In early August, 1973, in the Foster family's house in Bin City.
"Mom, what did you just say?"
"I'm not your biological daughter?"
"Does that mean I'm Dad's real daughter? God, did Dad cheat on you? Who's my birth mom then? She must be super pretty, right?"
"I mean, she’s got to be. Look at Dad's horse face—no way I’d turn out this gorgeous if my mom wasn’t beautiful."
"Emily Foster!"
Martha Carter’s chest heaved with anger as she glared at Emily. "Have you no shame? You’re grown now, yet you talk about cheating and how you’re gorgeous. Is this what I taught you?"
Emily pouted. "When did you ever teach me anything? You’ve got some nerve saying that."
"You little...!"
Martha took a deep breath. "I don’t want to argue with you. I came here to tell you something—you're not our child. You weren’t born from me, and you’re not Richard’s either."
"When I gave birth at the hospital, your birth mom took advantage of our family's wealth. She secretly swapped you out, so you could come here and enjoy the good life."Emily Foster curled her lip slightly. She had no idea if her birth mother had actually swapped the babies back then, but she was absolutely certain she hadn’t exactly lived the good life in the Foster family.
The Fosters, once a wealthy capitalist family, had built a solid foundation thanks to old Mr. Foster’s early ventures. Even though times had been uncertain in recent years, this "red capitalist" family name, combined with their low-profile way of doing things, had kept them out of trouble.
Compared to regular folks, their life was worlds better. In theory, even if she didn’t live like a princess, she shouldn’t have suffered much either.
But her reality was a far cry from that expectation. From as far back as she could remember, her life had been nothing short of misery. Bitter didn’t even begin to describe it.
Every day, she had to wake up at five in the morning to greet Mr. and Mrs. Foster. Then, she'd prepare breakfast for the whole family. After that, it was one chore after another—laundry, cleaning, you name it—until she could finally lie down at eleven at night. Even then, she often went hungry or felt the cold biting at her.
If all the kids in the family were treated this way, she might have swallowed the unfairness, chalking it up to the adults trying to teach their children some resilience.
But no. Out of the Foster’s five children, she was the only one living like that. The other four were pampered like young masters and ladies, never lifting a finger. Her life was even harder than the housemaids’.
When she was younger, she had once dared to ask Martha Carter if she was actually their child. Not only had Martha loudly denied it, but she’d also slapped her hard for even bringing it up.
Thinking about it now...Emily Foster stared intently at Martha Carter, doubt etched all over her face. The skepticism in her eyes was impossible to miss. She believed someone had switched the babies, but the question of who was behind it remained a mystery worth digging into.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Martha's tone carried a hint of irritation, but she quickly suppressed it, remembering why she came here today. This girl was as stubborn as ever—she’d need to calm her down first before moving on to the bigger issue at hand.
"Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t know you weren’t my biological daughter either, you know. And all those years of making you work—wasn’t it just to teach you some life skills? Look at you now, able to handle everything, from fixing meals to running errands..."
A trace of mockery flickered across Emily’s face, so stark that Martha paused, momentarily at a loss for words. Her mind spun as she searched for something to justify herself, scrambling through memories to find any example of kindness. At last, she grasped at a feeble thread.
"At least I sent you to school. You’re a high school graduate, aren’t you? If I’d known back then you weren’t mine, I wouldn’t have wasted money on schooling. Do you even know how expensive that was?"
"Ha!" Emily let out a deliberately exaggerated scoff, rolling her eyes with unrestrained sarcasm. Inwardly, she mused bitterly, *Was it even her idea to send me to school? Absolutely not—it was me, fighting tooth and nail for every chance I got.*
Sure, she’d been frail as a kid, but her mind was sharp. She had figured out early on that education was her one shot at changing her fate. Back when Martha Carter was dead set on keeping Emily Foster from going to school, Emily didn’t just sit there and take it. She seized every chance to make a fuss, especially in front of others. She cried so hard, people thought she might pass out. Naturally, the neighbors took her side, and their scolding came down on Martha like a flood. Martha was desperate to save face, so she grudgingly let Emily attend school. Even then, she tried more than once to make her drop out. But Emily was sharp and determined, and somehow managed to graduate high school.
“Emily, sweetie.”
Martha suddenly softened her tone, using a kind voice she’d never used before. She even reached out, trying to pat Emily’s hair, but Emily smoothly stepped back, avoiding her touch.
Unfazed, Martha went on, “Don’t you worry now. Sure, swapping babies wasn’t the right thing for your birth mother to do, but that’s got nothing to do with you. We’ve taken care of you all these years, haven’t we? We’ve built feelings — there’s no way we’d ever kick you out. From now on, we’ll just tell everyone I had twins. You’re the big sister, and Sophia’s the little one.”
Emily let out a short laugh, her big, bright eyes fixed on Martha. “So, what you’re saying is, I should be grateful to you? Well, thank you so much, Mrs. Carter. Really.”
Martha smiled as she got to her feet. “No need to thank us. Just remember how much you owe us, that’s all.”
For all Emily’s spunk, she was still young and lacked experience. In the end, Martha’s smooth words brushed past her defenses.
As for the real reason Martha wanted Emily around? The thought brought a genuine smile to her face, a far cry from her earlier pretense. Staring at Martha Carter’s retreating figure, Emily Foster lowered her gaze. The confirmation of her doubts wasn’t as shocking as she thought—it was almost a relief. At least now, whatever decisions she made moving forward, guilt wouldn’t weigh her down anymore.
That night, Emily found herself restless, her thoughts tangled and messy. She tossed and turned for what felt like forever before she finally drifted off. But in the middle of the night, she woke up burning with a fever. Half-conscious, she managed to pour herself a glass of water and drink it, but sleep? That wasn’t happening.
As her mind wandered through the haze, those oddly familiar yet distant memories surged back, sharp and clear. She blinked, realizing something incredible—her past life, every single detail of it, had come rushing back to her.
But that wasn’t even the craziest part. The mysterious space she had stumbled upon in that past life? It was here too, reborn with her.
This space was vast, with lush greenery, flowing streams, and a crystal-clear spring. Yet, the treasures within were what truly caught her breath—the stockpile she had left behind. Everyday supplies, essential medicines, seeds for vegetables and fruits, even baby formula… She had prepared for just about everything. And, of course, the most critical items: sanitary pads and ice cream milk tea. The former was non-negotiable, obviously, but the latter? Pure indulgence she couldn't live without.
There was also some gold and silver, not a ton, but enough. Honestly, gold wasn’t cheap, and her budget back then had been pretty tight.She had to admit, saving up all these supplies was purely a lucky accident. If it hadn’t been for winning a lottery jackpot, she wouldn’t have had the money to stockpile anything. After all, where would a regular person like her get the extra cash?
In her previous life, she was just a mediocre little taoist priest. Sure, she learned a few things here and there, but none of them were the kind of skills that could make serious money. To be honest, she didn’t even pick up the ones that could be profitable.
Emily Foster let out a soft breath—her fever was really making her miserable. She retrieved a fever-reducing pill from her space and downed it quickly with some milk tea. The instant relief was almost enough to make her sigh. It had been over a decade since she tasted it, but the flavor still had that comforting familiarity.
After finishing the milk tea and clearing her mind a bit, Emily started tidying up and getting ready for sleep. But mid-motion, as she was pulling the blanket over herself, she suddenly caught the sound of faint, intermittent voices coming from outside her room.
She stopped what she was doing immediately, slid out of bed barefoot, and quietly crept toward the source of the sound. Following the trail of hushed words, she found herself by the bedroom door of Richard and Martha Carter. It was from there that the voices were escaping.
