Reborn as My Ex's Sister

I drifted in a warm darkness. I could clearly feel Florence Hill's gentle breaths, her heartbeat like a tender drumbeat, resonating through the belly. I was wrapped in softness, as if the entire world was holding me tenderly. But that tenderness couldn't quell the pain deep within my bones. That day, rain poured heavily; Miles Evans trapped me in the villa's basement. The fruit knife in his hand caught the dim light, its cold blade pressing against my pregnant belly—I was still begging him. I pleaded with him to spare us for the child's sake, but he smiled like a venomous serpent. I can't forget the look in his eyes when he plunged the fruit knife into my abdomen. There was no hesitation in that gaze—only pure disgust for me and the child I carried. He said, "Shirley, I won't let you and that basta*d stand in my way. Vivian is far more useful than you—she's already pregnant with my child. So..." I died with my unborn child. I fell into darkness, my heart heavy with hatred. Before my consciousness slipped away, all I could see was his savage, merciless face. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in his house. No, even more absurdly, I ended up as his father, Drake Evans, and his young stepmother, Florence Hill's daughter. I was in Florence's womb, the so-called "younger sister" of Miles. Today, the Evans family is holding a banquet to celebrate Florence's pregnancy. I can hear the guests laughing and the footsteps of the servants moving around. Florence sat on the sofa, Drake holding her hand, his voice filled with tenderness: "If you're tired, just say so. Don't push yourself." She nodded gently, her hand never leaving her belly. Miles and his secretary, Vivian Lincoln, approached. Vivian carried a silver tray with a glass of lemonade, smiling with her eyes narrowed. Miles approached Florence with a false smile. "Mom, congratulations." He picked up a glass of lemonade from the tray and offered it. "Vivian specially prepared this with honey; it's good for pregnant women." I immediately tensed. In my past life, I knew Vivian had been having an affair with Miles. Once, I caught them being intimate in the office. Miles held her close, calling her "baby," and said, "Once I deal with Shirley and claim fortune of the Evans family, I'll marry you." After causing my death, those two finally got what they wanted. There has to be something wrong with this glass of water! I struggled to scream, to warn Florence to run, but it was as if darkness had sealed my throat, trapping every sound. Desperately, I focused all my thoughts on Florence, shouting again and again, "Don't drink! There's an abortifacient in the water!" Unexpectedly, Florence's hand holding the glass hesitated. She frowned, her fingertips lightly tapping the rim, as if she truly sensed that something was wrong. "What's wrong, Mom?" Miles's voice was more urgent this time as he leaned forward, offering the cup again. "The water's just warmed—please drink it quickly." Vivian stepped closer and lifted the honey jar from the tray. "Yes, Mrs. Hill, the honey is Manuka from country X. I had a friend specially bring it—it's good for the baby's development." As she spoke, she stole a glance at Miles from the corner of her eye, her triumphant expression impossible to conceal. My anxiety flared like a raging fire in my mind: "They want to kill the child in your womb! Miles doesn't want the baby born because he wants to monopolize the family inheritance!" Florence's body trembled slightly; instinctively, she shifted the cup a little to the side. Then she forced a smile, tucking back the hair by her ear with her fingers: "Maybe I drank too much fresh juice just now; I feel a bit full. Let's leave it for now." Miles's eyes darkened, his fingers unconsciously pinching the cup's handle, but he didn't press further. He tugged at the corner of his mouth: "Alright then, when you feel like it, I'll ask Vivian to get you another cup." Vivian nodded, but her eyes swept coldly over Florence's belly, icy as frost. Only after the two had turned and walked away did Florence lean back on the sofa, gently stroking her belly. Her voice was soft and uncertain, "Is it you speaking to me? Baby?" I responded immediately, my thoughts filled with urgency: "It's me, Mom! Miles and Vivian have ill intentions. From now on, don't touch anything they give you!" Florence remained silent for a long time; I could feel her fingers lightly tracing circles on her belly. When she spoke again, her voice held a firmer resolve: "Alright, I trust you." She touched her belly once more, her voice softening: "From now on, we'll protect each other until you are safely born." The tension in my heart finally eased as I gently moved within the amniotic fluid. The first step of my revenge has finally succeeded. At least this time, I protected us.