Chapter 2

Susan' s face was a mask of fury.

"This is impossible! There must be a mistake!" she shrieked at the technician, a bland-faced man who looked utterly unimpressed.

"The assessment is 99.9% accurate, madam," he droned, already turning to the next family.

Jessica was staring at me, her mouth agape. The SRO-LPA was already settling in, a faint haze of placidity trying to smooth over her shock. But the greed, the envy, that was pure Jessica.

"You... how?" she stammered.

I just looked at her. What could I say? That I'd spent my brief afterlife replaying every mistake, every betrayal? That her selfish grab for what she thought was an easy life had handed me the keys to my own?

"It's the LPA, dear," I said, my voice calm. "It chose me."

Susan grabbed my arm, her fingers digging in like claws.

"You did this somehow! You manipulated the system!"

Her voice was low, venomous. In public, she was all smiles and concern. In private, the monster always came out.

I remembered. Oh, I remembered.

I was the unwanted child, the one who wasn't the pretty, biddable doll Susan had envisioned. Jessica was her star, her project. I was the afterthought, the scapegoat.

Mark, my father, was a shadow, a sigh of disappointment. He wanted a son, or at least a daughter who fit his narrow definition of success. I was neither.

Jessica learned early that she could do no wrong in their eyes. Her smallest achievements were lauded; her cruelties to me were dismissed as "sibling rivalry" or, worse, my fault for "provoking" her.

She broke my toys, I was careless. She spread rumors about me, I was too sensitive. She hit me, I must have deserved it.

Susan and Mark watched it all, enabling it, sometimes actively encouraging it.

The HPI-LPA in Jessica's first life hadn't changed them. It just gave them a new way to exploit her. They took her money, her time, her energy, until there was nothing left but a husk for the AHPOB to claim.

My SRO-LPA had made me their perfect domestic slave in Ethan's house, a source of secondhand prestige. Until Jessica' s dying breath dragged me into the fire with her.

Now, Susan was dragging me towards the exit, Jessica trailing behind, a confused pout on her face.

"We'll get this sorted out," Susan hissed. "There are ways to manage... problematic LPAs."

I knew what that meant. Suppression. Control. Breaking me until the HPI-LPA was a forgotten whisper.

Not this time.

Jessica, meanwhile, was already adapting to her new SRO reality.

"Mom, can we go shopping? I need a whole new wardrobe if I'm going to meet influential people."

Her voice was softer, less demanding than usual, but the underlying assumption of entitlement was still there. The SRO-LPA was supposed to make her docile, but it seemed to be amplifying her focus on superficial comforts.

Susan, momentarily distracted from her fury at me, looked at Jessica. A flicker of something – calculation? – crossed her face.

"Yes, dear. Of course."

They both conveniently forgot I was even there.

As we walked out into the too-bright sunlight, I felt the HPI-LPA settle within me. It wasn't a surge of power, not yet. It was a quiet click, like a lock disengaging.

A lock on my own potential.

Jessica was chattering about designer brands. Susan was already scheming.

I let them.

They had no idea who they were dealing with anymore.