Sophia had always been secretive about her affairs. I only learned how wild she was after her "lover" murdered me last life.

Her hookup spots? No clue.

"She's a grown woman, not my pet. How would I know where she is?"

Dad's patience snapped. His goons pinned me to a chair as he slapped me again. "Slander her again, and you'll regret it."

"You think silence saves you? I'll make you talk."

He grinned darkly, snatched my phone, and called my boyfriend, Evan.

"Babe? What's up?"

Dad muted me, put Evan on speaker. "Evan, it's me."

Evan tensed. "Sir, I promise I'll treat Vivi right—"

Dad cut in coldly. "Don't bother. I owe you an apology for setting you up with my failure of a daughter."

"You don't know? Vivi's mentally ill. She's always threatening suicide, getting drunk and causing scenes, forcing her stepmom to bail her out of the police station in the middle of the night."

"She sleeps around and caught an STD. I only learned later."

"Break up. Don't let her ruin your life."

Not a shred of mercy. No thought for how this would destroy me.

In that moment, I finally understood the true meaning of the saying: 'A stepmother guarantees a stepfather.'

Silence hung. Then Evan hung up.

He won't believe it.

Evan was my dad's business partner's son, set up by my dad. But our relationship had always been good. He always trusted me.

Dad smirked triumphantly. "No more stepmom cleaning up your messes. Stop clinging to her again."

Amidst my anger, a wave of bitterness washed over me. Today was Mom's death anniversary. Like my previous life, he was completely consumed by Sophia, without a single word for my mom.

I broke free from the man holding me, grabbed Mom's photo, and yelled, eyes stinging: "ou only have that Sophia woman in your heart now! Did you even remember my mom? Today is her death anniversary!"

Bringing it up only made him more unhinged.

"Your mom, your mom, that's all you care about! All she left me was a troublemaker, a little bitch just as trashy as she was!"

"Sophia's a saint for putting up with your lies!"

" Adam John, you're vile!" I screamed.

"Calling your father vile? Fine. I'll show you vile."

"Rip down her photos! Burn that woman's things!"

Those were all I had left of Mom. I fought, but they held me down.

The photos weregone. My mother's things were gone.

The place was a wreck.

And since I lived on the first floor, a crowd gathered after work—including my colleagues.