"Try to be a decent person from now on, all right? Stop breaking the law. Go on, your family’s outside waiting," the prison guard said with a kind smile.

Olivia Cunningham walked out of the prison with heavy steps. As she looked up at the bright blue sky, the harsh sunlight made her squint—but for the first time in a long while, she could feel the weight of freedom.

Not too far away, a brand-new Porsche stood parked, next to it a man dressed to the nines.

"Olivia," the man called out.

She looked hard at the sharply dressed, handsome man.

“Mom and Dad asked me to pick you up. It’s been rough these past two years, I get it. We’ll sort everything out for you when you get back. Make it up to you.” His tone was stiff and distant, like he wasn’t speaking to his sister at all, but to a stranger.

Still, there was a flicker of guilt beneath the coldness.

He’d expected his freshly released sister to be a mess—skinny, tired, falling apart. But instead, Olivia looked healthier than ever, more striking than before.

“You guys want to ‘make it up to me’ now? After setting me up to take the fall for Isabella? That’s cute. You think I’m a fool? Or are you just that shameless?” Olivia shot back with a sharp tone.

Elliot Cunningham’s face immediately hardened, a flash of disgust in his eyes. “You think I wanted to be the one picking you up? If the folks hadn’t forced me—ugh. You should count yourself lucky just to be allowed back home. Isabella even bought a cake for your return, don’t make it a waste!”

“Hah, like I’d be in prison if it weren’t for you lot. Especially you, Mr. Big-shot Lawyer,” Olivia sneered coldly.

To protect Isabella, Elliot had moved mountains back then. Not just him—her so-called brothers and even their parents had all chipped in.

Elliot’s expression shifted. “Back then, I had no choice but to protect Isabella.”

“Right, a whole bunch of idiots. No point talking sense,” Olivia spat and turned to leave.

Elliot’s face twisted into a deep frown. He shouted after her, “Don’t forget you’re an ex-con. Without the Cunningham family, you’re nothing. Might as well be a beggar on the street!”

Right then, a luxury car screeched to a stop in front of Olivia. The door opened and a man stepped out quickly, all respectful.

"Miss Cunningham?" he asked politely.

Olivia nodded coolly. "That’s me."

The man bowed slightly, even more respectful than before. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Please, come with me."

Elliot stood frozen, staring in shock. That car—wasn’t that a limited edition Maybach? Barely five of them in the country. Who the hell had sent something like that... for Olivia?

Just as she was about to get in, Olivia turned her head, eyes chilling. “Oh yeah. Another reason I’m not going back there—I can’t stand living with animals who don’t even speak human.”

With that, she slipped into the car gracefully. Through the windshield, the driver shot Elliot a cold glance before starting up the engine.

As the car sped off, Elliot’s face darkened until it looked like thunderclouds.

Who else could have sent a ride like that, if not the Cunningham family? And what was with all the foul language she was using now? A few years in prison and she’d gone completely feral?

"Miss Cunningham, Ms. Chambers really wanted to pick you up herself," the driver explained from the front. "But the old lady suddenly got sick, so she had to rush back to the manor. Still, she was thrilled when she heard you were getting out."

Olivia simply responded with a soft "mm," her mind already flipping through every relationship the original owner of this body had.

Because the real Olivia Cunningham had died in prison.

The girl had been bullied till she broke—beaten down into depression, eventually giving up on herself. And now? The “Olivia” in the car was just a drifting spirit, wearing a borrowed body by pure accident.