, he officially announced her inheritance now belonged to Sydney.

She didn't know exactly what had happened this time, but it wasn't hard to guess. It was all playing out the same way—using her to soothe Sydney's fragile little ego.

But the reality was ...

"What exactly did I do?" Azalea asked, looked straight at the man who claimed to be her father.

Had she crippled Sydney? Maimed her? Everyone demanded apologies—but for what crime?

Wesley's rage deepened. "What kind of attitude is that? Watch your tone!"

He felt his authority being challenged and, without a word, raised his hand to slap her again.

Azalea didn't know where the strength came from. Despite the searing pain in her gut, she reached up and caught his wrist.

"Did I say anything wrong? Matthias, Bastian—did either of you actually see me push Sydney down the stairs? No! You just assumed it happened, so it must be true. You didn't even bother checking the stairwell cameras!"

Her voice rose to a near scream, a release of all the pain and injustice she'd bottled up for so long.

Maybe Azalea had always been the type to endure silently, to cry, and apologize. But now, her fire left them stunned.

"You still didn't take proper care of Sydney! That's your fault, too!" Matthias roared. How dare she still argue?

"And that apology you gave—was that some kind of trick? You brought out those gifts just to trigger her heart attack, didn't you?!"

His chest heaved. He was furious.

"Apologize!" Wesley barked, face dark with wrath.

"I've discussed it with your brothers. Your inheritance share goes to Sydney."

Still nestled in Bastian's arms, Sydney tried weakly to sit up. "No, don't. Dad, I'm fine. This isn't Azalea's fault. Just an apology is enough."

See? So gracious. So forgiving.

Azalea nearly laughed out loud. If she apologized now, then the crime of 'hurting Sydney' would stick to her for life.

"Shut up!" Azalea snapped, staring coldly at Sydney. There would be no apology. Dream on.

"Take care of Sydney? What am I, her mom? Her maid? She's an adult—why should I be held responsible for every second of her day? Where exactly does that obligation come from?" She let go of her stomach, her spine straighter than it had been in days.

Bastian hesitated. He noticed the strange pallor on Azalea's face and was about to step in to defuse the situation.

But Azalea didn't give him a chance. "Even if Sydney was scared because of me, even if I didn't take good care of her—didn't I bring out all those valuable gifts to make amends? Yet, I'm still wrong? You all don't find that ridiculous?

"Why did you even bring me back to this family in the first place?"

Everyone knew they were biased. But they could not maintain their proud faces when Azalea said it aloud.

"Go check the cameras. If it really was me who pushed Sydney down the stairs, don't just make me apologize—take my life for hers, I don't care!"

That shut Sydney up in an instant.

She'd always been confident her parents and brothers would side with her no matter what. That's why she never worried about consequences. But suppose anyone actually looked at the footage. In that case, they'd see it clearly: the second she heard her brothers coming, she flung herself down the stairs.

"No need for that!" Sydney's voice jumped several pitches in panic.

Realizing her mistake, she quickly clutched her chest, bit her lip, and softened her voice. "Everyone, you've already done so much for me. Checking the footage would just be too much trouble. Let's just say I fell by accident."

Matthias, seeing her fragile act, immediately melted. "Nothing about you is ever too much trouble."

Wesley frowned, eyes full of disappointment as he looked at Azalea. "We just didn't expect you to become like this."

She'd heard those exact words in her past life—so many times, they were etched into her bones.

Her stomach felt like it was on fire. The pain was unbearable.

Sweat drenched her temples.

Azalea squinted toward Bastian. His mouth was moving, but all she could hear was a loud, high-pitched ringing. Her vision went black. And she collapsed on the floor.

Bastian's heart jumped into his throat. Just as he was about to suggest checking the camera footage, Azalea passed out cold. "Azalea!" he shouted in panic.

Without sparing Sydney another glance, he rushed to her side and lifted her into his arms. Then he turned to Wesley and said coldly, "Dad, I think we should check the security footage."

When Azalea came to, the sharp scent of antiseptic filled her nose. The harsh overhead lights blurred into one another, and it took her a moment to gather her bearings.

A hospital?

"Azalea, you're finally awake!"

She turned her head and saw Bastian looking at her with undisguised joy. Just past him stood her so-called father, Wesley. And by the door, Matthias had an arm around Sydney, glancing over occasionally.

The irony wasn't lost on her. She was fine—shouldn't they be disappointed?

When Azalea didn't respond, Bastian's smile faltered slightly, his eyes dimming. But he quickly covered it up with that soft, gentle smile.

The same smile he'd only ever shown Sydney these past two years.

And now he was offering it to her? What for—sympathy? Because she'd ended up in the hospital?

She didn't need it.

Azalea ducked away from his outstretched hand and pushed herself upright. "If you're here to tell me to apologize to Sydney, don't waste your breath."

Bastian froze. His brows furrowed just slightly. Since when did Azalea speak to him like this?

Matthias immediately bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Wesley didn't say anything, but the disapproval in his eyes said plenty.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Azalea said, her voice hoarse.

Her pale face shut Matthias right up. Bastian tried to smooth things over. "We checked the security footage while you were unconscious. Sydney slipped and fell—no one pushed her. Matthias and I jumped to conclusions.

"Sydney panicked and thought you pushed her. It was a misunderstanding. Dad has already agreed not to revoke your inheritance rights."

Wesley nodded from the side. "It was just a minor incident. If it was a misunderstanding, then it's over. You should rest. Sydney needs peace and quiet—we'll take her home first."

After pondering the meaning behind their words, Azalea nearly laughed out loud. Sydney slipped, but without any witnesses or physical evidence, they could confidently claim it was Azalea's fault. With the roles reversed, even with evidence, it would just be brushed off as Sydney being careless.

And now, just because they gave back what should've been hers to begin with, she was supposed to be grateful?

Sorry, not this time.

"So Sydney doesn't need to apologize to me?" Azalea asked, eyes downcast.

Matthias' pupils narrowed. He jabbed a finger at her, face livid. "Azalea, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you even know that after you fell unconscious, Sydney was so worried she refused to rest and stayed here the whole time waiting for you to wake up!"

"Matthias, this was all my fault to begin with. I should be the one apologizing," Sydney tugged gently on his sleeve. Her voice was soft, and her lips trembled with guilt. It was such a pitiful sight.

Wesley's expression darkened. "Azalea, enough already," he said, the threat heavy in his tone.

Bastian tried to smooth things over again. "Azalea, you just woke up. You need to rest. Let's not drag this out. It's over."

Drag this out?

Azalea nearly laughed in disbelief.

She scanned the room. Matthias had told her to go die without even hearing her side. Even now, with the truth laid bare, he still acted like she deserved it.

Her father saw her asking for an apology as being difficult and unreasonable.

Even Bastian, the one who seemed to want to protect her, was only trying to smooth things over—not for her but to avoid conflict.

As for Sydney, she played the remorseful little angel, pretending to apologize with zero actual action to back it up.

Before the age of 15, Azalea had dreamed that her real family would come to take her home. And they did—but every ounce of suffering since then had come from these people.

Under the weight of their favoritism, she had lived like a sewer rat—hiding, scrounging, and watching others enjoy the warmth she could never have.

From the beginning, her parents believed that she was full of bad habits because she came from an orphanage. Every small mistake she made was amplified to the extreme.

Cassius saw her as a reminder of past regrets, using the excuse of 'compensation' to control her life. The moment she pushed back, it proved she was ungrateful.

Matthias believed from the start that she'd stolen Sydney's place and never looked at her with anything but disdain.

Skyler thought she was beneath the family. When she first returned, he treated her like a novelty pet. But once the novelty wore off, she became a blemish on his glorious future—a stain that didn't deserve to be his sister.

Even Bastian, who had once truly cared for her, had, bit by bit, been swayed by Sydney's manipulations until his view of her turned cold and narrow.

Maybe the real mistake was stepping out of that orphanage in the first place.

She took a deep breath. What was the point of keeping a family like this around?

"It's our fault," Sydney said gently, "Azalea just woke up. She needs to rest. We shouldn't disturb her. Matthias, don't forget to have Harper make her favorite seafood soup."

Azalea gave her a sidelong glance. Favorite seafood soup? She was allergic.

Sydney really knew how to put on a show. No wonder she'd managed to worm her way into everyone's hearts, especially when they were most burdened by guilt.

If not for being reborn, Azalea might have really believed this whole thing was a misunderstanding. She might have been touched by Sydney's supposed concern.

Sydney wanted to drive her out for one reason: to secure her grip on the Larks' inheritance and make herself the star everyone revolved around.

Matthias smiled indulgently at Sydney's words, patting her head like she was the most precious thing in the world. "Sydney really is the kindest."

Then he turned and glared at Azalea. "We'll let it go this time. But if you ever bully Sydney again, I won't let it slide."

Azalea's tone was icy. "No need to wait for next time."

She reached for the paper and pen by her bedside in the VIP hospital room and quickly scribbled down a few lines.

Bastian glanced over curiously, but his face changed as soon as he caught a glimpse. "Azalea!"

Azalea ignored him and handed the paper directly to Wesley. "I've never really been part of this family, but I figured we should have something in writing to make it official."

Wesley took the paper and scanned it. His expression froze—then turned furious. "Azalea, are you out of your mind? You want to sever ties with me?!"

"I've never been clearer," Azalea said calmly. "You never made me part of the family. I never took your surname. Technically, I was never a Lark to begin with.

"You've all made it clear I'm not welcome. Let's just end this cleanly."

Wesley's chest rose and fell angrily, fingers clenched tightly around the paper. How dare she!

Sydney peeked at the document. The bold title—Agreement to Dissolve Parental Ties—made her heart leap. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and she barely managed to hide it.

If Azalea left the Larks, everything would be hers!

Still, she put on a sad face. "Azalea, this will really break Dad's heart."

Azalea didn't even look at her. Her gaze remained fixed on Wesley. "Please sign it, Mr. Lark."

Matthias gave a cold laugh. "You think that'll make us feel sorry for you? Make us regret how we treated you? You're just making a fool of yourself."

Wesley's teeth gnashed together. "Fine!"

So what if he was the president of Lark Group? His own daughter was throwing his name in the dirt.

Did she want to cut ties? He'd gladly oblige.

He signed without hesitation. Let's see what kind of mess she'd make of her life now.

Azalea took the paper like it was a treasure, carefully folding it. "Thank you, Mr. Lark."

The words were genuine. And they hit Wesley like a rock on the chest for some reason. His heart clenched, a tight, burning fury rising within. "If you're no longer a member of the Larks, then this room isn't yours to stay in," he snapped.

He thought she'd back down. That she was just bluffing. But Azalea didn't flinch. She pulled the IV from her hand, threw off the blanket, and climbed out of bed without a second thought.

Wesley's face darkened completely.

He shouted after her, "Don't come crawling back!"

Sydney rushed to his side, cooing, "Dad, calm down—you'll hurt yourself."

Her concern for her adoptive father was far more genuine than anything she'd ever shown Azalea. Wesley was clearly moved. Deliberately, he said, "Didn't you want to try that new five-star restaurant? Let's go tonight—to celebrate."

Celebrate what? No one had to say it.

Azalea paused at the doorway, then turned back with a cold smile. "Mr. Lark, do you even know that I'm allergic to seafood?"

The whole room fell dead silent.

Now that she had completely severed ties with the Larks, Azalea no longer intended to live under their roof.

It was empty when she returned to the Larks' residence by taxi. Azalea went straight to her room and pulled out an old, worn-out suitcase from the corner.

She packed everything she had brought from the orphanage, then dug out a bank card hidden under the bed.

There were 3,000 dollars on the card—a living allowance that 'Mr. Quinn', one of the orphanage's investors, had transferred to her the month she left. She later explained that she no longer needed financial help and that the investor hadn't asked for the money back. Who would've thought that, in the end, this money gave her the means to leave the Larks behind?

Once everything was packed, Azalea even changed into one of her old orphanage outfits.

She hadn't grown much, thanks to years of malnourishment at the Larks. Otherwise, the clothes wouldn't have fit her anymore.

With a self-deprecating smile, she hoisted the suitcase and left the room. As she was heading toward the front gate, she ran into Harper.

Harper's heart sank. Ms. Azalea's look right now, was she running away?

With her luggage and ID in hand, Azalea took a bus to Grey Hollow of Draywick. Real estate in the city was ridiculously expensive—only the suburbs offered short-term rentals at prices she could afford.

It didn't take long for her to spend 1,000 dollars renting a tiny room.

It was small, but it had everything she needed.

Back at the Larks' residence.

Sydney was surrounded by a crowd as she walked in, like a princess adored by her knights.

Harper hesitated for a moment but still stepped forward. "Mr. Lark, Ms. Azalea came back earlier. She packed a suitcase and left. She hasn't returned since."

"What?" Wesley's expression darkened. He frowned, uneasy. Could Azalea really be serious about cutting ties?

Matthias crossed his arms and snorted. "All this talk about severing ties and storming off—does she really think she can scare us into begging her to come back? What a joke. I bet she'll come crawling back in less than three days.

"And when she does, she'll need to be taught a lesson."

Wesley scoffed. "When she comes begging, I'll make sure she regrets ever leaving!"

Sydney listened to all of this with delight, though her expression was demure. In a gentle voice, she said, "Still, maybe someone should go check. It'd be bad if something happened to her."

Her sweet concern only made the rest of the family feel that Azalea was ungrateful and immature. They began consoling Sydney, saying there was no need to worry about Azalea—she was an adult. It's not like she'd die out there.

Only Bastian clenched his hands tightly, eyes filled with worry. With no money, where could Azalea possibly go?

Azalea cleaned the room, laid out new bedding, and felt a rare sense of contentment.

This place was nothing compared to the lavishness of the Larks' residence, but she felt safe for the first time in a long time.

No more walking on eggshells, no more watching her words or worrying that she'd be tossed out for upsetting someone. She could finally breathe.

Next up is studying, earning money, and getting her health back.

There was one year left until the college admissions test. In her senior year, schools began reviewing material from her first year so she could keep up completely by self-studying alongside the curriculum.

Azalea was confident she could do it.

As for her health, because the Larks doted on Sydney, who had a congenital heart condition, they didn't want Azalea to look too lively and possibly upset her. So they'd had a nutritionist plan her meals to limit her energy.

Frequent small meals, never enough to feel full. She was always weak and sluggish—but her 'nutritional balance' was maintained.

That was the theory, anyway. In reality, no one in the family checked to see if Azalea was getting proper meals. The servants made sure she didn't eat anything extra on the side.

The most pathetic part? Even when she was starving, she'd learned to make stomach-soothing meals just to feed Matthias when he skipped meals due to being too focused on his experiments.

His stomach was well taken care of. As for hers? No one gave a damn.

"Now that I've left early, as long as I earn enough, I can use my past life's pharmacology knowledge to fix my health," Azalea muttered, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

She was thinner than ever—even skinnier than when she lived at the orphanage. Her chin was sharp, with not a trace of fat left. Her height had stayed the same for the past three years: 5'4".

"If I want to keep studying while earning money quickly ... " She frowned, deep in thought. "There's only one way."

In her past life, several games had been officially added to the Olympics, and esports had exploded in popularity.

Investing in a team was like printing money.

Bastian's Anexis team had taken that chance to transform into a full-blown esports club, creating a legend.

With the rise of streaming, they became the first to launch a live-stream platform and spearheaded the short-form video industry.

Azalea's plan was to get in early—no matter how things changed, internet-related industries would always be eternal.

The hottest 5v5 competitive game, Glory League, is in the middle of its fall championship. Bastian's Anexis team was facing off against a dark horse five-man rookie team, GOD.

But GOD's mid-laner had dropped out due to a hand injury, and the team scrambled to find a replacement across the entire game community.

This was her chance.

She could earn prize money, invest it back, and go from player to owner. Why not?

Fueled by the idea, Azalea was filled with energy.

Over the next two days, she familiarized herself with the area. Her schedule was tight and simple: three fixed points—grocery shopping to restore her health, nighttime gaming at the gaming cafés, and studying the rest of the time.

The night before the new semester started, she went to bed early to ensure she had enough energy for the first day.

She didn't know that the school's forum had already exploded because of her.

A gossip post had gone viral—claiming the Larks' 'real and fake daughters' were now rivals in a battle for inheritance. With outlandish headlines like "Jealousy Pushes Girl Downstairs" and "Banished from Home," bored students flooded the post with comments, pushing it to the top right before school began.

Just like that, Azalea's name became infamous at Draywick High School.

Azalea took the bus to school and first stopped by the art prep class she used to attend to complete her withdrawal.

The art class was pretty lax, and with the semester just starting, the building was noisy as she climbed the stairs.

"Oh my god, Sydney, are you saying you're attending that special training camp at Jubilee for the rest of the semester? You actually got that spot?"

"Tch, do you even need to ask? Sydney's not just anyone—getting a spot like that is no easy feat."

"Oh, stop flattering me. I just got lucky," Sydney said. Even without seeing her, Azalea could picture the scene clearly. Sydney basking in praise, pretending to be modest while soaking up every compliment.

So fake it made her sick.

Between all the flattery, Azalea even caught the occasional jab at her.

She ignored all of it and walked straight in. The noisy room went dead silent.

Azalea walked up to the teacher without missing a beat, holding out her paperwork. "Can you sign this for me, please?"

"You're really transferring to academic classes?"

"Yeah." The teacher didn't press further; she just signed her form and crossed her name off the list.

Just a few brief words and the crowd finally registered what was happening.

"Is Azalea seriously switching to academic class now? Was getting kicked out of the Larks that traumatic? Has she lost her mind?"

"Maybe she couldn't stand studying the same thing as Sydney anymore. Rather than keep embarrassing herself, she figured she'd just quit and leave."

All the muttering buzzed around her ears. Azalea couldn't care less.

Just as she was about to leave, Sydney suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Azalea, stop messing around, okay? This isn't the way if you're doing this just to get our parents' and brothers' attention. Don't throw your future away like this."

She looked so disappointed as if she were scolding a child for their own good.

Her words clicked with the others—so that's what this was! Azalea just wanted sympathy!