Living a Second Chance as the Richest Daughter

The next morning, Anna awoke early, her body still adjusting to the unfamiliar bed. Stretching her limbs, she took a deep breath, letting the quiet of the morning settle around her. She had always started her day with light exercise—it cleared her mind, helped her focus. Even now, in a body that wasn't hers, in a life that didn't feel real, the routine grounded her.

After a quick set of stretches, she wandered over to the closet.

Shane's wardrobe was too simple.

Anna ran her fingers along the neatly arranged clothes—plain t-shirts, loose jeans, neatly pressed trousers, a few coats and sweaters. Everything was practical, neutral. Lifeless. As if whoever owned these clothes had stripped away every trace of personal style, of identity.

Then, she spotted something different.

In a separate section of the closet, elegant dresses hung, untouched and out of place. These weren't worn often. Maybe not at all.

Anna ignored them.

Instead, she picked a plain white t-shirt and loose jeans. The fabric was soft, well-fitted to Shane's body but not restrictive. She tied her hair up in a loose ponytail, grabbed Shane's phone, wallet, and a few black cards. Not that she'd need them—she wasn't planning to spend money.

She was planning to find her family—Anna's family.

After showering and changing into fresh clothes, she made her way downstairs. The maids had already set the breakfast table.

Patricia, Phillipa, and Phyllis were nowhere in sight.

Good.

Anna allowed herself to enjoy the meal without the weight of their presence pressing down on her. For once, she didn't have to act, didn't have to pretend to be someone she wasn't. She ate slowly, taking her time, savoring the flavors, as if it were the last moment of peace she would have for the day.

Once she was finished, she wiped her lips with a napkin, stood up, and headed outside.

Mr. Jing was already waiting in the parking lot.

Last night, she had asked him to take her somewhere—a place where she lived a few weeks back, right before she possessed Shane's body. 

A place she once called home.

A place where Anna had once been.

As she settled into the passenger seat, she glanced at Mr. Jing. "Thank you for doing this."

Mr. Jing, already in the driver's seat, gave her a small smile. "I'm glad to help, Shane."

Anna noted the subtle shift in his demeanor.

When they were alone, he simply called her Shane, dropping the formal 'Miss.'

But in front of Patricia and the others, he was careful, professional.

She wondered if Shane had trusted him. If, in the midst of a house full of people who barely treated her as family, he had been the closest thing to one.

Either way, she didn't mind.

Maybe it was better this way.

She leaned back against the seat, watching as the mansion's towering gates slowly disappeared behind them.

—

When they arrived at the address Anna had given Mr. Jing, he hesitated.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Are you sure about this, Shane?"

Anna didn't answer.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car.

The moment her feet touched the ground, she exhaled.

It had only been a few days since she last stood in this place. The slums sprawled before her, just as vibrant, just as disorderly as she remembered. Narrow alleys snaked between tightly packed homes, while the air carried a blend of sizzling street food, damp soil, and rusted metal.

Their house was further inside. She needed to go through a narrow alley to reach it.

Mr. Jing stepped out of the car, his posture tense. He took a step closer, concern written all over his face. "Let me accompany you, Shane. This place is dangerous."

Anna knew that.

This wasn't the kind of neighborhood someone like Shane would ever set foot in. People here would recognize immediately that she didn't belong.

But that didn't matter.

Without responding, Anna started walking.

As expected, people stared. Some out of curiosity, others with more scrutiny. A few drunk men, still nursing bottles of beer despite the early hour, let out whistles as she passed.

She ignored them.

She kept walking.

And then—

Her old house.

Her breath hitched.

It felt smaller than she remembered, despite having slept here just a few days ago. Perhaps, through Shane's eyes, Anna's home seemed tiny—insignificant compared to the vastness of Shane's grand mansion. The walls were dull and worn, the paint chipping away, and the tin roof bore the scars of countless storms, barely holding on. As she pushed the rusted gate open, it groaned in resistance. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, aged wood, and something deeply familiar—something that tugged at the edges of her heart.

This is it.

Anna's home.

Or at least, the place that had once been her home.

Mr. Jing stood close behind her, silent but alert. She could feel his watchful gaze scanning the surroundings, ready to step in if needed.

Anna hesitated in front of the door.

Would they recognize her?

No.

Not with this face.

Not with Shane's body.

Her hands trembled slightly as she raised them to knock.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then—slow, shuffling footsteps.

The door cracked open.

An elderly woman stood before her, gray strands peeking through her thin, neatly tied hair. Her eyes, weary yet sharp, traveled up, locking onto Shane's face.

Confusion flickered across them.

Then a pause.

"How can I help you?" Her grandmother's voice sounded so old. Anna didn't know that her grandmother would be here as she remembered that she lived in a province. Maybe she's here because of Anna's death. 

Anna's throat tightened.

"Lola."

She didn't say it out loud. She couldn't.

It was her grandmother—Lola Minda.

Anna wanted to throw her arms around her, to press her face into her shoulder and breathe her in. But she didn't move.

Her grandmother wasn't looking at her granddaughter's face.

She was looking at Shane.

"Who is it, Ma?"

The voice sent another jolt through her.

Her mother.

Alna.

Footsteps approached, and then, her mother appeared in the doorway.

Anna's chest ached.

Alna's eyes scanned her face, then flickered to her clothes, her posture.

"Oh." A polite smile. "What a pretty girl."

Anna swallowed back the lump in her throat.

"How can we help you?" Alna, her mother, asked, her tone polite but cautious.

She had to choose her words carefully.

If she said, I'm Anna, they wouldn't believe her.

Not with this face. Not with Mr. Jing standing behind her as a silent witness.

So she lied.

"I heard about Anna."

The warmth in their eyes dimmed instantly.

Sadness. Pain. A deep, buried grief.

"How do you know my daughter?" Alna's voice wavered slightly.

Anna took a shaky breath.

"I met her in the hospital."

The words felt heavy on her tongue, but it was the only thing she could say.

Her grandmother and mother exchanged glances, their grief surfacing in the way their shoulders tensed.

Anna clenched her fists.

She wanted to tell them the truth.

She wanted them to know she was standing right here.

But they would never believe her.

They would think she was insane.

And that was a risk she couldn't take.