Chapter 1

My cousin saw a viral story on the news about a woman who smashed a billionaire CEO's luxury car and ended up marrying into high society.

Naturally, she bought herself a toolkit and prepared to smash the exotic car parked in our apartment basement.

I desperately warned her that clickbait news wasn't real, so she abandoned the plan.

Yet that very night, a local girl stormed into the underground garage, smashed that exact Rolls-Royce to pieces, and boldly declared she wanted to marry the CEO.

Instead of demanding compensation, the CEO fell in love at first sight and proposed to her on the spot.

Watching this unfold drove my cousin completely insane.

She grabbed a kitchen knife, charged upstairs, and butchered me alive.

"You jealous bitch! You just couldn't stand seeing me live a good life! If it weren't for you holding me back, I would be that billionaire's wife right now!"

When I opened my eyes again, I was right back to the day she saw that viral news story.

"Anna, do you think if I smash a luxury car, I can marry a billionaire too?"

"Look, I bought this cute little pink hammer! It's guaranteed to smash glass without hurting my hands. Don't worry, once I become a wealthy socialite, I won't forget you."

As my senses returned, I found myself staring into the coy, scheming eyes of my cousin, Chelsea.

"I already did my research," Chelsea whispered eagerly. "The Rolls-Royce in our basement belongs to your boss. He's young, drop-dead gorgeous, loaded, and best of all, completely single. Once I smash his ride and stand before him in this delicate white dress, he will definitely fall head over heels for me."

Looking at her pristine white dress and the deluded fantasy plastered across her face, my entire body trembled with rage.

In my previous life, hearing her ridiculous fantasy, I had kindly tried to talk sense into her.

I told her most viral stunts were staged and that real billionaires had brains.

If she went down there and smashed a multi-million-dollar car, she wouldn't become a pampered wife.

Instead, she would drown in crippling debt and destroy her future.

Back then, my words terrified Chelsea, and she had clung to me in relief.

"Anna, thank God I didn't do it right away! Otherwise, I'd probably be rotting in jail. Daydreaming really is dangerous."

Yet that very night, a random woman from our complex rushed into the basement and wrecked that Rolls-Royce.

When the CEO showed up, he didn't demand a single cent.

He dropped down on one knee and passionately proposed to the girl right then and there.

Chelsea lost her damn mind.

She blamed me for sabotaging her golden ticket into high society.

She marched upstairs with a butcher knife and stabbed me twenty-seven times, deliberately avoiding vital organs to prolong the agony.

"You jealous bitch! If it weren't for you, I'd be living in a penthouse right now!"

She tortured me for an entire night, letting me bleed out in excruciating pain.

To cover up her gruesome crime, Chelsea inflicted a few shallow cuts on herself and ran to the police station in tears.

She told the cops that I suffered from severe clinical delusions and was obsessed with marrying rich.

She claimed that after seeing someone else succeed, I snapped and attacked myself with a knife.

According to her story, she had desperately tried to stop me and got injured in the process.

Her tearful performance was so convincing, and because there were no cameras inside our apartment, my devastated parents believed her and the case was closed.

Afterward, Chelsea and her family completely looted my parents' assets.

They drained my family's life savings and left my heartbroken parents to starve to death in utter neglect.

Remembering my own agonizing death and the skeletal, starved bodies of my parents, I dug my fingernails deep into my palms until blood trickled from my lip.

"Chelsea, go for it," I said with a faint smile. "I'll just wait for you to marry into luxury so you can pamper me too."

Chelsea's smile turned overwhelmingly smug.

"Don't worry, cousin, I won't forget about you."

"Though, honestly, with your looks, this method would never work for you anyway."

Suddenly, doubt crept into her expression, and she began pacing around the room.

"Anna, do you really think this will work? What if he doesn't like me and throws me in prison instead?"

"You've worked at his company for a while, and the owner is your boss. Give me some advice. Will this actually work?"

I gently smoothed her long black hair and guided her in front of the vanity mirror.

"Chelsea, you've been gorgeous since we were kids. I've always envied your face. But your concerns make sense too. If you're truly scared, then just don't do it."

I deliberately kept my tone ambiguous.

Chelsea was naturally suspicious.

If I told her to go or not to go, she would inevitably blame me either way.

Being ambiguous was the ultimate temptation for someone as greedy as her.

After all, becoming a billionaire's pampered wife beat rotting in a dingy rental for the rest of her life.

Sure enough, Chelsea made up her mind immediately.

"I'm doing it! If another girl could pull it off, I definitely can. Since when has any man ever escaped my charm?"

"You shouldn't even bother dreaming about it, Anna. It's not your fault you got the bad genetics in the family."

"You don't need to come downstairs with me either. We wouldn't want your face to scare the CEO away."

I nodded quickly.

That was the best-case scenario.

Go ahead and smash it.