"Here's 300 grand—get out of East City and stop embarrassing us!"

Becky Southcott was reading fortunes under the bridge when her biological brother tracked her down.

She lifted her gaze to the disdainful young man before her and said coolly, "300 grand to buy your life? That’s a bit cheap, don’t you think?"

The boy stomped his foot in outrage. "Who the hell do you think you are? If Mom and Dad weren’t forcing us to bring you back, I wouldn’t even waste my breath on a fraud like you!"

Becky studied him—his body wreathed in murky gray energy, his face etched with impending misfortune—and nodded in agreement.

If not for her recent failed breakthrough, and the divination showing the Southcott family was headed for disaster—with her own fate entangled—she wouldn’t have bothered making this trip at all.

"I’ll leave, sure. But 300 grand isn’t enough. Make it three million."

Three million to sever their blood ties. She’d help them survive this calamity, and then they’d be square.

No sooner had she spoken than three people stepped out of a nearby car. Had they overheard? Their expressions were unreadable.

Johnny Southcott, standing beside her, had initially looked awkward at his parents’ sudden arrival. But hearing Becky’s demand, he immediately straightened up.

"Mom, Dad, see? She’s nothing but a con artist. Three million right off the bat—someone like her doesn’t deserve to come home."

Mrs. Southcott clearly hadn’t expected her long-lost daughter to be a street fortune-teller. Her face darkened.

Beside her, an impeccably dressed girl quickly looped an arm around Mrs. Southcott’s shoulder. "Mom, Sister must’ve had a hard time out there. She probably had no choice but to lie. Don’t blame her."

Becky arched an eyebrow. So this was the impostor—the cuckoo who’d taken her nest.

Pale skin, lavish clothes—every inch the spoiled princess.

Mr. Lin snorted, "With a pair of hands and feet, there's nothing you can't do honestly. Why resort to swindling?"

Mrs. Southcott also felt displeased. How could her daughter have strayed onto such a crooked path?

Yet as she took in Becky Southcott's gaunt frame draped in faded clothes, her heart ached at the thought of the girl wandering homeless for over a decade. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Mo-Mo, you've suffered so much," Mrs. Southcott said, voice trembling. "I'm your mother. Come home with us, and promise never to deceive people again."

If they could just bring her back, proper discipline might still steer her right... hopefully.

Becky studied them. "You're sure you want me to come home?"

"Of course," Mrs. Southcott nodded tearfully. "You're our daughter. After all these years of hardship, I'll make it up to you."

Becky fell silent.

This wasn't part of her original plan.

She had only recently discovered her true identity, having always believed herself an abandoned child. Left by the roadside as an infant, she'd been taken in by her master—a reclusive Daoist ascetic in the most literal sense.

Since he abstained from worldly sustenance, he knew nothing of caring for a child. Becky had learned early to fend for herself.

Fortunately, her master had taught her esoteric skills to survive. But years of solitary existence had left her unfamiliar with familial bonds, and she'd long stopped hoping for them.

So when she recently calculated that this calamity in her fate was tied to her family and learned about her true origins, she merely intended to find them, sever the karmic ties with money, and leave—never considering staying as some so-called "real heiress."

That brief hesitation in Becky Southcott's demeanor was interpreted quite differently by Johnny Southcott.

"Mom, why bother with her? She clearly doesn’t want to come home—she’s just after the three million," he scoffed.

Mr. Southcott frowned as well. Three million was nothing to the Southcott family, but the fact that his daughter, Hodierna, was pulling such a brazen scam at her age, demanding three million upfront, left a sour taste in his mouth.

She wasn’t even a tenth as sensible as Jemma!

If not for his wife’s insistence on bringing their daughter back, he wouldn’t have given her the time of day.

Becky spoke calmly, "The three million is a discounted rate, considering you’re my blood relatives. Your situation is already critical."

Others had to pay at least five million for her services—and that was only if she had the time.

Besides, the ominous gray aura clinging to Mr. and Mrs. Southcott was even thicker than Johnny’s. If left unchecked, they’d lose at least half their vitality.

"Elder sister, how can you say such things? Are you cursing Mom and Dad?" Jemma blinked, tears welling in her eyes. "Or… do you resent me for taking your place? Is that why you refuse to come home and are deliberately upsetting them?"

Her voice trembled as she added, "If my presence is the problem… I can leave..."

"Jemma, don’t talk like that," Johnny cut in, glaring furiously at Becky. "You’ll always be my sister—no stray cat or dog can just waltz in and replace you."

He turned his fiery gaze back to Becky. "Let me make this clear—even if you come back, Jemma is the only sister I’ll ever acknowledge!"

Becky Southcott shot a glance at the spiky-haired brat, her expression clearly saying, "As if I care."

"Shut your mouth. Mo-Mo is your sister too," Mrs. Southcott snapped, displeased with Becky's attitude but unwilling to let her long-lost daughter be driven away by this insolent boy.

Reaching out with trembling hands, she tried to take Becky's arm. "Mo-Mo, I know you've been through a lot. Please come home with me first, okay?"

Becky studied the teary-eyed woman before her and gave a slight nod after a moment's consideration. "Fine."

This would be a good opportunity to see what was really going on in that household—how they'd managed to entangle themselves in such heavy karma. She could leave once she'd sorted it out.

Overjoyed, Mrs. Southcott hastily pulled out a card. "Mo-Mo, this is a little welcome gift from me. There's five hundred thousand in it. I know it's not much, but I'll make it up to you later."

Without any false modesty, Becky took the card.

Five hundred thousand was still short of severing the karmic ties, but it would do as a deposit for now.

Her matter-of-fact acceptance earned another scornful look from Johnny Southcott.

"Come on, let's go home," Mrs. Southcott urged.

But Becky didn't move. "I need to grab a few things first. I'll find you tomorrow."

Mrs. Southcott's outstretched hand froze midair. "Mo-Mo... you know where home is?"

"Yeah," Becky nodded. She'd already figured that much out—she just hadn't bothered to earlier.

Johnny let out a derisive snort. "Calculating little witch."

Since she already knew where her family was, why didn't she come looking for them on purpose? Did she deliberately wait for them to find her first just to play the victim?

"Then I'll go with you to get your things."

"No need." Becky Southcott took out three amulets from her small bag and handed them over. "Keep these with you before I return."

Without waiting for a reply, she picked up her belongings from the street stall and walked away.

Mrs. Southcott had wanted to follow, but Becky moved swiftly—though her steps seemed unhurried, she was already far ahead in the blink of an eye. Left with no choice, Mrs. Southcott gave up.

Jemma Southcott watched her leave, masking the disgust in her eyes before bursting into tears again, her eyes red.

"Mom, Dad, it's clear that my sister doesn't like me. Maybe I shouldn’t stay at home anymore, so she won’t be upset seeing me..."

Who would’ve thought the real heiress would be such a fool? Though Jemma didn’t want any of that junk either, Becky had given one to Mom, Dad, and even Johnny—everyone except her. Wasn’t this just handing her the perfect opportunity?

"Don’t mind her, Su-Su. This kind of thing isn’t worth keeping," Johnny said, tossing the amulet aside without hesitation.

Mrs. Southcott was also a bit repulsed by it, but since it was the first gift from her daughter, she wrapped it in a tissue and stuffed it into her handbag.

Mr. Lin discarded his even faster than Johnny, then comforted the sobbing Jemma.

"Don’t cry, Su-Su. You’ll always be the Lin family’s precious daughter. We’d never abandon you."

As for Becky Southcott—they might raise her out of obligation, given their blood ties, but she shouldn’t expect anything beyond that.

Each lost in their own thoughts, the family got into the car.

None of them noticed the swirling gray mist that swiftly gathered around the vehicle as they drove away.