I Become Her Sister in the Novel

I stood outside the bedroom door on the second floor of the Scott Group villa, my knuckles pressed against the cold wooden door, hesitating to push it open. The breathing inside was so faint, like a kite with a broken string, ready to vanish at the slightest breeze. The moment I pushed the door open, I felt as if I had fallen into a nightmare. Quincy Scott, once known as the 'Queen of Finance' in the financial world, lay face down on faded, worn bedsheets, scars crawling over her spine like centipedes. "Rachel?" She heard the movement and turned her head, her voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping against wood. I stared at her face, my heart plummeting — the right side, from brow bone to jaw, was covered in twisted scars, and her clear eyes were shrouded in a grey haze. She tried to lift her hand to touch my hair, but her arm went weak halfway up and dropped limply, smashing onto the bed frame. "It doesn't hurt," she said hastily, panic in her eyes. "Really, don't worry." I knelt down and grasped her hand, feeling the icy chill at her fingertips seep down into her bones. "Sis, your leg..." I gently pinched her calf, but there was no response — not even a twitch. Her eyelashes fluttered as she avoided my gaze. "Don't ask, Rachel. We can't beat them." "Who are they?" I pressed on, the fury in my chest flaring like gasoline, burning my throat painfully. Beside me, the old maid Nanny Clark wiped her tears. "Second Young Lady, it's Yates Luke and Vivian Lincoln! They're the richest in the Capital City, the rulers of Luke Group. One word from them could bury us without a trace!" Yates Luke? Vivian Lincoln? My mind thundered, and scenes from ten years ago surged back. I'm not from this world. Ten years ago, I was pulled into a melodramatic, tragic novel and became the sister of the malicious female villain, Quincy Scott. In the book, Quincy was arrogant and overbearing, and was ultimately tortured to death by two people working together. But the Quincy I knew wasn't like that—I failed a class while she stayed up all night catching up on notes. When thugs blocked me in an alley, she grabbed a stick to save me, taking blows to her back without flinching. I couldn't bear to watch her suffer the fate the book had in store for her, so I helped rewrite her destiny: avoiding Vivian Lincoln's traps and letting her reveal both ambition and tenderness in front of Yates Luke. Later, Yates truly fell in love with Quincy. She hugged me, smiling, "Rachel, we can finally break free from the novel." I had to return to my original world because of family matters. Before leaving, I kept reminding her, "Don't trust Yates too much; Vivian Lincoln isn't that simple." Back then, she nodded with a bright smile, saying she'd wait for me to come back so we could watch the sunset together on the mountain top. But now, we never got to see that sunset, and instead, she ended up like this. "I'll find a doctor." I stood up, my knuckles white from clenching. Quincy grabbed the corner of my clothes tightly. "Don't go. They won't let any doctors in." "Don't worry, I'll be fine." I gently pried her fingers apart and turned to leave the bedroom. I ran to the three best private hospitals in the Capital City, gave them the name "Quincy Scott," but as soon as the doctors heard "Yates Luke," they refused: "Mr. Yates has already instructed us—we don't treat anyone from the Scott Family." At the last hospital, the security guard shoved me out, and my elbow hit the steps, scraping a big patch of blood. The cold wind whipped leaves against my face as I stared at the hospital's sign, "Saving Lives and Healing the Sick." Suddenly, I laughed—how many mouths can money really silence? Clenching my fists tightly, I stormed back straight to the main courtyard—now Yates Luke and Vivian Lincoln's marital home. The carved main gate was tightly shut, two bodyguards holding tasers standing at the door, eyes glaring at me like I was a thief. Without saying a word, I took two steps back and kicked the door hard. With a loud bang, the door burst open, and Vivian's sharp scream came from inside: "How dare you! This is Yates's and my home!" I pushed the door open and walked in, immediately spotting Vivian sitting on the leather sofa. She wore a custom champagne-colored gown, the diamond necklace around her neck sparkling so brightly it hurt the eyes, but the overly lavish display couldn't hide her nouveau riche air—her fake diamond nails were too thick, and when she flicked her hand while speaking, she almost spilled her red wine. Butler Lee, who once served me and Quincy Scott, was bending down to offer her some fruit, his flattering smile making my stomach churn. "Butler Lee," I said, my voice cold as ice, "have you forgotten whose home this used to be?" Butler Lee's hand froze mid-air, and when he looked up at me, his eyes were full of shock: "S-Second Young Lady? You've come back?" Vivian Lincoln's face instantly darkened the moment she heard the words "Second Young Lady."