Heroine Rebels, World Falls Apart

I had breast cancer. My father, the hospital head, performed the double mastectomy.

As the anesthesia faded, I overheard the assistant surgeon: Dr. Sterling actually did it. Lying to his daughter to appease his ward Her husband suggested it. Now she just has these bowl-sized scars.

My body shook. Once conscious, I scrambled up to confront them.

My husband Damon wrapped an arm around Celeste and smirked. "What's wrong? You always mocked Celeste for being frail. I guess youve learned your lesson."

I staggered forward, but my father shoved me back. "Stop making a scene. Celeste has had a hard life. Losing a bit of flesh is nothing."

Even my son Asher agreed: "He's right, Mom. The way you look now step aside for Aunt Celeste."

Then a dormant system woke in my mind:

Host, your mission was completed long ago! Initiate immediate death and return?

A relieved smile touched my lips.

So this whole "journey of salvation" was a lie. A sick joke.

Why should I care if they lived or died?

I confirmed instantly.

Upon death, all characters here will be erased three days after. Returning now. Reward: $700 million and a fully restored, healthy body in your world.

The thought of the reward was eclipsed by the sheer, ecstatic joy of finally going home.

I stumbled to my feet, awkwardly climbing onto the windowsill. Every movement sent waves of agony through my fresh sutures. I looked out at the glittering skyline of the city, at the thousands of lights twinkling in the night. Not a single one of them was shining for me.

The thought spurred me on.

A sudden sneer from behind made me turn. It was my son, Asher.

"Mom, what are you doing? You should be in bed resting." He sounded bored. "You're not some actress in a tragedy. Who are you putting on this 'to be or not to be' melodrama for?"

"A melodrama? Who's the one who's been acting this whole time, lying to my face?" I stared into his eyes, searching for a flicker of remorse.

But all I got was cold logic. "It wasn't a lie. At most, it was a misdiagnosis from Grandpa. You don't have cancer. You're not going to die. You can stay with us. Isn't that a good thing?"

Oh. So I was supposed to be grateful that their cruel deception had been exposed?

I turned back to the window. The wind whipped my hair around my face. I had climbed onto that operating table to live. Now, I was climbing onto this ledge to die, and in doing so, live again.

Without another thought, I leaned forward, ready for the fall.

But the exhilarating rush of descent never came.

My son had slammed the emergency call button and was now desperately holding onto me.

"Mom! What are you doing?! Grab my hand!"

"Let go," I rasped.

Veins bulged on Asher's arms as he gritted his teeth. "No!"

"Mom, so you lost a part of yourself? It's not a big deal! Dad said he'll never be disgusted by you, no matter what you look like."

I was so tired of hearing those empty words. I thrashed my arms, trying to shake him loose.

His eyes reddened, and his voice cracked with tears. "Can you really just leave me and die?"

I looked up at the boy I had raised. The terror in his eyes looked so real, as if he truly couldn't live without me.

I gave him a sharp tug, my gaze turning to ice.

"If you can't bear to let me go, then come with me."

I pulled harder, twisting my body so he was dragged off balance. The color drained from his face, and his grip slackened in pure fear.

I knew he was terrified.

I felt my body begin to slip downwards. Just as I thought I was finally free, a powerful force yanked me back.

Security guards and nurses had arrived, swarming around me.

Damn it. I was so close.

Hauled back from the brink, I lay limply on the bed. Asher was sobbing, completely terrified. Before I could process anything, Damon burst into the room.

He pushed through the crowd and stormed over to me.

SMACK!

The force of the slap snapped my head to the side. The violent movement tore at my wounds, and I felt fresh blood seep through the bandages.

"Are you fucking insane?" he roared, his eyes bloodshot. He grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look at him. "Asher is our son! Our own flesh and blood! And you were going to drag him down with you just to make a point?"

"Aria, when is this going to end? Do you even have a heart?"

The words caught in my throat, but a cold laugh escaped my lips.

Was I the heartless one?

Who lied to me about having cancer?

Who put me through chemotherapy when I wasn't sick?

Who used the pretense of treatment to mutilate my body, all to get a smile from Celeste?

But I was done explaining.

Seeing my silence, Damon's patience snapped. He grabbed my arm and started dragging me out of the room. "If you don't want to be in the hospital, then you can come home with me!"

I let him drag me to the car like a doll, my mind fixated on a single thought.

I had to find another chance to escape this world.

The city lights blurred past the car window. The world was so full of life, yet none of it felt like it was for me.

The car turned onto a deserted mountain road.

This was my chance. I lunged for the door handle.

"You're asking to die!" Damon snarled, yanking the wheel hard to the right. The car screeched, carving a dangerous arc across the road.

I threw all my weight against the door, and it flew open, letting in a blast of icy wind. With what little strength I had left, I threw myself out.

Just as I was about to tumble out, Damon unbuckled his seatbelt, abandoning the wheel to slam his body against mine, pinning me inside.

The car was completely out of control. It smashed into the mountainside guardrail with a deafening crash.

The impact threw us violently against the car's interior. Damon's forehead was split open, and blood streamed down his handsome face. He was breathing heavily, his eyes dark and menacing as he stared at me.

"You want to die that badly?"

I met his gaze, my answer firm. "Yes."

He was about to explode with rage when the sharp, acrid smell of gasoline filled the air.

Damon's face changed. "Damn it!" he cursed.

Ignoring the blood pouring from his head, he fought to pull me from the twisted wreckage of my seat. I had no will to live left. In fact, I hoped the fire would come faster.

"Just go," I told him. "Leave me."

He acted as if he hadn't heard me. He brutally bent the metal trapping me, then scooped me into his arms, holding me tight.

The moment we were clear, a deafening explosion ripped through the night. A roaring inferno instantly consumed the expensive sports car.

The heat washed over us, and he shielded me with his body, his eyes red-rimmed and furious.

"Aria, I'll say this one more time," he growled, his voice a low threat.

"I decide when you die. Not you."

The scene was eerily familiar. Years ago, we were trapped in a warehouse during a shootout with a rival gang. He had protected me just like this, whispering, "Don't be afraid, Aria. As long as I'm here, you won't lose a single hair on your head."

For those words, I had stood by him through everything. I fought beside him through blood and fire, even using my family's influencethe Sterling family's powerto secure his position as the undisputed king of the city's underworld.

But now, the same protective gesture felt like nothing but a bitter mockery.

I don't remember how I got back to the villa.

As soon as we walked in, a wave of cozy, domestic warmth hit me, making me feel like an intruder.

Celeste was carefully blowing on a bowl of soup. My father, Arthur Sterling, hovered behind her, his eyes full of doting concern. "Careful now, Celeste. Don't burn yourself."

When they saw us, and especially the gash on Damon's forehead, Celeste gasped and rushed over.

"Damon, you're hurt! What happened?" Her eyes flickered to me, to the flat expanse of my chest, and her look of concern shifted to one of pity. "Was it because of Aria? Don't blame her. She's probably just having a hard time accepting her condition. We should be more supportive."

I snapped. I strode forward and slapped her across the face.

"Shut up! What right do you have to stand there and play the saint?"

Celeste clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. In the same instant, Arthur lunged forward, pushing me to the ground as he shielded her.

"That's enough!" he roared. "Look at you! You have none of the grace of a Sterling. We spoiled you, let you run wild and bully Celeste! This surgery was meant to teach you a lesson, and here you are, threatening to kill yourself over it!"

I looked up at the man who had once adored me, my voice shaking with rage. "Is that why? Is that why you lied to me, told me I had a terminal illness, and let them turn me into this?"

He didn't answer. I couldn't tell if it was out of guilt or because he felt utterly justified.

When I first entered this world, Arthur Sterling had just lost his wife. As a man who had married into the powerful Sterling family, he was being crushed by internal politics. The system, driven by the original Aria's desperate wish, had sent me to save him. For a long time, we saved each other. I had even decided to abandon my mission and stay.

But ever since Celeste, a poor student I was sponsoring, appeared, everyone around me began to turn. A simple word of concern for her was twisted into an act of mockery. They were willing to tear me to pieces just to defend her honor.

A bitter laugh escaped me. I grabbed a fruit knife from the coffee table but I failed again.

Damon was too fast. He kicked the knife out of my hand.

"Aria, you're getting addicted to this, aren't you? Threatening to die every chance you get?" His voice was ice. "I, Damon, swear this to you: as long as you behave and leave Celeste alone, you will always be Mrs. Blackwood, no matter how much of a monster you look like."

I collapsed onto the floor, my voice flat and empty.

"But I don't want to be."