Chapter 2
Luna White pushed open the creaky wooden door with effort, already breaking into a sweat from the few steps to the doorway. Her legs trembled weakly, and her stomach burned with hunger.
In this household, she was nothing but an unwanted burden. Her grandmother, Clara White, and uncle, Jack White, constantly berated her as a "freeloader," denying her even the right to eat at the table. Every meal, she had to crouch in the corner of the kitchen, waiting to scavenge scraps.
Her cousins—Maya White and the others—never left her anything decent. At best, she got half a bowl of watery cornmeal porridge or a chunk of rock-hard steamed bread. Wheat-flour buns? Forget about it. Often, she had to dilute the leftovers with water and scrape the pot clean just to make a meager "meal."
The most ridiculous part? In her past life, she had never even thought of stealing food. Day after day, she slaved away in the smoke-filled kitchen, dizzy with hunger from the tantalizing smells, yet still foolishly obeyed the rules. No wonder she had withered into this skeletal frame, ready to collapse at the slightest breeze.
Serves me right for dying so miserably last time, Luna thought bitterly. No brains, no backbone—who else would die but me?
By her count, she had been unconscious for a full day. That old hag Clara wouldn’t have bothered bringing her food. Right now, filling her stomach was the top priority.
Leaning against the wall, Luna slowly made her way outside. The damp, low-ceilinged adobe hut didn’t even need a lock—who would steal from a "worthless burden"? The rest of the White family lived in bright, sturdy brick houses.
The moment she stepped into the yard, she ran into Maya. This cousin, just a month older, was plump and fair-skinned, her chest already full—the picture of a young woman. Meanwhile, Luna looked like an underdeveloped scarecrow.
"Stop pretending to be half-dead!" Maya rolled her eyes. "Grandma just hit you a few times. Hurry up and cook! If she comes back from work and finds you lazing around, you’ll get another beating!"
Truthfully, Clara had checked on Luna that morning, realizing she’d gone too far. She’d told Maya to handle the cooking, but the girl had burned the porridge and sliced the pickles as thick as fingers. Now that Luna was moving again, Maya was quick to dump the responsibility back on her.
Luna watched coldly as Maya sashayed back to her room for a nap. In this house, she was treated worse than a dog. It wasn’t until her past life, when Jack let it slip, that she learned she wasn’t even a White by blood. She was the child of "capitalist roaders," entrusted to her adoptive parents, John and Mary White.
Her adoptive parents had treated her as their own, and her older brother, Ethan White, along with her two sisters, had genuinely cared for her. But none of them had known that the nineteen dollars sent monthly as her "living expenses" had all gone into Clara and Jack’s pockets—while she starved.
And the stupidest part? She had helped cover it up! Every time her siblings visited, Clara would dress her in clean clothes for show. And like an idiot, she had played along, thinking she shouldn’t burden her family.
Not this time.
Luna marched straight into the kitchen, easily locating the flour jar. She could find Clara’s hidden food stores blindfolded.
Soon, a pot of steaming noodle soup was ready. She cracked two eggs into the broth and sprinkled it with fresh green onions. The tangy aroma of pickled cabbage made her mouth water.
After downing a bowl, strength seeped back into her limbs. Wiping her mouth, Luna’s gaze sharpened.
From now on, no one would starve her again. Every debt would be repaid—down to the last cent.