Allergic to Lies

1 My counterfeit sister was allergic to lies. The moment she heard one, she’d sneeze, break out in a rash, and her eyes would water. The day I was brought back to my real family, she swelled up like a balloon, a mess of tears and snot. And just like that, my entire family branded me a malicious liar. Later, when my grandmother, paralyzed by a stroke, tumbled down the stairs, I barely had time to shake my head and deny it was me. But the next second, my "sister" had a severe allergic reaction and went into anaphylactic shock. My father was furious. My mother wept and cursed me. My brother slapped me across the face. "How could the Warren family have produced such a venomous, black-hearted monster like you?" I was humiliated, punished, and tormented. It wasn’t until after I died that I finally learned her secret. … The day I was found by the Warrens, I forced myself to swallow a cup of scalding water. Only when I felt the searing, unbearable pain in my throat did I finally feel calm enough to get into their Porsche. In my last life, the moment I saw my birth parents and brother, I had thrown myself into their arms, tears of joy streaming down my face. My mother, her eyes red, kept repeating that they had finally found me. Beside her, a timid girl named Olivia said softly, "I'm so sorry, Amelia. I've been occupying your place all these years. Now that you're back, I should give everything back to you." My brother, Ethan, frowned and flicked her on the forehead. "Don't be silly. I'm sure Amelia won't mind." I quickly took Olivia’s hand. "Of course not. I'll think of you as my own sister. We'll always be a family." It should have been a heartwarming reunion. But the moment I finished speaking, Olivia started rubbing her nose. She let out a series of violent sneezes, her hands scratching furiously at her reddening arms. Ethan’s face darkened as he ordered a maid to fetch her allergy medication. My parents subtly pulled their hands away from me, their warm gazes now tinged with suspicion. I was terrified, unable to understand how my heartfelt words could have triggered such a reaction. I had heard the stories. Olivia Warren, the family’s precious daughter, had a strange affliction. She was allergic to lies. When they first adopted her, she had a severe reaction to a loyal, long-serving maid. An investigation revealed the maid was a corporate spy. Another time, at a banquet, Olivia’s incessant sneezing had stopped my father from closing a deal. It later turned out the businessman was bankrupt, and the deal was a scam. The most dramatic incident was at Ethan’s engagement party. After meeting his fiancée, Olivia broke out in a full-body rash and a dangerously high fever. In a rage, Ethan discovered his fiancée had a promiscuous past and was riddled with diseases, looking for a clean bill of health through marriage. Story after story had cemented Olivia’s status as the family's fragile, cherished treasure. They trusted her implicitly and protected her fiercely. And so, they were wary of me, their own flesh and blood. My mother, flustered, could only ask me how my life had been. I thought of the beatings at the orphanage, the bullying at school, the struggle to survive at the bottom of society. All I could say was a bitter, “The hard days are over now.” A flicker of pity crossed my mother’s face. But Olivia, despite taking her medication, didn't get better. In fact, her arms began to break out in angry, swollen hives. My mother, now truly worried, called the family doctor. The look she gave me was filled with suspicion and displeasure. It was clear she thought I was putting on an act to gain sympathy. At that moment, Olivia, ever the reasonable one, offered to give me her room, saying it was only right. 2 I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles. I shook my head frantically. “How could I possibly take your room? I didn't come back to take things from you.” Those words were the spark that ignited a wildfire. Olivia started gasping for air, clutching her chest, looking as if she were about to suffocate. Ethan, furious, shoved me away, forbidding me from getting anywhere near her. My father’s face was as black as thunder. “That’s enough for today. Mrs. Gable, prepare a guest room for her and take her there.” I watched in a daze as they all fussed over Olivia. I didn't know what I had done wrong to be so despised by the family I had longed for my entire life. From that day on, no one in the Warren family treated me with anything but contempt. I overheard the maids gossiping, calling me a liar with a rotten character, a piece of trash from the gutter who couldn't compare to their precious gem. I could only hang my head lower, becoming a ghost in my own home. The night I became their ultimate pariah, the family had gone out for a walk. I was in my room, doing my homework. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from outside. I ran out to see what had happened and found my grandmother, paralyzed by a stroke, had tumbled down the stairs, wheelchair and all. I screamed, about to rush down to help her, when the front door opened. The family had returned, just in time to witness the scene. A maid, terrified, collapsed to the floor and pointed at me. “Miss Amelia said she was taking the old madam to the garden for some fresh air, but then… then she suddenly pushed her down the stairs!” Ethan’s eyes were blazing with fury. That was his beloved grandmother. My father frantically dialed for an ambulance, his voice trembling. Outside the emergency room, the doctor said the prognosis was grim. Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head. “Please, you have to save her. I don't know what happened. It wasn't me.” But the moment the words left my mouth, Olivia, who was standing beside me, had a violent asthma attack. Her face went deathly pale, and she collapsed in a dead faint. The chaos escalated. Olivia was rushed into another emergency room. My father, gritting his teeth, ordered me to shut up. My mother just wept, praying for her mother and her daughter. Ethan, like a crazed lion, his eyes bloodshot, slapped me so hard I fell to the floor. “How many people are you going to hurt before you’re satisfied? How could the Warren family have a venomous snake like you? Is there a single word of truth that comes out of your mouth?” My mind went blank. I didn’t know why. I wanted to know what was happening, too. I had done nothing, yet I was the villain of the family. That day, my grandmother died. Olivia was moved to the intensive care unit. The Warrens had lost all hope in me. My mother wanted to throw me out and sever all ties. But Ethan disagreed. His voice was cold as ice. “An eye for an eye. She killed Grandma. I won’t let her get off easy.” From then on, I was either locked in the dog cage or hung from the second-floor banister. Ethan tormented and berated me daily. My parents turned a blind eye. I lost all hope. My will to live dwindled. One day, a maid forgot to feed the family's Tibetan Mastiff. The dog, ravenous with hunger, sank its teeth into my leg. I watched, detached, as it tore at my flesh, bite after bite. Finally, I closed my eyes and let the pain consume me. Remembering every detail of my past life, I clenched my fists. This time, I would not be a pawn in their games. I would not live a miserable, downtrodden life. 3 Just like last time, the Warrens embraced me, weeping, the moment they saw me. And just like last time, Olivia said, "I'm so sorry, Amelia. I've been occupying your place all these years. Now that you're back, I should give everything back to you." This time, however, I said nothing. I just looked at her. Her eyes reddened, as if I had bullied her, and she continued to apologize profusely. Seeing this, my family couldn't help but feel a little resentful towards me. But I just shook my head pitifully, opened my mouth, and pointed to my throat. It was red, swollen, and blistered. Their expressions changed instantly. They called the family doctor. After an examination, he confirmed it was a severe burn and would heal with time and medication. My mother breathed a sigh of relief. But the doctor sighed. "Miss Amelia has many other injuries, both old and new. I'm afraid she has had a very difficult life." At his words, my mother began to dab at her eyes with a handkerchief. A wave of guilt and pity made her voice tremble. "Amelia, my dear, you've suffered so much. From now on, your mother will never let you be hurt again." My father stood by, his gaze fixed on the latticework of scars on my body. He sighed heavily. "From now on, no one will ever bully a daughter of the Warren family again!" Ethan's jaw was tight, a flicker of compassion in his eyes. Olivia was caught completely off guard. No one was paying attention to her anymore. She stood frozen, like a lead actress whose role had been stolen. At that moment, I saw my grandmother in her wheelchair. A lump formed in my throat, and I rushed to her side. In my last life, after I died, my spirit had followed Olivia, desperate to understand what had happened. That's when I learned the truth. She didn't have an allergy to lies. She could hear people's thoughts. Whenever she sensed a discrepancy between someone's words and their true intentions, she would feign an allergic reaction to cultivate the family's protective instincts. The most terrifying thing was what I overheard her confess: years ago, my grandmother had found me and was overjoyed, preparing to bring me home. Olivia, hearing her thoughts, had, in a fit of panic to protect her own position, sicced a large dog on my grandmother. The shock had caused the stroke that left her a prisoner in her own body. And the reason my grandmother's condition never improved was that Olivia had bribed a maid. The medicine my grandmother took every night was not a remedy, but a slow-acting poison. My grandmother had seen all of Olivia's evil deeds but could do nothing, only wait for death. I pressed my face against my grandmother’s hand, tears streaming down my face. She had truly loved me, but in my last life, I had not only failed to save her, but had also inadvertently caused her death when Olivia’s bribed maid pushed her down the stairs. This time, I would save her. Though she couldn't move, my grandmother’s eyes grew moist. Ethan, watching from the side, was visibly moved and turned his head away. My parents exchanged a look of relief. Only Olivia stood in the distance, an outcast. Round one. I had won. That night, Olivia came to my room, her voice laced with malice. "Don't get too comfortable. My eighteenth birthday is in a month. Dad has already promised to give me his shares in the company as a gift. The Warren family will be mine, sooner or later." A month? I let out a low chuckle. I would make sure her eighteenth birthday was an unforgettable one. 4 I spent the next few weeks resting, and my throat healed quickly. Every night, I personally cared for my grandmother. I threw away the medicine the maid brought and replaced it with a true healing remedy. “Grandma, don’t you worry. I’ve had someone look at your case. With the right treatment, you’ll be able to speak within a month.” My grandmother blinked, a sign of her gratitude. One morning, my father and Ethan were heading out for a major business meeting. I had woken up early to make breakfast. My mother was delighted. “I had no idea you were such a good cook, Amelia. To be able to eat a meal made by my sweet daughter… this is the best day of my life.” I smiled shyly, catching a glimpse of Olivia clenching her teeth in jealousy. I brought a steaming bowl of abalone porridge from the kitchen and placed it in front of her. "I heard you're not feeling well, little sister," I said sweetly. "I slow-cooked this all night. It’s full of medicinal herbs, very nourishing. Eat up while it’s hot." But in my mind, I was thinking: This porridge is laced with pufferfish toxin. It will kill you silently. You stole my life. Now it's time to give it back. Die, you bitch! Olivia’s face went pale. She screamed and knocked the bowl over, splashing the scalding porridge all over me. Instantly, a rash broke out on her face. She clutched her throat, gasping for air, shouting that she was having an allergic reaction. The dining room descended into chaos. Ethan carried Olivia back to her room and quickly gave her an anti-allergy shot. In bed, Olivia was a picture of fragility, her eyes filled with tears. “Amelia, why did you lie? That porridge wasn’t nourishing. What did you put in it?” Ethan narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharp as he questioned me. “You still can’t stand Olivia, can you? You poisoned the porridge.” My parents’ suspicious eyes fell on me. It was just like last time. But this time, I was not flustered. I put on a look of someone wrongly accused. “That porridge was indeed a nourishing porridge I cooked all night. How could it be poisoned? Dr. Liu is an expert in pharmacology, isn't he? He can test it right now and see for himself!” Dr. Liu took a sample and performed a quick test. “This porridge contains dendrobium, codonopsis, and goji berries,” he confirmed. “All are excellent for nourishing the body. It is impossible for it to be poisonous.” The family chef also chimed in. “Many of us were watching. Miss Amelia didn't sleep all night, just to make this nourishing porridge. There was no opportunity to poison it.” At this, Olivia’s face turned ashen, and she kept muttering that it was impossible. My father, who had lost a multi-million dollar deal because of this "incident," turned a rare, furious glare on Olivia. “This joke has gone too far. You will kneel in the ancestral hall tonight.” My mother finally noticed the burns on my arms, a angry red mass of blisters. She quickly had the doctor attend to them, her eyes full of reproach for Olivia. Olivia bit her lip, unwilling to concede. "I've been allergic to lies my whole life! How could I be wrong this time? There was something wrong with that porridge!" I sighed and produced a report. It was the result of an allergen test I had secretly done on Olivia. “I didn’t want to say anything, but a few days ago, I secretly took a blood sample from my sister for testing. It turns out she’s allergic to gardenias. Have you not noticed that every time she has a reaction, there’s the scent of gardenias in the air?” My parents were stunned. They took the report and examined it closely. I then produced a small bottle of gardenia essence. “I found this under my sister’s bed just now.” The implication was clear.