He Chose the So-Called Sister Free Preview

Sherry Bode was rubbing her throbbing temple when Gilbert Bode's voice cut through the hall. "Sherry, Wendy's been in an accident. You're the same blood type. Hurry up and donate blood to her!"

She had just stepped out of the ward next door, still unsteady. "Gilbert, I passed out from anemia. I just came to..."

Gilbert's eyes darkened with rage. "You faint at the perfect time, don't you? Not before, not after—just when Wendy needs you. Stop the act, Sherry."

He grabbed her arm and pushed her into the donation room. "Draw 700 milliliters. For Room 502. Now," he told the nurse.

The nurse hesitated. "Mr. Bode, we can't take that much. 400 milliliters is the limit. And she... she looks pale already."

Gilbert's phone kept buzzing. His voice got sharper. "Who matters more—someone low on blood, or someone who might die?"

The nurse flinched and started the draw.

Sherry's head spun worse than before. "Gilbert, please... I'm so dizzy. Stop this."

Gilbert was already wound tight with tension over Wendy Mack's condition. "Dizzy? From a little blood? If you're going to fake it, at least put some effort in."

She bit her lip until it stung, fighting to stay conscious. "I really am anemic. I shouldn't be donating..."

He gave a cold laugh. "Shouldn't? Or just unwilling? You're always picking on Wendy, but now this is a matter of life and death! How did you become so heartless!"

As soon as the bag was full, he snatched it and turned to leave. She caught his sleeve weakly. "Gilbert... I'm freezing. I feel like I'm dying..."

He shouted right in her face, "You're still looking for attention now? Sherry, you're such a bummer."

He pulled his arm away hard.

She lost her balance. Her head hit the tile floor with a crack, and everything went black.

Wendy and Sherry were rushed to emergency treatment at the same time.

Wendy came out first. "Gilbert, Sherry donated so much for me. Will she be mad again? I'll give the blood back to her right now."

Gilbert felt a simmering irritation. The Bode family had a full nutrition team. Sherry had the best food, the best care. How anemic could she be?

They could build her blood back later, couldn't they?

Why did she have to be so dramatic?

He put a hand on Wendy's shoulder and softened his tone. "An adult shouldn't act like this. She's faking. I wish she had half your sense."

When they brought Sherry out, she just heard their talk. Her hands were clenched.

Her heart ached more than her body.

Five years of marriage—back when the Bode family was still struggling. He worked day and night, always sick, never seeing a doctor.

She learned enough to be his part-time nurse and cook.

But one call from Wendy in the night, and he was gone. If the lights went out while she was cooking, he'd leave her in the dark and run to Wendy.

When she complained, he called her "difficult."

So she learned to keep quiet.

When they went hiking to watch the sunrise together, in the end, she was left alone halfway up the mountain.

Or when a sudden downpour hit at the seaside, they walked back under a single umbrella, while she ran behind them like a drowned rat.

Even on the highway, a single call from Wendy was enough for him to immediately pull over and leave her behind.

And all she got in return was that same label—difficult.

The Bode family's nursing home was built for the Bode family's patriarch.

But Gilbert moved Wendy in to recover.

She slipped her arm through his. "Gilbert, it's so beautiful here. Let's just stay—you and me."

Gilbert gently pulled away. "Wendy, I have to go back. Sherry's not well. She needs care too."

Wendy lifted her pale face, looking very sensible. "Okay. I'll walk you out."

But outside—

Wendy suddenly stumbled. She looked at Sherry with wide, scared eyes. "Sherry, I'm sorry! I'm only staying here 'cause I got hurt. I didn't mean to take your place. I'll pack and go, I promise!"

She scurried off like a scared little rabbit.

Gilbert grabbed Sherry by the back of her neck. "You're already Mrs. Bode. Wendy's just a sister to me who needs help. Why do you keep hurting her?"

"I didn't push her!"

He didn't listen. "Wendy, you're staying," he said firmly. "No one's making you leave."

Then he came to comfort Wendy.

Then he turned to Sherry. "Since you're so tough, find your own way back."

He drove off, leaving her alone in that desolate nursing home.

Wendy came back, her face now cool and proud. "Sherry, Gilbert doesn't love you. He only loves me. Why are you still holding onto that Mrs. Bode title? Have some shame."

She wasn't wrong.

In Gilbert's heart, Sherry had no place.

Nothing she did could ever compete with one of Wendy's tears.

Her chest hurt, a dull and steady throb.

But it was getting dark. She had to go. She turned to a staff member. "Could someone drive me to—"

"No." Wendy crossed her arms. "I'm the boss around here. Gilbert listens to me. Let's see who dares help her!"

The staff member gave an apologetic look. "Sorry... we did receive the notice to follow Ms. Mack's orders, so..."

So the real wife meant less than the "little sister" he loved.

Sherry laughed bitterly.

On the way back, the sky opened up. A light rain became a downpour.

Her health hadn't fully recovered to begin with, and her vision gradually blurred. Something hit her face—she couldn't tell if it was tears or rain streaming down.

All she knew was the pain. So much pain. Until her legs gave out, and she fell.

When she woke up—

"Sherry, are you stupid?" Gilbert's voice was tense, his face showing real worry for once. It made something ache deep in her chest. "There were staff everywhere. You should've asked for a ride!"

"Wendy wouldn't let them," she whispered.

Gilbert frowned and looked over at Wendy.

Wendy's tears came instantly. "Sherry, why are you lying? I told them to take you home! You refused!

"So you fainted just to make me look bad! To turn Gilbert against me! I've done nothing to you. Why do you keep coming after me?"

Hot anger shot through Sherry. "You're lying! They said they had to listen to you and refused to send me off!"

"Gilbert, if you don't believe me, I'll kill myself right now!"

She ran toward the wall and threw herself right into Gilbert's arms.

He held her tightly, like she was everything. "I believe you," he said, his voice sure.

In that moment, Sherry felt something inside her break. She let out a dry, hollow laugh. She'd forgotten—against Wendy, she never stood a chance.

Seeing the worry on his face, a stupid little hope flickered in her chest.

She took a slow breath and met his eyes.

"Gilbert," she said, her voice clear and steady. "If you walk out that door today, we're done."

Sherry's eyes held a glimmer of hope, but also a hard, new resolve. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the blanket.

Lately, ever since she became "Mrs. Bode", she'd been getting too bold. He wouldn't put up with this kind of behavior.

Gilbert's brow furrowed. His voice was cold and flat. "Do what you want."

He didn't even pause to think.

Curled in Gilbert's arms, Wendy shot Sherry a smug smile, mocking her for overestimating herself to say such a thing.

Gilbert was the one who gave Wendy the power to mock her.

All the color drained from Sherry's face. She pressed a hand to her chest as hot tears spilled over.

She wiped them away and left the hospital alone.

Back at the house, everything was cold and dark. Gilbert was picky, so they'd never hired a nanny. Sherry had always done all the housework herself.

After a long, exhausting day at the hospital, her body ached. She was starving. But in the home that was supposed to be hers, there wasn't even a warm meal waiting.

She forced herself to cook through the hunger. She had just put the food on the table when Gilbert walked in.

He went straight to the dining room, looked at the meal, and scowled. His voice was like frost. "Sherry! You know Wendy likes broth. She hates chicken soup. You did this on purpose, didn't you?

"Wendy's upset because of you. She hasn't eaten all night. How can you sit here and eat? Go make something else for her. Now!"

The last thread of her patience snapped. "Why should I cook for Wendy? Am I her nanny? Or do you think I'm so worthless I should cook for your other woman?"

"Sherry! How dare you talk about Wendy like that! There's nothing between us, and you're still spreading rumors. Don't you know how much harm dirty rumors can do to a woman? Are you even human?"

Gilbert slammed his hand on the table and roared.

He directly knocked over the dinner she'd slaved over. Boiling hot soup splashed across the floor, scalding her leg. The pain was sharp and searing.

Gilbert didn't even glance back and walked out.

Right after that, he updated his Facebook—something he hadn't been willing to do in ten years.

A picture of Gilbert, wearing an apron, cooking.

She never knew he could cook.

His friends were shocked, flooding the comments.

"Wow, Gilbert, what a good man! Cooking for Sherry?"

Wendy replied, "It's for me!"

"Makes sense. He really spoils you!"

Sherry gripped her phone until her knuckles ached. She remembered once when she was sick, Gilbert had only brought her a plain bowl of oatmeal.

The difference between love and no love couldn't be clearer. And now she saw it.

But damn, it hurt.

Gilbert texted her, "Sherry, if you come over and apologize to Wendy, we can forget this. Otherwise, don't expect me home."

She hadn't done anything wrong. Why should she apologize?

Why would Gilbert never believe her?

Gilbert wasn't just the man she'd loved for five years—he was the one who'd pulled her out of her darkest time. She'd always been grateful.

Now she was just tired.

She didn't reply.

So Gilbert didn't come home at all.

Sherry sat awake through the night. When morning came, she started packing. She realized she had almost nothing that was truly hers. She'd given her whole heart to Gilbert. She hadn't even bought herself a nice dress.

It didn't take long to pack.

She was coming down the stairs when she ran into Gilbert's cousin, Cathy Bode.

"Well, well. Where's the stray dog off to now? Don't tell me you're moving into Gilbert's office to stalk him. You really have no shame."

Cathy's parents had died young, so she lived with the Bode family.

After Sherry and Gilbert married, they moved into their own place.

But every time Gilbert came back to his family home, Cathy would follow him back to their house. She always showed up whenever Sherry and Gilbert were getting close—then acted like it was an accident.

Sometimes she even tried to squeeze into their bed.

If Sherry ever dared to lock the door early to keep her out, the next morning, Cathy would burst in, point a finger in Sherry's face, and yell, "Shameless! Always trying to seduce a man!"

Sherry had tried to talk to Gilbert about it.

He just got angry and shouted, "How could a girl like Cathy have any ill intentions?"

He said Sherry's mind was disgusting.

For years, she put up with it. Because Cathy was younger. Because Gilbert told her to be tolerant. She kept her head down and endured.

Now that she was leaving, she wouldn't.

"First time I've heard that being close to your own husband is 'seducing' him. If you have some twisted crush on Gilbert, I hope you make the news the day you cross that line."

Cathy was eighteen. She knew exactly what she was doing. Her face turned bright red. "You! You're disgusting!"

"Not as disgusting as your actions."

Sherry, who always held back, was suddenly fighting back. Cathy, who bullied the weak and feared the strong, stiffened her neck. "How dare you talk to me like that! I'll tell Gilbert. He'll put you in your place!"

"Get out of my way. And tell him to get the divorce papers ready."

Cathy froze. "You're finally divorcing him? About time you got out of here, you scumbag! Get lost, and don't you dare crawl back!"

"You think I want to stay in this madhouse? Listen—even if Gilbert begged, I wouldn't come back."

The front door slammed shut.

Three whole days passed.

Gilbert stayed with Wendy the entire time.

He was doing it on purpose.

Sherry had been getting way too out of line lately. He'd told her a hundred times—Wendy was just a sister to him. Ignoring her now would teach her a lesson.

She needed to learn that throwing tantrums with him was useless.

On the fourth day, he finally went back to the villa.

"Sherry, I'm eating at home tonight."

Usually, when she heard that, Sherry's face would light up. She'd buzz around him, planning the menu. Even the way she moved while cooking looked happy.

She must love cooking for him.

So today, he'd let her cook again. He'd give her a reason to smile—throw her a bone.

But only the echo of his own voice answered.

Not just that—the table was dusty.

Gilbert's handsome face tightened. "Sherry, you know I hate mess. I can't stand dust. If you can't even keep the house clean, what else can you do?"

Still, only silence answered.

Gilbert thought Sherry was still sulking. She didn't even care about the house anymore.

Getting arrogant because she felt spoiled—she needed a reality check.

He made a call. "Find out where Sherry is."

Then his lips curved into a cold smile. "She actually had the nerve to run away from home."

*****

"You're not here to prep for an interview, are you?"

The voice dripping with mockery belonged to Jean Mello, Gilbert's right-hand woman.

She stood with her arms crossed, looking Sherry up and down with pure contempt.

That was her usual way.

In Jean's eyes, Sherry wasn't good enough for Gilbert. She'd been clinging to him for years—completely shameless.

Back when Sherry loved Gilbert, she'd tried to win Jean over. Jean had only ever given her cold stares and sharp words.

Now that Sherry wouldn't even put up with Gilbert, why would she put up with Jean? "Where I go is none of your business. If you're that bored, go fight someone for discount groceries."

The old Sherry would never have talked back like that.

Jean's face hardened with anger. "None of my business? A nobody housewife going to job interviews—you're embarrassing Mr. Bode! You'll drag the whole Bode name through the dirt!"

"Since when does the Bode family's reputation depend on a Mello? Are you his other woman or something?"

Jean was so angry she nearly exploded. She wanted to curse Sherry out right there.

But Sherry had already walked into the interview room.

To keep up appearances, Jean forced herself to hold back her anger. Since when did Sherry become so sharp-tongued? She decided she would report this to Gilbert later.

He'd teach that woman not to mess with her again.

Inside the room, Gilbert sat at the head of the table. The atmosphere was so tense no one dared to breathe too loudly.

Sherry had deliberately chosen a company with no connection to the Bode family.

Even when she took her seat, Gilbert didn't look at her.

But the interviewer's face was full of open contempt.

"What makes you think you're better than a fresh graduate? You only have one pitiful year of work experience.

"No offense, but women like you—married for years and now trying to restart your career—are basically useless. You bring nothing to a company. Your real job is to have kids, serve your husband, and run a household. That's what you're meant to do."

The insult was direct and humiliating. A few others in the room almost laughed.

Gilbert let out a cold snort and didn't bother to stop the man.

Sherry stood up abruptly. "This old man that needs serving—you've got me thinking about a new job angle. After marriage, I've basically been serving a pig. Maybe I should apply to work in postnatal care for sows. That would suit me perfectly."

At the words "postnatal care for sows," the smirks in the room froze.

Even Gilbert's usually stone-cold expression almost cracked.

She'd just called all the men in the room pigs—and not just pigs, but delicate sows in need of special care.

The interviewer, his pride wounded, snapped, "Who are you talking about? Am I wrong?"

"I'm talking about you. Your mom served you when you were a kid. Your wife serves you now. You're a lifelong baby who never grew up. Come talk to me when you've taken off your diaper."

She'd said what she wanted. She turned to leave.

Humiliated in front of everyone, the interviewer lost his temper completely. "You b*tch, I'll beat you dead!"

Gilbert kicked him back with one sharp motion, his eyes cold and dangerous. "You have a death wish?"

Those few words were enough. The man's anger vanished, replaced by fear. He stumbled back several steps, as if he'd just escaped something deadly.

Sherry was still fuming as she walked toward the exit. This world is full of clowns.

She hadn't even reached the door when Gilbert scooped her up and started carrying her toward his car. "Since when did you get so clever with that mouth?"

In his memory, Sherry was always quiet—easy to talk to, always agreeable, never showing any temper.

Today, she'd completely surprised him.

"Put me down!"

Sherry glared and struggled in his arms.

At 6'2", he easily placed her into the passenger seat.

The moment she was in the car, Sherry tried to jump back out.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at her quick movement. "We're in the middle of nowhere. You want to walk home?"

"This car is disgusting. I'm not sitting in it."

After she got her license, she'd never been allowed in his passenger seat again.

He liked everything perfectly clean. His cars were always spotless inside.

Once, Sherry had wanted to hang a small good-luck charm in his car. Gilbert had scolded her on the spot. "You're not a child anymore. Hanging silly things? So embarrassing!"

The charm she'd worked so hard to get was thrown out like trash.

Now the whole car was covered in cute stickers.

Right up front was someone's exclusive seat.

There was a water bottle, a personal pill case, and even a pack of pads.

Everything was thoughtfully placed.

And it felt like a slap in the face.

She used to think that getting one lipstick into his car meant she was special. People told her she must really have a place in his heart.

Now, seeing a whole row of lipsticks, she realized how foolish she'd been.

No wonder he'd pushed her to get a license. Once she could drive herself, he could make space for Wendy.

Gilbert actually tried to explain. "Wendy is too delicate to learn how to drive. She's missed out on a lot, so I let her—"

Sherry cut him off. "Do what you want. I've already asked for a divorce. Even if she moves into the master bedroom, I don't care. If you have time now, let's just get it over with."

"Sherry, stop talking nonsense. Wendy is like a sister to me. Don't speak about her that way."

So he was worried about people gossiping about Wendy.

"I don't care if she's your real sister or your sweet sister. I'm done. I want a divorce." She finished speaking and got out of the car.

Gilbert pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't understand how the gentle, obedient Sherry had become like this.

She had barely stepped out when she saw Jean glaring at her.

Gilbert took Sherry's arm and told Jean, "Get rid of this car. Send another one with a driver.

"I'll destroy this car. Can you stop making a scene now? Hmm?"

Did he really think the problem was just a car?

Jean frowned. "Mr. Bode, this is the only car that doesn't make Wendy carsick. You can't destroy it just because Ms. Campbell is throwing a fit. You know how sick she gets in other cars.

"Ms. Campbell, don't make everyone suffer for your tantrum."

Sherry had only wanted to leave, not deal with them. But hearing that, she remembered all the little cruelties Jean had put her through. "Do as you're told. You're just an assistant. Are you trying to threaten me?"

"I'm not!" Jean was cursing Sherry inwardly but didn't dare show it in front of Gilbert. "Mr. Bode, I'm only thinking of Wendy. Think of how much she suffers..."

Gilbert pictured Wendy's pale face in other cars and softened. "Sherry, I'll buy you a new car. You can put whatever you want in it."

Sherry gave a snort.

Of course, Wendy came first.

And for a moment, Sherry had actually thought he would destroy the car for her.

She shook off Gilbert's hand, her eyes cold. "Get lost. I don't want to see you again."

She walked away without looking back.

Jean puffed up, looking proud and smug. So what if she's Mrs. Bode? She still can't compare to an assistant like me. "Ms. Campbell is completely spoiled by you. She's out of control. Telling you to get lost—she should know her place..."

Then she felt a chill down her spine.

Gilbert's icy gaze settled on her like he was looking at a corpse.

Sweat broke out on Jean's forehead. She trembled. I thought he didn't care about that woman?

"Bad-mouth Sherry again, and you're finished."

One look from him was enough to make her legs shake.

Even after he had been gone a while, Jean was still wiping sweat from her brow.

Shaken and furious, she started cursing Sherry again. "Who does she think she is, acting all high and mighty in front of Mr. Bode?

"I've done nothing wrong. Sherry isn't even worth a strand of my hair. How could someone like her be Mrs. Bode?

"She doesn't deserve it at all."

Gilbert drove away, his mind elsewhere.

Wendy just put some stickers in the car without asking Sherry. So what? She's young and doesn't know better. Should Sherry really be making such a big deal out of this?

His phone rang. It was Wendy, her voice sweet as honey.

"Gilbert, Jean already told me everything. Please don't be angry with her. She was just thinking of me. Just... just smash the car, okay? If it makes Sherry happy, I won't go out anymore."

After hearing that, how could he possibly get rid of the car? Besides, it really was just a car.

"Don't worry. I won't touch the car."

A small smile touched Wendy's lips.

Does that bitch Sherry think she can win by making a scene? Too bad for her. All I have to do is call Gilbert's name softly, and he feels sorry for me.

"From now on, I'll arrange a driver for you," Gilbert said.

The smile vanished from Wendy's face. She went pale. "Did... did Sherry talk trash about me? I didn't do anything! If she doesn't like all my things in your car, she can throw them. She can treat me however she wants. But I only trust your driving. I'm only hogging one car seat, that's all. And now... now Sherry wants to take even that away from me?"

Gilbert felt a twist of discomfort in his chest. "Sherry has never been that kind of person."

Wendy's expression tightened, though her voice remained fragile. "I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm scared of losing you, Gilbert. You're all I have here."

The discomfort in Gilbert faded. He softened his voice. "Don't worry. I'll always take care of you."

Then he hung up.

Wendy gripped her phone, her eyes flashing with something dark.

That little slut. How dare she fight back! I'll make sure Gilbert is mine, and I'll make Sherry beg and cry.

*****

Gilbert kept trampling over her feelings, again and again. It was a good thing she already knew he would never choose her over that car.

But seeing Jean's smug face still made her blood boil.

Humiliating her in public like that—it was clear he'd never really seen her as his wife.

It was almost funny now, how she'd once believed that given enough time, they could be happy together.

Now it seemed like it had been nothing but a waste of her own time—totally meaningless.

Sherry let out a bitter laugh.

When she got back to her rented apartment, she found her belongings dumped outside.

"What are you doing?"

This time, it was Gilbert's right-hand man, Scott Wood.

"Mrs. Bode," Scott said, "Mr. Bode ordered us to move your things back."

Move them back?

Thinking of what had just happened, a cold smile curved her lips.

"Stop!" she snapped at the movers. "Tell him that I'm not coming back unless he's ready to sign the divorce papers."

Scott saw the anger in her eyes. It seemed that this runaway from home wasn't just a trick.

But he still didn't believe she would really leave Gilbert. Everyone knew how deeply she loved him.

"This is Mr. Bode's order," Scott said firmly. "I can't disobey him."

They outnumbered her. There was no way she could stop them by force.

"Fine," Sherry said. "Take them all back. Consider them gifts from me." She grabbed her purse and ID and turned to leave.

Scott was stunned.

If she wouldn't go back, what was the point of her things?

He had no choice but to call Gilbert.

*****

Sherry had just reached a hotel and hadn't even checked in when her phone rang insistently.

"Sherry, it's bad. Your father... he's sick!"

She rushed back to the urban area that very night and ran all the way home.

There, she found her father lying on the couch in the second-floor living room. Her mother, Claire Campbell, saw her come in and immediately swung her hand, slapping Sherry hard across the face.

The blow was so sharp her left ear rang.

"Sherry! Are you trying to drive us mad? You and Gilbert were fine! Why are you causing trouble? A divorce? How dare you!

"Look at yourself. Gilbert choosing you was a moment of madness. He's come to his senses now. You should be holding onto him for dear life. If he really divorces you, you'll be begging on the streets. Don't think there's a place for you here in the Campbell Villa!"

"Mom!" Teresa Campbell rushed over. "Did you hurt your hand?"

Then she shot Sherry a sharp, accusing look. "Sherry, even if you're Mom's real daughter, you can't upset her like this. And you're just standing there, not even caring about her. How can you be so heartless? It breaks my heart to watch, and I'm not even family."

Claire's eyes softened. "Teresa, don't say that. You are part of this family. You're my real daughter. Not like certain family—they're worse than a stranger off the street."

Sherry's oldest brother, Edward Campbell, rattled his newspaper. "Hah. She's just holding a grudge. Mom sent you to that martial arts school when you were little for your health. But you've held a grudge all this time—you heartless, selfish jerk."

When Sherry was very young, Claire had listened to a so-called friend and sent her to a martial arts school run by that friend.

It turned out the woman hated Claire, and everyone at the school—from the teachers to the students—bullied and ignored Sherry. She learned nothing and fell into a deep depression.

When Claire found out, she was furious and cut ties. But then she listened to someone else's advice.

Sherry had three older brothers, but none of them understood a young girl's heart.

They thought finding Sherry a "little sister" would cheer her up and pull her out of her sadness.

That was when Teresa won everyone over. And then Claire didn't feel guilty at all.

Teresa quietly fed them the idea that Sherry wasn't really sick—she was just making herself miserable and dragging the whole family down with her.

At first, everyone focused on Sherry. Then, slowly, they started taking Teresa's side. Next to Teresa's sweet and caring act, Sherry looked like a spoiled, difficult girl.

Mental illness? All an act.

So "willful," "nasty," "ungrateful," and "scheming" became the labels they stuck on her.

Teresa, a girl from a mountain village, acted more like a lady than Sherry ever did. All the family's resources and attention poured onto Teresa.

Sherry became the one they cast aside.

Already struggling, she sank deeper into despair—until Gilbert pulled her out with one sentence. "You Campbell folks don't deserve to be Sherry's family."

After that, they were at least careful around her, at least on the surface.

Back then, she had been so happy. Finally, someone was on her side, no questions asked.

Gilbert had told her, "No matter what happens, you have me. If they don't love you, you don't have to go back."

Then Wendy appeared and shattered everything.

And today, he had sent her right back into this hell with his own hands.

Gilbert knew exactly how her family would treat her, and he did it anyway.

Sherry's head buzzed. Her nose should have stung with tears, but all she smelled was metal.

Blood poured out, hot and fast.

It splashed onto the expensive carpet of the Campbell Villa.

The sight of Sherry's nosebleed threw the room into chaos.

Claire glanced at her own hand, a brief shadow of guilt crossing her face.

But Teresa spoke first. "Sherry, you've always been weak. Nosebleeds happen to you all the time. Did you do all this just to make Mom feel guilty?"

Just like that, the atmosphere in the room changed completely.

"Still hopeless," her father, Joseph Campbell, said, sitting up. He looked perfectly healthy. His illness had been nothing but an act. They had lied to get her back here, just to put her in her place.

Teresa moved closer, still talking. "Sherry, you know I always say what I think. Don't be mad, okay? I'm only doing this for you—so you'll stop using these cheap tricks."

Then she reached out and tried to push Sherry.

This was Teresa's usual game—sweet on the outside, but always starting trouble. Even when she was the one pushing, Sherry would end up getting blamed.

Over time, Teresa had gone from acting shy to completely owning this house.

Even when she hurt someone, she always played the victim.

If Sherry got injured and ended up in the hospital, she'd still be the one who got yelled at.

Sure enough, the moment Teresa pushed her, she cried out, "Sherry, you're faking a fall. Ah!"

But this time, Sherry grabbed her arm and yanked her down hard. Teresa landed underneath her with a sharp cry.

Everyone who had been watching rushed over at once.

They shoved Sherry aside and crowded around Teresa, their faces full of worry.

Teresa's face was pale, tears streaming down. "Sherry, does pushing me down make you happy? If it does, I'd die for you."

Joseph snapped, "Sherry, are you really that cruel? Do you want your sister dead?"

Edward held Teresa, staring at Sherry with pure hatred. "Apologize now!"

Sherry's already broken heart felt twisted tight. Her fingers curled slowly.

She had endured so much pain that she had actually started to get used to it. After all, no one had ever truly loved her.

She had learned to hide every crack, every weak spot.

There was no one in this world she could really depend on.

Her face went cold. "Are you all having fun?

"Or are you deaf? When I fell, she clearly yelled I was going to fake a fall. If I really wanted to push her, would the 'clever' Teresa mess up her yell?

"I just made the fake fall real."

It made sense. The others glanced at Teresa, puzzled.

Teresa was so angry her face twisted. How dare this b*tch talk back?

Seems like she hasn't suffered enough. She still dares to come home. In this house, there's only room for one daughter—and that's me.

"Mom, Dad, thank you for taking care of me all this time. Since Sherry doesn't want me here, I'll go. I don't want to cause trouble between you over someone like me."

"Sherry! If you make Teresa leave, will you finally be hap—" Edward didn't get to finish.

Sherry cut him off. "Then let's call the police. We can check the security cameras and see what really happened."

Yes, she had pulled Teresa down—but the cameras would clearly show Teresa pushing her first.

Edward shook with anger. She still refused to apologize, even threatening to call the police? He was deeply disappointed. "With a character like yours, you should've been locked up long ago. You're worse than a criminal."

Teresa panicked. "I'm not going to the police station. Sherry, do you know how many times I went there when I got beaten up in that mountain village? That's where my nightmares started. You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? You don't want me to be okay."

Everyone's hearts softened with pity. Suddenly, calling the police seemed like a cruel idea.

"Why isn't Teresa my real daughter? I'd rather have a stranger's child than a heartless one like you! I'm the real sinner here!"

Claire started her usual drama, raising a hand like she was going to hit herself.

She always did this—just when Sherry was about to expose Teresa, Claire would turn it into a life-or-death performance.

Sherry used to feel sorry for her, scared she'd really hurt herself. She'd beg her to stop, and everything would get swept under the rug.

But was Claire really going to hurt herself?

This time, Sherry didn't cry or beg. She just watched, cold and silent.

She didn't say a word, even as Claire's hand hung in the air. The slap never landed.

Everyone stared at her.

Claire grew awkward, her hands fumbling, her face red.

Sherry suddenly laughed. "So you've been faking it all these years."

Claire's face darkened. She turned to Joseph, whining, "Honey, look at her. The more I see her, the more disgusting she is!"

"You too," Sherry said, lifting her chin. "The more I see you, the more you make me sick."

Every face in the room changed.

Sherry hated her own mother?

No way.

She was always the one begging to come back—wasn't she?

But Sherry was already walking out.

And she ran straight into her second brother, Bryan Campbell, who had just returned after getting a message.

He was one of the most intimidating people in the family.

He took one look at the two crying women and his eyes turned cold. "You dare lay a hand on Teresa?"

He reached out to grab Sherry by the throat.

She still remembered the last time—Teresa had claimed Sherry ruined her favorite dress, so to "teach her a lesson," Bryan locked Sherry in the basement for three days without food.

Teresa cried and said she was so upset she forgot to bring meals. She kept saying Sherry would hate her forever.

Sherry was starving, but Teresa cried harder than she did.

That day, Bryan's eyes were dark as he squeezed her throat, forcing an apology from her fading breath. He almost killed her.

She remembered it—all of it. The choking fear. It still made her freeze.

So when Bryan grabbed her neck again and she couldn't breathe, Sherry snatched the vase behind her and smashed it down hard.

Bryan collapsed. Sherry lost control, hitting him again and again.

Years of rage surged up. He had done far worse to her.

She grabbed anything she could and threw it at him. Blood splattered. Everyone else was terrified.

Usually, they were the ones hurting Sherry.

Usually, Sherry took it quietly.

How dare she fight back? And so viciously?

Then Gilbert showed up.

Tall and strong, with broad shoulders and a confident posture. His eyes were deep and arrogant. When his lips curved slightly, people fell for him easily.

Teresa was one of them.

It was too bad—she had once stripped and lay on Gilbert's bed, and he threw her out without a second thought.

She should have hated him, but he was more handsome than a movie star, and his status was undeniable.

Upon seeing him now, her eyes lit up. She pushed Edward aside and stumbled toward him. "Gilbert, Sherry went crazy. She started hitting me and our family for no reason. Maybe... maybe she just doesn't like me."

Gilbert frowned and grabbed Sherry's arm.

Sherry, still seeing red, shook him off. "Let go of me."

Gilbert pulled her away anyway. "Sherry, have you lost your mind? No matter what, he's your brother—your family. How could you hit him like that?"

Sherry almost exploded. "Where were you when he was hurting me?"

Gilbert hesitated. He didn't want things to go too far. "He's still your older brother. You're family."

Someone who did nothing but torture her counted as family?

How could Gilbert say that?

Sherry slapped him hard across the face. "Stop pretending to be the good guy.

"Weren't you the one who told them I wanted a divorce? You knew exactly how they would treat me, and you still told them. Now you want to play the good guy?"