9
1005words
According to the Sterlings, her death this time wasn't just due to poor postpartum health; crushing anxiety played a significant role.
The source of that anxiety? Easy to understand.
Even after I was brought into the Sterling fold, Sylvia hadn't given up. She'd schemed relentlessly, finding countless ways to thrust Luna back into the Sterlings' spotlight and reclaim their affection.
And every single time, I'd beaten her to the punch.
Like when Luna was eighteen months old. Sylvia suddenly showed up at the Sterling mansion with Luna, claiming the toddler had developed a passion for chess and had even solved some centuries-old, unsolvable Go puzzle. Imagine their shock when my father glanced at it and chuckled dismissively, "Centuries-old? You clearly haven't kept up with the Go world. That puzzle was solved six months ago. Jasmine and I solved it together."
At age two, Sylvia went to great lengths to maneuver Luna onto our private golf course, arranging for Uncle to "accidentally" witness Luna sinking a hole-in-one. This time, Uncle showed mild interest, smiling faintly. "Luna shows some promise. Very well. Starting tomorrow, she can come to the estate and be Jasmine's caddy."
At two-and-a-half, Sylvia pulled out her biggest stunt: she had Luna write a scathing political commentary in classical Chineseand got it published in the newspaper. The next day, that very newspaper landed on the Sterling breakfast table.
Patriarch Sterling promptly used it as a placemat under his congee.
Catching a glimpse of the article, his face twisted in disdain. "A two-and-a-half-year-old girl? Instead of nurturing proper hobbies, she's mimicking dusty old scholars writing pompous drivel? Clearly, Hugo didn't absorb a word of my previous warnings! Obsessed with manufacturing a prodigy just to one-up our Jasmine? They should know their place!"
"Since they refuse to behave with propriety," he declared coldly, "make it known: henceforth, without my explicit permission, Hugo's wife and child are forbidden from setting foot on Sterling property."
After that edict, Sylvia vanished from sight. The next news we heard of her was her obituary.
The Sterlings attended Sylvia's funeral as a family, granting Hugo and Luna their final measure of respect.
But Luna, still too naive, failed to grasp how thoroughly the Sterlings detested her constant comparisons to me. She blindly followed the original plot. Standing at the funeral entrance on a cold day, dressed only in a thin blouse, she rushed towards the arriving Sterlings, eyes red-rimmed and pitiful.
"Grandfather Sterling... Grandmother Sterling... Uncle Lucian... Luna... Luna doesn't have a mommy anymore..."
Matriarch and Patriarch Sterling remained silent. My father, having grown up with Hugo, softened at the sight of her misery. He patted her shoulder, offering comfort.
"It's alright, it's alright. Your father is still young. He'll surely find you a stepmother soon enough."
The comfort backfired spectacularly. Luna's carefully held-back tears burst forth.
But she didn't blame my father. Instead, she looked up at him with tear-filled, doe eyes, testing the waters cautiously. "Uncle Lucian... Luna doesn't want a stepmommy. Luna... could Luna come live with you at the Sterling house? Please?"
Terrified my father might succumb to her act, I jumped in immediately.
"Luna, darling," I said, my voice dripping with sisterly concern, "I understand you want a complete family. But you can't just takesomeone else's mommy because you lost yours."
Luna's head snapped up, glaring venomously at me and my mother. "I don't want yourmommy!"
"Not my mommy? Then what? My daddy?" I gestured towards Lucian. "Or my grandpa?" I pointed to Patriarch Sterling. "My grandma?" Matriarch Sterling. "My auntie?" Aunt Lydia. "My uncle?" I included him too. "Sorry, Luna sweetie, but these are myfamily. They're not for sharing."
In my past life, speaking to Luna like that would have earned me several sharp slaps across the face. This time? The Sterlings didn't bat an eye. I wasSterling blood. I was smarter, more accomplished, and harder-working than Luna. And with her protagonist halo utterly extinguished, the Sterlings weren't about to be manipulated.
"Jasmine is right, Luna," my father said firmly, his brief moment of pity gone. "Losing your mother so young is tragic. But precisely because of that, you should focus on supporting your father. Comfort him. Help him heal. Then he can move forward and find you a new mother."
Seeing the Sterlings close ranks around me, Luna's face turned a shade that rivaled her mother's coffin lining.
...
After Sylvia's funeral, thanks to my persistent whispering in my father's ear, he even found Hugo grating. He found an excuse to reassign Hugo overseas – a promotion on paper, with a hefty salary bump, but everyone knew it was a diplomatic exile lasting at least seven or eight years.
Rumor had it Luna threw a massive tantrum at home, screaming and crying, refusing to go. She was reportedly carried onto the plane kicking and screaming.
"Jasmine? Still reading? Aren't you worried about your eyes?" My father's voice interrupted my study session. He'd just finished work and was heading to bed.
"Not worried," I looked up, flashing him my sweetest, most dutiful-daughter smile. "I do regular eye exercises and get checkups. I won't get nearsighted." I added, layering on the concern, "Besides, I hate thinking of you working late all alone. I wish I could help you now, but since I can't yet, reading nearby is the best way I can keep you company."
The concern was purely tactical, of course.
My relentless drive? Luna was still the fuel. Exiled abroad, yes. But she was still the protagonist of a doting novel. Who knew if she'd come roaring back years later, reactivating her plot armor and forcing the Sterlings into idiocy, handing over the entire family fortune?
Conclusion? Securing the inheritance needed to happen ASAP.
I glanced down at the annual financial reports stuffed inside my math textbook and sighed deeply.
The succession battle is far from over. The grind must go on.
So... back to grinding.
