Melina Solberg is twenty-eight when she learns she has three months to live. Her fiancé Adrian never shows up at the hospital. When she returns home, she finds him in the arms of her stepsister Lisa. She runs out in despair and is struck by a vehicle. In her dying moments, her life flashes before her: her mother Elise died saving her from a fire; her father Henrik blamed her and grew distant; her stepmother Vivian and stepsister Lisa tormented her for years, keeping her from the company and the
I am back for sweet revenge - The day of awakening, my mother's will.
The air in the underground warehouse was cold and damp again this morning. Moisture seeping from the walls mixed with the smell of cardboard, clinging thickly to the back of her nose. Two fluorescent lights flickered with a faint buzzing sound. Melina Solberg stepped into the deepest part of the warehouse. She felt the roughness of the cracks in the floor beneath the soles of her feet. The place Nikolai had been looking at yesterday. And the place the old her would have walked right past. She stood before an old shelf. She wiped away a light sweat with the sleeve of her work uniform. Her platinum blonde hair was tied back in a single ponytail again today. The silver locket at her neck bounced lightly against her chest.
She stared at the shelf. Decades' worth of documents were crammed into this place where sunlight never reached. Dust had formed layers, dyeing the entire shelf gray. And there, pushed deep into the back, sat a single cardboard box. Yellowed, with crushed corners. Clearly older than the other boxes.
Melina slowly reached out her hand. Her fingertips broke through the film of dust. A rough, dry sensation. On the side of the box, a handwritten label was affixed.
"Solberg Family — Important Documents — Strictly Confidential"
The characters leapt into her eyes. A distinctive handwriting, with a slight upward tilt to the right shoulder of each character. With trembling fingers, she traced the label. The ink was slightly faded.
(*Mama's handwriting.*)
There was no mistake. The writing of her mother, Elise, written while she was still alive. Something pounded violently deep in her chest. Her breathing grew shallow. Her fingertips went numb.
(*Mama left this—*)
(*for me.*)
She lifted the cardboard box with both arms. It was heavy. The smell of dust assaulted her nose. She lowered the box to the floor. Packing tape was wrapped around it thickly, in multiple layers. Time and moisture had discolored it brown.
"...Sorry, Mama. I'm opening it."
Her voice was hoarse. She peeled back the edge of the tape with her fingernail. With a ripping sound, the tape lifted little by little. The old adhesive clung stickily to her fingertips. One strip, then another. She continued peeling the tape away as if in prayer.
The lid of the box slowly opened.
Inside, wrapped in thick cloth, were a single diary, several letters, and a bundle of folded documents. The diary had a deep green leather cover, worn at the corners. The letters, still in their white envelopes, had yellowed to brown.
Melina gently lifted the diary. The cool feel of the leather spread through her palm. When she opened the cover, her mother's handwriting spelled out a name on the first page.
"Elise Wilson"
(*Mama...*)
Her throat tightened. She thought she might cry. But this was no time for tears. She slowly turned the pages.
The diary was densely packed with fine handwriting. Daily events, work matters, her daughter. And then, a page with a certain date.
"Vivian came to the house. This was three days before my death. We argued fiercely over the company's management policy. She said I was in the way. She also said she intended to remarry Henrik."
Melina's movements stopped.
(*Three days before her death.*)
Vivian had visited her mother. They had argued. She had even spoken of remarriage. And yet, three days later, her mother had died in a fire.
(*A coincidence? Impossible.*)
She turned further through the pages.
"I checked the fire insurance, just to be sure. The premium was suddenly raised last month. The beneficiary was Henrik. I will contact the insurance company once more. If something happens, this was no accident."
(*The fire insurance was raised just before her death.*)
Her blood ran cold all at once. The warmth drained from her fingertips.
(*That fire—*)
(*really wasn't an accident.*)
On the final page of the diary, written with her mother's forceful pen pressure, were these words:
"After my death, Melina's 38% of shares and the audit report documenting the board of directors' misconduct are in the custody of my legal advisor, Emil Strand. I want them opened when Melina turns twenty-five, or when the company is truly in danger."
(*Emil Strand.*)
(*Mama's legal advisor.*)
(*Everything is there.*)
At that moment.
*Click. Click.*
The sound of heels echoed from the warehouse entrance. Deliberately slow. As if marking a rhythm. Her heart leapt.
(*—She's here.*)
"—It's over here, Lady Vivian. This is the underground warehouse audit."
A low male voice.
"Yes. I've heard that document management has been sloppy lately. I shall confirm it myself, directly."
That polite voice with hidden thorns. The air froze.
Melina instinctively shoved the diary and letters inside her work uniform. She pushed the cardboard box back into the shadow of the shelf. Her heart was pounding against her chest. Her fingertips trembled.
(*Before she finds it—*)
(*I need to open—no, I already opened it.*)
(*I need to hide it.*)
The sound of heels drew closer. Unpleasant sweat ran down her back.
"Oh my, Melina. What are you doing down here in the basement?"
Melina slowly turned around.
Standing there was Vivian Vestman. Forty-eight years old. Her lustrous black hair was gathered into a chignon at the back of her head, a pearl barrette gleaming. Her narrow, elongated brown eyes glittered sharply in the dark warehouse. The ruby ring on her right hand shone red, like blood. A perfect stepmother's smile. But her eyes alone were not smiling at all.
"Organizing the warehouse."
Her voice didn't waver. She was surprised herself at how calm it was.
"My, how diligent. So, did you find anything interesting?"
Vivian took a step closer. The sweet scent of her perfume sliced through the musty air.
"No. Nothing yet."
"I see."
Vivian's eyes slowly swept over the depths of the shelf, as if licking it.
"You've been working quite diligently lately, haven't you? Have you finally grown accustomed to the underground air?"
"Thanks to you."
Melina straightened her back. The diary beneath her work uniform pressed heavily against her chest.
(*This woman came to probe me.*)
(*Does she realize... that Mama's records are here?*)
"Um, Lady Vivian, the audit..."
The man spoke hesitantly.
"Yes, I know. I'm only glancing through briefly."
Vivian turned her back to Melina and ran her white fingers over the documents on the shelf. Her fingertips touched the dust. She frowned slightly.
"This warehouse really is filthy. If you stay in a place like this too long, you'll never get the smell out."
The words pierced the air like thorns.
"I'll organize it properly, for the family."
Melina said quietly.
Vivian's fingers stopped for an instant.
"...Family?"
She turned around. Her mouth was smiling. But the tone of her voice had dropped a level.
"Yes. This is the Solberg family company, after all. It's been here since before I was born."
"Oh my, how admirable. That's rich, coming from the daughter of an embezzler."
The air cracked.
Melina bit her lip hard. The taste of iron spread across her lower lip.
(*If I get angry here, I lose.*)
(*The old me would have cried.*)
(*But I'm not the same now.*)
"Thank you for the advice."
She bowed her head. She didn't show her face. Vivian looked down at her for a while.
"...Well, never mind. Do be careful not to touch anything unnecessary. For your own sake."
With that, Vivian left the warehouse slowly, just as she had come. The sound of her heels faded into the distance. Eventually, the heavy door closed with a thud.
Silence returned to the warehouse.
Melina collapsed to the floor, limp. The cold sensation of the floor spread from the soles of her feet through her entire body. Her palms were clammy with sweat. Her heart was still pounding loudly.
(*I'm safe.*)
(*But there's no time.*)
She pulled the diary and letters from inside her work uniform. Her hands were still trembling.
(*I need to read through everything now, while I can.*)
(*Vivian definitely suspects something.*)
With trembling fingers, she broke the seal on the letters.
---
The next morning. Cold air enveloped the city. The sky was covered with thick clouds, looking ready to snow at any moment. Melina walked along Linden Street, relying on the address written in her mother's diary. A cobblestone street lined with law offices and accounting firms. At the end stood the Fredhavn District Court, said to be eighty-five years old.
(*Emil Strand's Law Office.*)
She stopped in front of an old brick building. The sign was small and modest. "E. Strand Law Office." Not Holt Law Office, which was under Vivian's influence. Her mother had chosen this one.
When she opened the door, a bell rang with a clear chime. The reception room was compact. An old leather sofa and a wooden desk. Bookshelves were packed tightly with thick legal volumes. An old map of Fredhavn City hung on the wall.
"Welcome."
An elderly man appeared from the back. His white hair was neatly combed back, and he wore thin silver-rimmed glasses. His posture was remarkably straight for his age. Emil Strand. The legal advisor her mother Elise had trusted most.
"May I have your name?"
"Melina Solberg."
When she introduced herself, Emil's hands stopped mid-motion. His eyes behind the glasses widened.
"Melina... Solberg. You're Elise's daughter?"
"Yes."
Emil stared at her face for a long moment, as if boring holes through it.
"...You look so much like your mother."
His voice trembled slightly.
"You remember me?"
"Of course. Until you were about five, I often saw you at your mother's office. After that fire, I never had the chance to see you again."
He exhaled deeply.
"Today, I have something your mother entrusted to me, to give to you when this day came."
Melina's heart leapt.
(*Something entrusted to him.*)
(*It really exists.*)
Emil retrieved a thick envelope from the safe in the back. It was yellowed and sealed with wax.
"By your mother's orders. 'Open it when my daughter turns twenty-five, or when the company is truly in danger.' I have kept this envelope here for twenty-three years, without ever opening it once."
He held out the envelope to Melina with both hands.
"Inside are the audit report and copies of ledgers proving the improper use of the guardianship system. Your mother gathered these herself, for you."
Melina accepted the envelope. It was heavy.
(*Mama, since twenty-three years ago—*)
(*was preparing my counterattack for me.*)
The center of her chest became a hot mass. Tears welled up from deep in her eyes. She bit her lip and desperately held them back.
"Thank you... Mr. Strand."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"It is I who should thank you. I was truly indebted to Elise from a young age. She worried about you until the very end. She truly, deeply loved you."
(*Loved me.*)
(*She loved me.*)
A single tear ran down her cheek. It was warm. She clutched the envelope to her chest.
"I will definitely put these documents to use."
She said firmly.
"Yes. Prove to the world that you are your mother's daughter. I will always be on your side."
---
When she left the office, the cold sea wind stung her cheeks. Blue sky peeked through a break in the clouds. Melina placed the envelope in her tote bag and walked toward the Harbor Promenade. The fjord's water was murky and lead-colored, gleaming coldly.
(*This time, I'll make my move.*)
(*With my own hands.*)
At that moment.
"Melina."
A low, quiet voice. She stopped walking.
The seaside promenade. Nikolai Berg stood leaning against the stone railing. The wind caressed his near-black dark brown hair. His deep greenish-gray eyes stared straight at her. He stood with the collar of his black long coat turned up, slowly exhaling white breath. Twenty-six years old. Head of Berg Capital. Her childhood friend. And the man who, in her previous life, had thrown his life away for her sake.
"You were waiting for me?"
Her voice naturally shifted to the tone she used with a frie
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