The day Sierra came back from the asylum, it wasn’t raining—but I could’ve sworn she was bleeding. Three years ago, she had been the sole heir of the family—graceful, composed, perfect in a way that felt unreal. Until little “sister” Danny tearfully accused her of breaking into the nursery with a knife. Until fiancé Aaron turned his back outside the courtroom and said, “She’s been crazy all along.” Together, they sent her away. The diagnosis was clear: paranoid schizophrenia, with violent tendencies. But now, she stood in the center of my living room, dressed in black, like a corpse risen from the grave—yet more lucid than any of us. The welcome party was Danny’s idea. “Sis is home—we should celebrate.” She smiled sweetly, then casually held a bouquet of white chrysanthemums to Sierra’s nose—chrysanthemums laced with cat fur. Sierra gasped, face turning purple, staggering back and knocking over a vase. Everyone burst into laughter. “Look at her! Even her allergies are overdramatic!” But I knew—she wasn’t acting. That night, I saw her on camera entering the basement, carrying a pair of bloodstained ballet slippers—the ones that belonged to Danny as a child, the kind that should’ve been burned long ago. The next morning, Danny’s dog was dead, a half-chewed shoelace stuffed in its mouth. On the third day, the rope of the chandelier in her bedroom dangled down to the floor, with a note tied to it: *“Big sister, don’t you think this looks… suspenseful?”* Aaron finally snapped. He knocked on her door late at night. “Sierra, stop. Just let it go.” She leaned against the doorframe, smiling with blood at the corner of her lips. “Let it go? You think this is just some tantrum?” Then she handed him a video. In the footage, Danny knelt on the floor, slipping money to a doctor: “Change my medical record. Say it was my sister who tried to kill me—not that I cut my own finger to frame her.” The scene shifted—Aaron and Danny locked in a hotel embrace: “Once she’s completely broken, the inheritance will be ours.” Aaron’s face went pale. “When… when did you get this?” “When you thought I was too far gone to even whisper in my sleep,” she whispered. “Now it’s my turn to ask—you want the truth, or will you keep pretending you’re blind?” On the day of the family meeting, Sierra arrived in a wedding dress—the one she was supposed to wear on her wedding day. She stood in the center of the hall and pressed play. Every face in the room twisted in horror. Danny screamed and lunged at her—but Sierra caught her by the hair, yanking her forward and slamming her face-first against the projection screen. “For three years, you made me take pills, bleed, endure shocks… Now it’s my turn to return the favor.” She released her, then turned to Aaron. “Choose. Send her to the place I lived in—or walk in there yourself and keep her company?” No one moved. Wind swept through the hall, lifting the tattered edge of her veil. That’s when I realized— She didn’t come back. She came to settle the score. And the next one to fall—won’t be her. <font size="1">Framed by her adopted sister Denny and betrayed by her family, Sierra was locked in a mental hospital for three years. With Jonathan’s help, she exposed the truth and vanished overseas under a new identity. Three years later, she returned as the world-renowned ballerina “White Swan.” But when Denny—now crippled and vengeful—returns to destroy her again, Sierra must face the people who once ruined ...</font>