Living a Second Chance as the Richest Daughter

Anna didn't go downstairs for dinner.

Mr. Jing brought her meal to her room instead, as if it was routine for her to eat alone—another unspoken rule in this house.

He had arrived not long after Patricia and Phyllis left her standing in the foyer, the sting of the slap still lingering on her cheek. As soon as he set down the tray, Anna turned to him, her voice low but firm.

"Has she hit me before?" she asked.

Mr. Jing hesitated, his usual composed expression flickering just slightly.

Anna pressed on. "Her. Phyllis. Phillipa. Have they hurt me before?"

Silence.

And that was enough of an answer.

Anna's hands clenched into fists. "Why didn't you stop them?"

Mr. Jing let out a quiet sigh, his gaze unreadable. Then, with the same careful restraint he always carried, he simply said, "It is not my place."

Anna's chest tightened. Not his place.

So this was just how things were. Patricia ruled this house, and no one—not even the people who saw what was happening—dared to defy her.

Anna swallowed back the sharp bitterness rising in her throat.

This wasn't her world.

But it felt wrong—unfair—how they carried themselves with such power when Shane was the legitimate daughter. Shane was supposed to have authority over them, yet somehow, she had become nothing more than an outcast, unwanted even by her own father.

If this was the second chance Anna had been given, then she wasn't going to waste it.

Shane deserved her rightful place in this house.

And Anna would make sure they never hurt her again.

After finishing her dinner, Anna decided to explore Shane's room.

Everyone around her saw her as Shane—addressed her, treated her, and expected her to be Shane. If she was going to survive in this house, she had to play the part.

She might not remember Shane's past, but that didn't matter.

If the old Shane was weak, then she would be different now. Stronger. Braver.

And she would make sure no one in this house ever walked over her again.

The first thing Anna explored was Shane's study table.

A sleek, modern desk sat against the wall, with two monitor screens glowing faintly in sleep mode. To the side, a neatly arranged bookshelf held an impressive collection of books—titles that seemed complex, intellectual, and far from casual reading. Anna scanned the spines, trying to get a sense of Shane's interests.

Everything in the room was meticulously organized, almost too perfect, as if it had been arranged for display rather than daily use.

Anna ran her fingers over the desk surface, her mind wandering.

She may not have been able to attend university, but she had finished high school with honors. And she had always been sharp, quick to learn, and adaptable.

If she was going to survive in Shane's world, she needed to understand more than just the people around her—she had to know what Shane knew. What she studied, what she liked, what kind of life she lived when she was alone in this room.

Anna pulled out the chair and sat down, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. The dual monitors reflected her face back at her, a face that still felt unfamiliar despite seeing it in the mirror all day. Taking a deep breath, she wiggled the mouse, and the screens came to life.

A login screen.

Of course.

Anna frowned, staring at the password prompt. What would Shane's password be? Birthdays? Too obvious. A favorite book? A phrase she liked? Anna had no idea.

Her gaze flickered to the bookshelves again. Titles on psychology, business, law. There were a few novels tucked between them, but they were classics, the kind of books assigned in school. Nothing too personal.

Her eyes then landed on a small corkboard beside the desk. It was mostly empty except for a few pinned notes, a calendar marked with appointments, and a single photograph. Anna leaned closer.

The picture was old, slightly faded, showing a young Shane standing next to a man. He was tall, with sharp features and an authoritative presence—even in a simple shirt and slacks, he exuded power.

Her father.

Samuel Tiu.

Shane looked small beside him, no more than ten years old, and yet something about her posture seemed tense. The man had one hand on her shoulder, but it wasn't a warm, fatherly touch—it was a grip.

Anna traced the edges of the photograph with her fingertip. This man had abandoned his own daughter in favor of Patricia and her children. And now, Shane was nothing more than a forgotten piece of furniture in this house.

A surge of determination burned in her chest.

No.

If this was the second chance she had been given, she wasn't going to waste it. She wasn't going to live as a shadow in her own home.

Anna turned back to the computer.

"Alright, Shane," she murmured under her breath. "Let's see what kind of life you were living before I got here."

She placed her fingers on the keyboard and typed the first thing that came to mind.

S-H-A-N-E-T-I-U

Incorrect.

She frowned. Then tried again.

S-A-M-U-E-L-2-0-0-5

Incorrect.

A small smirk tugged at her lips. So Shane wasn't predictable. Good.

Anna scanned the desk once more, looking for anything that might give her a clue. A notebook sat at the corner of the table, neatly closed. She reached for it and flipped it open.

Inside, there were pages filled with notes, reminders, even small sketches in the margins. But what caught her attention was a particular sentence written over and over again in neat, careful handwriting:

"No one is coming to save me."

Anna inhaled sharply.

The words struck something deep in her chest, an ache she couldn't quite place.

She stared at the sentence, feeling the weight behind each letter. Had Shane written this as a reminder? A warning? A truth she had accepted?

Anna's grip tightened around the notebook.

She wasn't Shane.

But if no one had come to save her before—

She would change that now.

Taking a deep breath, she closed the notebook and turned back to the monitor.

One more guess.

N-O-O-N-E-I-S-C-O-M-I-N-G

The screen blinked.

Then—

ACCESS GRANTED.

Anna's heart pounded as the desktop loaded.

Shane's world had just opened up to her.

Anna suddenly felt a rush of excitement, an odd thrill curling in her stomach even in Shane's body. This was it—her way into Shane's world, her way to understand what had been stolen from her.

The desktop wallpaper was a plain black background, simple and unassuming. But the moment the screen fully loaded, Anna's gaze darted across the neatly arranged icons.

Some applications were unfamiliar, while others she recognized. There were folders labeled Documents, School, and CompSci.

She clicked on Documents first, searching for notes or a journal—anything that might give her insight. But the folder was empty.

Frowning, she moved on, opening a few applications she knew, but there was nothing particularly special about them.

Then, her eyes landed on the School folder. Curiosity flared. Did Shane attend university? What was she studying?

With a steadying breath, Anna clicked it open.

Inside, she found several subfolders, each labeled with the name of a different subject.

Anna's fingers hovered over the trackpad as she scanned the subject names. Mathematics, Literature, Business Management, Computer Science.

Her brows furrowed. Computer Science? That caught her attention. She hadn't expected Shane to be studying something so technical.

Clicking into the folder, she found a collection of files—lecture notes, coding assignments, and project documents. Anna opened one at random, her eyes skimming over lines of code. It was complex, far beyond anything she had ever worked with.

So, Shane wasn't just a rich girl—she was smart, too.

A strange mix of emotions stirred in Anna's chest. She wasn't sure if it was admiration, intimidation, or something else entirely.

Backing out of the Computer Science folder, she continued exploring. Most of the other subjects contained standard coursework, essays, and research papers. But just as she was about to close the folder, she spotted something unusual—

A hidden folder.

It was faint, almost blending into the background, as if it had been deliberately concealed.

Anna hesitated. Her pulse quickened.

With a deep breath, she clicked it open.

Inside was another folder, ominously titled: "Don't open if you don't code."

Anna's brows furrowed. She didn't know what it meant, but curiosity got the best of her. Ignoring the warning, she clicked it open.

Immediately, a program launched, and lines of code flooded the screen.

The text scrolled rapidly, a cascade of symbols and commands she barely understood. Some of it looked familiar—basic programming structures—but most of it was beyond her knowledge.

Her heartbeat quickened. Was this just a school project? Or something more?

She tried to close the window, but instead of disappearing, the screen flickered, and new text appeared.

"Access denied. Unauthorized user detected."

Anna stiffened. A chill ran down her spine.

What had she just stumbled into?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, uncertain. The cryptic message on the screen made her pulse race, and a creeping unease settled over her. Not knowing what else to do, she quickly shut off the computer. The screen flickered once before going black, as if whatever she had seen had never existed.

Taking a shaky breath, Anna stood and glanced around the room.

At first glance, it was immaculate—too perfect. The elegant bookshelves were dust-free, the furniture was arranged with precision, and every decoration was carefully curated. Framed awards and certificates lined one wall, polished and perfectly aligned. It looked like the room of a model student, an obedient daughter, someone with a flawless, carefully constructed life.

But Anna wasn't fooled.

This wasn't just a bedroom. It was a stage. A carefully crafted facade.

She moved toward the bookshelf, trailing her fingers along the smooth wood. The books were arranged neatly—too neatly. Some looked untouched, their spines unbroken, as if they had been placed there for display rather than use. Her gaze shifted to the framed photos on the desk. One showed Shane as a child, standing beside Samuel Tiu. The man's expression was unreadable, his hand resting stiffly on Shane's shoulder. There was no warmth in his eyes, no fatherly affection.

Anna swallowed.

This room may have looked like a museum—a shrine to perfection—but it felt hollow. Like it was meant to hide something.

And Anna was starting to suspect that Shane had hidden more than just a secret folder on her computer.