To them, my brother's unit was the only real family. I was just inventory—a resource to be sold off once I'd served my purpose. Despite my grades bringing honor to the family name, I remained nothing more than a "wasted investment" in their eyes.
In my past life, I had poured every cent into this house, desperate for a crumb of affection. In return, they buried my battered body and slandered my name, claiming I died over a boy.
The memory made my blood boil. My fingers curled into fists.
You want to turn Grandmother into dice? Fine. Go ahead.
Just as I resolved to let them ruin themselves, sharp pain radiated up my arm. Mom's fingers dug into my flesh, twisting hard.
"You wretched girl, stop standing there! Go get the mold for Vivian!" she barked. "Our fortune depends on Grandmother's guidance. The dead know everything. Once we're rich, we won't have to worry about a thing."
I hissed through my teeth, ignoring the stinging welt forming on my skin. Instead, I plastered on a greedy grin, rubbing my hands together theatrically.
"Is Grandmother really that powerful? Then I want a die made from her ashes, too. I'll need some supernatural help getting rich after graduation."