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The pregnancy test was still warm in my pocket when Mrs. Ashford handed me the termination letter. "Effective immediately, Sophia." She didn't look up from her phone. "We've found a younger au pair. Someone more… suitable for the children." I stood in the marble foyer of the Ashford estate, the house I'd cleaned, cooked in, and bled for over three years. The house where I'd raised two children who called me "Mama Soph" before their real mother corrected them. "May I ask why?" My voice was steady. I'd learned long ago that crying in front of this family was like bleeding in shark-infested water. "You're getting too attached." She finally looked up, her Botoxed face arranged in rehearsed sympathy. "The children need boundaries. And frankly, you've been looking… unwell. We can't have that around the kids." Unwell. I was eight weeks pregnant with her son's baby, and she was firing me for looking unwell. "Does Dominic know?" I asked. Something flickered in her eyes—Loss? Annoyance? "My son is engaged to Vivienne Hale. The wedding is in six weeks." She placed an envelope on the hall table. "There's three months' severance. Be gone by tonight." Three months' pay for three years of service. For raising her grandchildren while she lunched at the club. For warming her son's bed when he stumbled home drunk and lonely. For carrying his child right now, this very second. "Mrs. Ashford," I said carefully, "I need to speak with Dominic. It's important." "No." Her voice turned to ice. "Whatever you think happened between you and my son—forget it. He was lonely. You were convenient. That's all it was." She picked up her Hermès bag and walked past me, heels clicking on marble. At the door, she paused. "And Sophia? If you try to contact him, or make any… claims… our lawyers will destroy you. You have no proof of anything. You're a nanny. He's an Ashford." The door closed behind her. I stood alone in the foyer, hand pressed against my stomach, staring at the family portrait on the wall. Dominic's face smiled down at me—the same face that had whispered "I love you" in the dark, the same lips that had kissed my forehead and promised we'd figure things out. I pulled out my phone and called him. It rang once. Twice. A woman answered. "Hello? Dom's phone." Her voice was bright, musical. Vivienne. "I need to speak with Dominic." "Oh, is this the help? Mrs. Ashford said you'd been let go. Sorry about that, sweetie." A muffled giggle. "Dom, your old nanny's calling—should I tell her you're busy?" I heard his voice in the background, distant and careless: "Just block the number." The line went dead. I lowered the phone slowly. Three years. I gave this family three years, my body, my heart, and the life growing inside me. And I was "the help." I picked up the envelope, stuffed it in my bag, and walked toward the servants' exit—the only door I'd ever been allowed to use. But as I passed the study, I noticed the door was ajar. Inside, on the mahogany desk, sat an open folder. I shouldn't have looked. But the name on the first page caught my eye—not Ashford. My name. My real name. My birth name, the one I hadn't used since the orphanage. And beneath it, a photograph of a baby girl, stamped with a red seal I recognized. My hands went cold. I wasn't just their nanny. I was something they'd been hiding from me my entire life.

I woke up on the day my legal guardian, Beau, became delirious from painkillers. This time, I didn’t stay by his side. I did as he asked and called Claire. In my previous life, I’d fallen in love with Beau—the man who raised me. That day, he’d had an accident and taken too many painkillers, losing himself completely. Instead of calling Claire, I’d stayed with him. A month later, I found out I was pregnant. Beau married me for the baby. On our wedding day, Claire was in a horrific car accident while traveling overseas. Before she died, she called Beau one hundred and ninety-nine times, begging for help. He didn’t answer a single one. Later, Beau stared at those one hundred and ninety-nine missed calls in silence. He didn't break that silence until the day I went into labor, when he locked me in the basement. I begged him to take me to the hospital. He just stood there, watching as our child and I died together on the cold floor. The last thing I heard him say was, “If you hadn’t gotten pregnant, I never would have married you. I wouldn’t have missed Claire’s calls, either. You deserved this.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that day. ... “Xenia, call Claire. Now.” Hearing those words again jolted me back to reality. I was really back. I grabbed my phone and dialed Claire’s number without a second thought. Beau Mercer’s face was flushed, his breathing shallow and ragged. His eyes were unfocused, lost in the haze of the drugs. Last time, that look had been enough to make me disobey him. It had ended in my own brutal death. This time, I avoided his gaze and slipped out of the room. “Just hold on, Beau. Claire will be here in ten minutes.” The door clicked shut behind me, and I heard him murmur my name. I didn’t answer. I just stood outside the door and waited. Ten minutes later, Claire arrived. Her eyes landed on me first, her expression a complicated mix of suspicion and relief. She scanned my clothes, and only after confirming I was untouched did the tension leave her shoulders. Before pushing the door open, she threw a sentence over her shoulder. “You can go. You’re not needed here.” I turned and went upstairs to my room. It wasn't until late that night that the sounds from downstairs finally faded. I sat on the edge of my bed, the memories of my last life replaying in my mind. Back then, I’d been so in love with Beau that I’d stayed to take care of him myself. A month later, I was pregnant. He married me. But on our wedding day, Claire died in an accident. He lost the woman he’d always wanted to marry. He didn’t lash out right away. He held all that rage inside until I was about to give birth. Then he locked me in the basement. The pain was so blinding I nearly passed out. I cried. I begged. I told him I didn’t care if I died, as long as he saved the baby. But he didn’t move. He just stood there and watched me bleed out, watched our child die before it could even be born. In this life, I did what he wanted and called Claire. And soon, I would leave this place for good. The next morning, Claire was at the Mercer breakfast table. Beau took a bite of his eggs and a sip of coffee before speaking. “Claire is my girlfriend, and I intend to marry her. You will all treat her with respect.” His gaze landed on me, and he tapped his fork against his plate. “Especially you. Show my future wife some respect. Don’t make trouble.” I nodded. The corner of Claire’s mouth twitched into a smug little smile. I ignored her and stood to go back to my room. I’d barely pushed my chair back when Claire’s voice, thick with crocodile tears, stopped me. “Beau, does Xenia not want me here? I know how important she is to you. If she doesn’t like me, maybe I should just go.” A few tears slid down her cheeks as she spoke. Beau’s brow furrowed, his eyes snapping to me.......

I didn't know I was my sister's stand-in until I found the love letters my husband had written to her. Reborn, I handed him over to my sister. But he went crazy… "Miss Windsor, have you finished signing your form?" Clara Windsor stared blankly at the City Hall before her, then heard the staff member's urging voice again. Only then did she finally realize. She had been reborn? Reborn on the very day she was supposed to get her marriage license with Caspian Blackwood. In her previous life, she had been overjoyed that morning—waking early, eager to drag him to wait in line. Now she fingered the registration form in her hand, but there was not a trace of happiness on her face. The Blackwood Family was the most powerful noble house in Kingsbridge—strict, ritualistic, and unforgiving. As the heir, Caspian needed a wife who would be his steadfast support: gentle, utterly devoted to him and the family, and able to leave him with no worries at home. So in her past life, to be the perfect wife, she had abandoned her future, her sense of self. She resigned from her post, bore children, managed the household, and sacrificed everything. By the time she was barely past fifty, illness had worn her down. Lying on her deathbed, she discovered the love letters he had written to her younger sister. "You are a free bird, meant to soar across the blue sky. Because I love you, I cannot bear to trap you." "Your sister resembles you a little. Whenever I look at her face, I can fool myself into thinking the woman spending her life with me is you. In the future, let your sister handle the children, the elders, the housework—I only want you to live happily, freely, and brilliantly every single day." Only then did she understand: Caspian Blackwood, the man she had grown old with, had always loved her sister, Vanessa Windsor. He had married her only because she served another purpose. After discovering the truth, she was consumed by agony. Her son rushed back, but instead of comforting her, his face lit up. He kept urging her at her bedside. "Mom, since Dad really loves Aunt Ness, you should just divorce him already." "All these years, you've never measured up to Aunt Ness. She's a diplomat, while you've just stayed home doing chores. You don't suit Dad at all. You've kept the whole family running smoothly—now Aunt Ness can marry in without a care and live blissfully with Dad. Just let go and make way for them." That day, she died from sheer rage, slipping from the world. Opening her eyes again, she was back on the day she was supposed to get her marriage license with Caspian Blackwood. To love others, you must first love yourself. In this life, she would not repeat her mistakes. She was about to speak when the phone in Caspian's pocket rang. It was Vanessa. Seeing the caller ID, his cold expression instantly softened. He stepped aside to take the call. A minute later, he returned. "Clara, your sister sprained her ankle. As her brother-in-law, I should go see her. After you sign, just go home by yourself." Without waiting for her reply, he hurried out. His assistant, Danny, chased after him. "Mr. Blackwood, the board meeting is about to start—this contract is worth hundreds of billions. You—" "Cancel it." Caspian stepped on the accelerator, and the car vanished into traffic. Watching his receding figure, Clara felt nothing but sorrow and irony. In her past life, her eyes and heart had been full of Caspian Blackwood. She had never known that his eyes and heart were full of Vanessa. Such obvious affection—how had she missed it? She had wasted an entire lifetime. At the counter, the staff member tapped on the glass. "Miss Windsor, are you still signing the form?" Clara curved her lips, but the smile did not reach her eyes. "Yes." She picked up the pen and, stroke by stroke, wrote a name: Vanessa Windsor. Then she slid the corresponding page from the family register across the counter. Caspian Blackwood, since you love her so much, I will grant your wish. Stepping out of the City Hall, she looked at the marriage certificate in her hand and smiled bitterly. Groom: Caspian Blackwood. Bride: Vanessa Windsor. She wondered what face Caspian would make when he saw these two certificates. She had just tucked them into her bag when her phone rang. Minister Sterling's voice came through, tinged with regret. "Clara, have you really decided to resign from your diplomatic post?" "The Ministry of Foreign Affairs chooses only the best. You're someone I've always had high hopes for—limitless potential. I was planning to give you an overseas assignment, and then you suddenly said you wanted to quit." "I know family matters to you, but I have to say a few more words—" Before he could finish, Clara's resolute voice cut in. "Minister Sterling, I'm sorry. I was confused before. I'm not resigning. I'll take the overseas post." In her previous life, she had resigned from the Foreign Ministry, and right after that, the overseas post went to Vanessa. She had naively believed that sacrificing her dreams for love would earn her his love. Instead, she had spent the rest of her life trapped inside the Blackwood mansion, her spirit and talent wilting like an ephemeral flower. Meanwhile, Vanessa went abroad, made a name for herself, became a role model for students, and a national pride. In this life, she would never be hindered by love again. She would never sacrifice her future for Caspian Blackwood. From now on, she would live only for herself, shining brilliantly on her own terms.