Chapter 2: Playing Their Game

My stepmom was shaken so hard her face turned red with anger. "Stop shaking!"

After breaking free, she snapped at me: "Your sister and brother-in-law died in a car accident. Why didn't you open the door!"

"The lock was broken. Mom, what are you talking about? My sister's whole family... dead?"

I pretended to be terrified, staring at my stepmom.

She instantly squeezed out a few crocodile tears, wailing pitifully:

"They died on the spot in the car accident—my poor daughter!"

But before her cries faded, she couldn't wait to push my niece in front of me, saying:

"Your sister is dead. This child can only be raised by you."

I lowered my head to look at my niece, who seemed so innocent and naive.

Such a small child, being used as a pawn for their own interests. I could see the confusion and uncertainty in her wide eyes—her little hands gripping her faded backpack like a lifeline.

Her fingers twisted the strap of her backpack, eyes darting from me to her grandma, lip trembling like she wasn’t sure who she was supposed to trust.

"Don't trust her. This child is vicious—worse than her parents."

"Exactly. She already knows her parents are faking their deaths and is here to set you up."

"So scheming at such a young age. If you adopt her, disaster will follow."

"Uncle..."

My niece looked up at me, eyes red, tears brimming. Her sniffles filled the space between us, the way little kids try so hard not to break down in front of grown-ups.

Suddenly, a thought struck me.

Ignoring the comments' warnings, I crouched down and hugged her tightly.

"Don't be afraid. Uncle will raise you."

Her shoulders shook against my chest, and for a second, I wished I could promise her the world wouldn’t hurt her again. But I knew better.

Her body was so small and fragile in my arms, her sobs pressed into my shoulder. I caught a faint whiff of bubblegum shampoo. For that brief moment, nothing else mattered.

If I was going to survive this, I’d have to play their game—and play it better.