I was the most notoriously pampered heiress in the city, backed by three adoptive fathers who would have laid down their lives for me.

My eldest father was a ruthless titan of industry; my second father was an Alist, Oscarwinning actor; and my third father was a tech prodigy turned billionaire.

Together, they spoiled me beyond reason.

Until a strange notification popped up on my phone: [Family Ruin Countdown] [3 days until your eldest father signs a joint guarantee for his adopted daughter, plunging Hilbert Enterprises into liquidation.] [7 days until your second father offends the major studio heads to protect his adopted daughter, resulting in a blacklisting.] [15 days until your third father hands over his core patent to his adopted daughter.] [Note: The heiress will be thrown out on the street to scavenge trash to survive.] I assumed it was a tasteless viral prank.

I tossed a halfeaten bite of Michelinstarred black truffle into the wastebasket and thought nothing of it.

That was until the next afternoon, when Daisy shredded the custom haute couture gown my late mother had left me for my upcoming birthday.

She stood in the center of the dressing room, eyes rimmed red, clutching a pair of shears. She dropped to her knees, trembling. "I'm so sorry...

I only wanted to alter it into something you'd like better, Margot..." My eldest father—a man who had once bought an entire private island simply because I mentioned I was afraid of the dark—didn't even look at me.

He rushed forward, gently lifting Daisy from the floor. "It’s just a dress, Margot.

Don't be so cruel to your sister." Without a word, I swung my arm and slapped Daisy so hard she staggered back three feet, crashing into the velvet sofa.

Then, clutching my chest, I collapsed onto the Persian rug, my body convulsing. "My heart... Dad, she terrified me!

Get her out of here!" … "Margot, please... don't be mad at Big Dad." Daisy reached down and picked up the heavy tailor’s shears—the ones she had just used to shred my silk gown.

A stray silver thread still clung to the sharp steel blade. "It's all my fault.

I'm the one who upset you." She looked up at me, a faint, imperceptible smile touching the corners of her lips.

Then, wrapping both hands tightly around the handles, she plunged the blade directly into her own thigh without a moment’s hesitation.

Blood surged instantly, turning the hem of her white dress a violent, sickening crimson. The corridor fell dead silent.

Daisy pulled the shears free and, dragging her bleeding leg behind her, began crawling across the hardwood floor toward me. "Don't be angry, sister," she whispered, her face draining of color, her voice soft and sweet as venom. "I'll give you my life.

Just please... don't let Big Dad blame you." I held my chest. The angina I had been faking to drive her away suddenly flared into sharp, agonizing reality.

A brutal, suffocating pain radiated from the depths of my chest. "Margot!" My eldest father’s voice boomed from above, laced with a harshness he had never once directed at me in my entire life. "When did you become so utterly vile?" I forced my eyelids open, straining to look up at the man who had cradled me in his arms since I was a little girl.

But he stepped right past me. He didn't offer a hand. He didn't even glance down.

He knelt beside Daisy, gathering her into his arms with agonizing care. "Big Dad..." Daisy collapsed against his chest, tears finally spilling over her lashes. "It was my own clumsiness... please don't be mad at sister..." "Don't talk.

Save your strength." He cut her off, his voice thick with raw, unshielded panic.

He lifted her up, turning his back on me without so much as a backward glance. "Dad!" Cold sweat soaked through the silk of my blouse.

My fingernails dug uselessly into the hardwood floor. "My... my heart..." He paused, his shoulders stiffening, and cast a cold look back over his shoulder. "How long do you plan on keeping up this act?" "Pushing your sister to selfharm just to compete for attention... and now you're faking a heart attack?" He averted his eyes, the disgust in his expression unhidden. "Margot, you disgust me." He turned and strode out of the grand foyer, holding Daisy tight.

In the empty, cavernous room, my breath rattled in my throat.

My vision flickered, the crystal chandelier above blurring into smears of blinding light before darkness encroached. "Crash!" The heavy mahogany front doors were thrown open.

Heavy, frantic footsteps rushed across the floor toward me.

A faint scent of antiseptic enveloped me—a smell that brought an instinctual, grounding comfort. "Margot!" It was Aaron, my personal physician.

He hadn't even taken off his white lab coat from the clinic. Kneeling beside me, he ripped open my collar and slammed the defibrillator pads onto my chest. "Margot, breathe!

Look at me, breathe!" Through his desperate efforts, the rhythmic "beep... beep..." of the portable heart monitor slowly stabilized, weak but steady.

I opened my eyes, staring numbly at the ceiling. Aaron used a warm towel to wipe the cold sweat from my forehead, his hands trembling.

Right then, the phone in my pocket vibrated furiously. [Eldest Father's bankruptcy countdown: 48 hours remaining.] [Host lifespan reduced by 30 days.] I leaned heavily on Aaron, forcing myself up from the sofa.

I dragged my feet down the hallway toward the study. The heavy door was left ajar, leaving a narrow crack of warm light across the carpet.

My eldest father sat behind his desk, signing a stack of equity transfer documents. "The prime real estate in the South District..." his voice drifted out, cold and transactional. "Transfer the title under Daisy's name.

Consider it compensation for today." "Also, suspend Margot's primary black card... along with her trust account." Before the chill in my blood could settle, my screen lit up again. [Warning!

Second Father has entered a fatal multicar collision loop.

Fatal crash in 3 hours!] [If a primary male character dies, the world line will forcibly erase the host!] Outside the car window, sleet whipped against the glass.

Aaron drove with steady, quiet precision, pushing the speedometer right to the limit. I leaned back against the headrest, my chest pulsing with a dull, persistent ache.

Aaron kept his eyes on the road. "Going out in your condition—are you trying to trigger total heart failure?" I gave him three words: "Drive faster." My second father, Damian, was filming on location at a mountain set.

Tonight, he was scheduled to attend a dinner with elite studio executives. If I didn't intercept him, the system warned he would be caught in a massive pileup on the mountain pass.

If he died, I died. I needed to stay alive. The car ground to a halt at the perimeter of the film set, near an artificial lake surrounded by crew members.

Daisy was standing near the water in a flimsy summer dress, half her body submerged in the freezing water, feeling around blindly. Damian stood on the bank, his face stony.

Crew members wrapped in heavy down jackets were shivering nearby. "Damian lost a prop ring during the shoot," an assistant whispered. "Miss Daisy insisted it was his lucky charm and jumped right in to find it." Aaron stood beside me, throwing me a quiet glance.

Knowing me, he expected me to rush over, pull Daisy out by her hair, and tear her apart. But I didn't move. There were still twenty minutes before the crash was scheduled to happen.

If Daisy stayed in the freezing water a little longer and delayed Damian, he would miss the window for the pileup altogether.

I calculated the time, briefly wondering if I should grab a hot cup of coffee and wait it out. But she was fast.

She burst through the surface, holding up a faded metal band. "I found it!" her voice trembled violently.

Damian immediately shed his long down coat, stepped down the embankment, and pulled her out of the water.

He wrapped her tight and lifted her into his arms. "Foolish girl," he murmured, his tone laced with protective fondness as he carried her toward his luxury trailer.

I ran forward, grabbing the handle of the trailer door before it could slide shut. "You can't go," I said, staring directly into Damian's eyes. "That road is going to collapse tonight." Damian stopped.

He looked down at my pale, rainsoaked face. "Margot, what kind of scene are you throwing now?" "That highway isn't safe. You can't take it." I tightened my grip on the handle.

Damian placed Daisy gently on the seat inside, taking a dry towel to rub her hair before turning around to face me. "You've had everything you ever wanted your entire life," he said, his voice dripping with sudden, bitter resentment. "But what about Daisy?

Her mother died under the wheels of a car to save us all. She spent ten years suffering in an orphanage!" "How do we ever repay that debt? This dinner tonight is for her career.

I am going." He reached out and, one by one, pried my fingers off the door handle. I didn't have his strength. He shoved me back, and I stumbled, falling hard onto the icy gravel.

The biting sleet hammered against my thin clothes, leeching my body heat and sending my heart rhythm into a chaotic spiral.

Yet Damian didn't even seem to notice my turning lips. "Stay right here," he said coldly. "When you finally figure out how to appreciate Daisy, then you can come home." The door slammed shut, and the trailer pulled away into the storm.

I rubbed my scraped knees and pushed myself up from the mud. The rain grew heavier.

Fifteen minutes later, the film set's emergency broadcast crackled over the loudspeakers: "Attention all crew, a massive multivehicle pileup has occurred on Mountain Highway Mile 14.

Emergency services are en route..." Aaron pulled off his heavy wool coat and draped it over my shoulders, wrapping an arm around me. "Stop trying to save them, Margot." My phone buzzed.

A text from the system: [Second Father survived.

During the impact, Daisy threw herself across his chest to block the windshield glass.] Before I could catch my breath, the doors to the temporary medical unit were kicked open with a deafening bang.

My third father, Malcolm, charged out like a rabid beast. His usually immaculate goldrimmed glasses sat crooked on his nose, his designer coat misaligned.

He lunged forward, grabbing Aaron by the throat, but his bloodshot eyes were pinned entirely on me. "Margot, give me the serum." "Daisy's optic nerves are dying.

She needs the cellular regenerator now." That serum was a rare, highly active cellular regenerator—a final gift my late mother had spent her life's work refining.

It was my literal lifeline, meant to stabilize my vascular network after my upcoming heart transplant. It also happened to be capable of regenerating dead optic nerves.

I looked him dead in the eye. "Without that dose, I won't survive my surgery next month." He stared at me, devoid of any hesitation. "Margot, don't be so selfish!

If Daisy doesn't use it right now, she'll be permanently blind!

Postponing your surgery for a few weeks won't kill you—consider this a lesson in empathy!" Malcolm slammed a tablet against my chest. "Listen to this!" The dashcam footage flickered violently on the screen.

The video was obscured, capturing only Daisy's hysterical sobbing and a voice coming through the car's Bluetooth—a voice that sounded identical to mine: "Why don't you just die?

If you die, the dads will belong to me again!" Then came the screech of tires, a violent swerve, and the sickening crunch of metal smashing through the guardrail. "That audio is a fake!" I ground my teeth, struggling against his grip. "I never made that call!" Malcolm adjusted his goldrimmed glasses, looking down at me with absolute ice in his eyes. "The audio parameters were verified from the original file.

Margot, this is attempted murder." The doors to the clinic swung open, and a nurse pushed a wheelchair out onto the ramp.

Daisy sat in it, thick layers of white gauze wrapped tightly around her eyes.

Damian walked beside her, his hand wrapped securely around her wrist. "Don't blame sister..." Daisy's voice was weak, barely above a whisper. "She just couldn't control her emotions...

I don't hold it against her." The elevator chimed, and my eldest father strode out, making a beeline for Daisy's side. "How severe is it?" Damian's knuckles turned white. "The impact severed the optic nerve.

She's lost her vision." Malcolm turned back to me, his eyes bloodshot, his voice laced with unhinged obsession. "Margot, you already owe her mother a debt of blood.

Hand over the serum.

Consider it settling the Hilbert family's debt." The regenerator was secured inside the temperaturecontrolled case Aaron carried. "There is only one dose," I said, staring at Malcolm's outstretched hand—the very hand that had once locked the case himself, promising it was my safety net. "If you take it, I die." My eldest father, ever the pragmatic businessman, stepped forward. "The Hilbert family's savior cannot be a blind girl.

Your heart condition can be managed. Stop throwing tantrums. Hand over the case." Malcolm didn't wait. He lunged directly for the case in Aaron's hand.

Aaron shifted his weight, pivoting to shield the container behind his back. "If you drain the active compound, her heart will stop beating." My eldest father raised a hand and gave a swift gesture.

Four built, suitclad bodyguards rushed down the corridor. Two grabbed Aaron’s arms, while the other two tackled him to grab the case.

Aaron drove his heel back, snapping it hard into the lead guard's kneecap. The guard tumbled backward, knocking the thermal case onto the floor.

The heavy latch burst open upon impact, and the pale blue vial rolled out from the shockabsorbing foam. Malcolm dropped down instantly, snatching the vial off the floor.

Aaron strained against the men, trying to reclaim it, but the head bodyguard’s face twisted into something brutal.

He whipped a heavy tactical baton from his belt and slammed it down onto Aaron's right forearm with terrifying force. "Snap!" A sickening crunch echoed down the hallway as bone fractured through skin, tearing through Aaron’s crisp white shirt.

Blood spattered across the floor. Aaron let out a muffled groan, dropping heavily to one knee, sweat pouring off his forehead.

Those hands had performed hundreds of delicate surgeries.

Now, his right arm hung uselessly at his side, blood dripping steadily from his fingertips. "Aaron!" I lunged forward to reach him, but two guards grabbed my shoulders from behind, slamming me violently against the wall.

The pressure on my carotid artery cut off my air instantly. An ophthalmologist rushed out from an office nearby.

He took the pale blue vial from Malcolm with both hands and sprinted into the operating room.

In my pocket, my phone buzzed sharply. [Warning: 12 hours remaining until host suffers fatal heart failure.] I stared at the closed doors of the operating room, my heart feeling as though an invisible fist was crushing it to pulp.

A copper taste rushed up my throat, and I vomited a mouthful of dark blood, spattering the pristine leather of my eldest father’s designer shoes. He didn't even flinch.

He looked down at me from above, giving a quiet order to the guards: "Take her to the basement utility room. Let her reflect on what she's done.

We've spoiled her rotten—she needs to learn where the line is." "No medicine without my explicit permission. She won't die in an hour or two anyway." 2 AM.

The subbasement storage room of the Hilbert estate. I lay stretched out on a bare mattress, every breath scraping against my lungs like broken glass.

My time was running out; the twelvehour countdown was nearly at zero. The heavy door clicked open. Daisy walked in, wearing the custom haute couture gown.

It had been heavily tailored—the neckline cut down low to expose her chest. It was the dress my mother had left for my twentieth birthday, and Daisy wore it like a cheap costume.

She pulled the gauze away from her eyes. Malcolm’s serum had worked wonders. Daisy strolled up to the mattress and brought her high heel down directly onto my left hand.

She pressed her weight into the heel, and I felt the faint, brittle crack of my finger bones beneath her shoe. I didn't make a sound.

I stared at her neck, calculating how much force it would take to tear through her jugular. Unfortunately, I no longer had the strength.

Daisy pulled out her phone and hit play on an audio file. My eldest father’s voice filled the damp room: "Cut off all her specialized medical care. Let her suffer a bit.

Take the equity transfer documents and have her sign them—consider it restitution for Daisy." He wanted the forty percent of original shares left to me in my mother's estate.

Daisy let out a cruel laugh. "Did you hear that?" She slapped a stack of papers against my face. "Sign the Waiver of Resuscitation and the Unconditional Equity Transfer." "Sign them, and I'll let that doctor outside leave.

His hand is completely ruined anyway—he’s just taking up space." There was a heavy dragging sound outside the door, and Aaron was thrown into the room.

Crawling on his left elbow, he dragged his broken body beside me, positioning himself between Daisy and my prone form.

Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead, spattering onto my cheek. "Don't sign," he rasped, his voice raw. He was my doctor; he knew my vitals better than anyone.

He knew I was at the end. "I'll get you out of here. And if I can't...

I'll stay right here with you." Daisy nudged his bloodsoaked shoulder with the point of her shoe. "Neither of you is going anywhere." My phone chimed with the final countdown alert: [Lifespan remaining: 3 minutes.] A dry laugh escaped my throat.

I reached up with my right hand and gently wiped the blood from Aaron's cheek. "Did you send the email?" Aaron looked into my eyes, his own rimmed with red, and gave a faint nod. "It's set.

The moment your heart monitor zeroes out, every piece of dark accounting, every piece of evidence of the corporate sabotage they committed over the years, will hit the inboxes of hundreds of media outlets simultaneously." The reason that data had never been released was the thick layer of plot armor surrounding the "protagonist." Any attempt to expose them before would have been swept under the rug.

The only condition to strip that plot armor... was my death. Daisy’s smile vanished.

She took a step back, her voice uneasy. "What kind of crazy nonsense are you talking about?" Aaron’s hand trembled as he pulled a small glass syringe from his inner pocket and pressed it into my palm.

He leaned down, pressing his lips gently against my forehead, his tears falling hot against my neck. "Don't be afraid, Margot." Our fingers intertwined.

Together, we guided the needle into the vein on the side of my neck, pushing the plunger all the way down.

I rested against his chest, listening as my weak, agonizing pulse slowed... and finally stopped.

A disembodied voice resonated in the air: [The Female Lead's Heavenly Halo has been forcibly dismantled due to the Host's death.] "Bang!" The iron basement door was thrown open.

My eldest father, second father, and third father rushed into the room, stumbling right into the scene. Three powerful men stared at my lifeless body lying in a pool of blood.

Their pupils contracted into pinpricks. In an instant, their faces twisted into absolute madness, and they lunged forward like wounded beasts. "NO—! MARGOT!"