Living a Second Chance as the Richest Daughter

Anna returned to Shane's family mansion feeling drained, her entire body weighed down by exhaustion. The ride back had been silent except for the occasional sniffle as she wiped away her tears. Mr. Jing sat beside her the whole way, not saying a word, though she could feel his watchful eyes on her—filled with unspoken questions.

Everything that had happened was still too much to process. Her mind spun with thoughts she had no answers to.

She had lived in poverty, struggled to survive, and given up on dreams of going to university just to keep her family afloat. Now, she was dead. Or at least… her body was.

But then she woke up in Shane's body.

It didn't make sense. None of this made sense.

If she was here—then where was Shane? Did her soul linger somewhere, lost? Was she watching all of this unfold? Or was she simply… gone?

Why was Anna in Shane's body? How had this happened?

Was this some kind of twisted nightmare? Or worse—was this a horror story playing out in real life?

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted when she stepped through the grand entrance of the mansion, only to be greeted by Phyllis, who stood waiting like a predator ready to pounce.

"Where have you been?" Phyllis demanded, her arms crossed, eyes sharp with suspicion.

Anna barely spared her a glance. She had no energy for pointless confrontations. She needed time—time to think, time to breathe.

But Phyllis wasn't one to be ignored.

The sharp sting came so suddenly that Anna barely processed what had happened. A slap.

Phyllis had slapped her.

Anna froze, the heat spreading across her cheek. In her past life, she had never tolerated disrespect. If someone hit her, she hit back. And right now, she wasn't just Anna anymore—she was in Shane's body.

So before she could even think twice, her hand moved instinctively.

The loud smack echoed through the hallway as Anna's palm struck Phyllis's face.

Phyllis staggered back, eyes wide in shock. "How dare you?!" she screeched, holding her cheek.

Anna's own cheek still burned, but she felt a strange satisfaction knowing her slap had been harder. "You slapped me first, and you're asking me that?" she snapped, her voice dripping with defiance.

"You bitch!" Phyllis shrieked, lunging at her.

Anna barely had time to react before Phyllis's hands tangled in her hair, yanking hard. Pain shot through her scalp, but Anna wasn't about to just take it.

With years of survival instincts kicking in, she reached up, grabbed Phyllis's hair, and pulled just as hard.

The hallway filled with screams as they tugged at each other's hair, both refusing to let go.

But Anna wasn't the same weak, spoiled rich girl Phyllis was used to bullying. She had grown up fighting for everything in her life.

So instead of playing this childish game of hair-pulling, she suddenly released Phyllis's hair and—without hesitation—drove her fist into Phyllis's stomach.

The impact sent Phyllis stumbling backward, gasping as the air was knocked out of her.

She clutched her stomach, doubling over. Shane had never fought back before. But this? This wasn't the Shane she knew.

Anna stood firm, watching Phyllis struggle to recover. Her hands were still trembling from the adrenaline, but she refused to back down.

"If you touch me again," she said, voice cold, "I won't hold back next time."

Phyllis lifted her head, her face twisted in a mixture of rage and disbelief. But before she could say anything, footsteps echoed from the stairwell.

Someone was coming.

The sharp, rhythmic clicking of heels against the marble floor shattered the thick silence that had fallen over the grand hall. Anna barely had time to step back before a cold, commanding voice sliced through the tension like a knife.

"What the hell is going on here?"

A tall, imposing woman stood at the top of the sweeping staircase, her icy gaze flickering between Anna and Phyllis with quiet menace. Dressed in an elegant, tailored black dress that accentuated her sharp frame, she radiated authority—the kind that made the air itself feel suffocating.

Patricia.

Shane's stepmother. Phyllis and Phillipa's mother. The mistress of this house.

Anna had sensed the woman's danger from the moment they met at the hospital. She knew it from the way Shane's body reacted whenever Patricia was near. There was something calculated about the way Patricia carried herself—something cold and ruthless that sent an instinctive warning through Anna's gut.

Phyllis, who had just been groaning from the blow to her stomach moments ago, immediately straightened up. The pain on her face vanished in an instant, replaced with an expression of well-practiced innocence. She dabbed at her eyes as though she had been gravely wronged, her voice trembling as she whined, "Shane attacked me. I was just trying to talk to her, and she hit me."

Anna narrowed her eyes. Liar.

Patricia's gaze shifted sharply to Anna—no, Shane. There was no warmth there, no concern. Just cold scrutiny.

"Is that true?" Patricia's voice was smooth but firm, carrying the weight of an unspoken threat.

Anna hesitated. If she were smart, she'd stay quiet, lower her head, let this moment pass.

But she wasn't Shane.

And she had never been the type to stay quiet.

"She slapped me first," Anna stated, her voice steady despite the thundering in her chest. "So I slapped her back."

Phyllis gasped, clutching her chest in mock outrage. "She's lying! Shane, I was just worried about you! And this is how you treat me?!"

Anna let out a sharp scoff. "Worried? You mean grabbing me and attacking me? If I hadn't fought back, you would've kept hitting me."

A tense silence filled the air. Patricia's expression remained unreadable, but there was something calculating about the way she studied Anna.

Then, without warning, Patricia moved.

SLAP!

The force of the slap jerked Anna's head to the side. A burning pain spread across her cheek, but before she could even process the blow, Patricia struck her again.

And again.

By the third strike, Anna's cheek was completely numb, but the ringing in her ears drowned out everything else.

Her fists clenched at her sides.

Patricia finally stepped back, her lip curling with distaste. "You've certainly grown bold, Shane." Her voice was eerily calm, but there was an underlying sharpness to it. "But it seems you've forgotten what I can do to you."

The moment Patricia's palm connected with her cheek, Anna's mind reeled from the impact. The sharp sting spread across her face like wildfire, and yet—something felt off.

She was shocked. Horrified, even. But Shane's body?

It barely flinched.

There was no instinctive recoil, no reflexive step backward, no wide-eyed disbelief that usually accompanied such an act of violence. Instead, her body simply took it, as if it were second nature.

As if it had happened before.

And that realization hit Anna harder than the slap itself.

Patricia didn't just hit Shane. She had beaten her before. Probably more times than Anna could count.

Her stomach twisted. A sickening wave of anger and nausea rolled through her as her cheek throbbed from the assault. But it wasn't just the pain that made her chest tighten—it was the cold, unwavering response that Shane's body had given.

Because while Anna's mind screamed in outrage, Shane's body didn't even flinch.

This isn't new to her.

Anna clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. The urge to lash out, to fight back, burned hot in her veins, but she forced herself to stay still.

Because this wasn't about her.

This was Shane's life. And now, she was the one trapped in it.

Anna slowly turned her face back to Patricia, the taste of iron lingering on her tongue.

Patricia stepped closer, her grip on Anna's chin tightening as she sneered down at her. "You think you can stand up to me now?" she mocked. "Did you forget who feeds you? Who lets you live in this house?"

Anna barely heard her. Her mind was still stuck on the horrifying truth:

Shane had learned to take hits.

She had learned to endure.

And that only made Anna's blood boil.

A bitter laugh bubbled in Anna's throat. If only this woman knew the truth. If only she knew that Anna—not Shane—had never needed her charity. Had never needed anyone's charity.

But she wasn't Anna anymore.

She was Shane.

And in this house, Shane was powerless.

Anna took a slow breath, steadying herself. If Patricia expected her to cower, she was in for a surprise.

"I haven't forgotten," she said, her voice calm despite the sting in her cheek. "My parents owned this mansion long before you came here. I know exactly who this house belongs to—and I'm done taking shit from anyone."

For a split second, something flickered across Patricia's face—surprise, perhaps? But it vanished before Anna could be sure.

Patricia let out a low, humorless laugh and released Shane's chin. "Oh? So you've finally grown a spine?"

Then, without warning, she stepped forward again, seizing Anna's chin in a vice-like grip, forcing her to meet her gaze. The pressure was nearly unbearable, her sharp nails digging into Anna's skin.

"Let me remind you, Shane," Patricia murmured, her tone deceptively soft, "you can pretend to be strong all you want, but in this house, you are nothing. A pathetic little brat that nobody wanted. The only reason you're back in this house is because Samuel pities you. Your father doesn't love you anymore."

Anna's jaw clenched.

Rage swirled in her chest, but she shoved it down. Patricia wanted her to snap, wanted her to lash out.

Instead, Anna forced a slow smirk, her lips curling just enough to show defiance.

"Funny," Anna mused, her voice dripping with mockery. "I thought I was still here because you needed someone to take your frustrations out on. Because, whether you like it or not, I'm still a Tiu. And even if my own father doesn't love me, he can't ignore the fact that I'm his only heir."

Patricia's grip tightened dangerously before she abruptly shoved Anna backward.

"You better learn your place," she said icily, "before I make you regret ever opening your mouth."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode away, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she disappeared down the hall.

Phyllis, who had been watching the whole exchange with glee, smirked from the side.

"Big mistake, Shane," she taunted, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Then, with one last sneer, she followed her mother upstairs.

Anna stood frozen, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Patricia was worse than she had imagined.

And if she wasn't careful…

She wouldn't just be trapped in Shane's life.

She'd be destroyed by it.