Aiden didn't sleep.
He couldn't.
The envelope from the suited man sat on the old kitchen table, illuminated by the flickering light bulb overhead. Emma had already fallen asleep, curled up under their one blanket, but Aiden remained frozen, staring at the documents that claimed to be his "inheritance."
The mansion.
The bank account.
The fabricated grandfather.
The rewritten family history.
All because Emma lied to look less poor in front of a classmate.
His world no longer felt like a place that obeyed rules. Reality bent and reshaped itself as if it were clay molded by a child's hands.
By his sister's hands.
Aiden dragged a shaky breath and opened the last document again—the letter "from" Alexander Vaughn.
My dear grandson…
He stopped reading. The handwriting wasn't typed. The ink bled slightly into the paper, aged with faint yellow tint. Everything about it screamed authenticity.
But it wasn't.
It couldn't be.
It was created.
"What are you doing…?" Emma's tired voice drifted from behind him.
Aiden instantly hid the documents under an old newspaper. "Sorry. Did I wake you?"
She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. "Can I have water…?"
He picked her up gently and carried her to the kitchen sink. "You shouldn't be awake. You need rest."
Emma leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'm better… because you were there."
Aiden's chest tightened. She had no idea she was reshaping the fabric of existence with every innocent sentence.
He placed her cup down and walked her back to the mattress. "Go back to sleep. Tomorrow will be better."
Emma smiled softly. "It will… because you always make it better."
Aiden froze.
A tingling wave pulsed around him—the faint shimmer of the system awakening.
[New Emotional Trigger Detected]
[Attribute Strengthened: Responsibility → Determination]
A warm force spread through his body, subtle but real. He clenched his fists.
He needed to be careful. One small sentence from Emma could create or destroy anything.
He kissed her forehead before returning to the documents.
Tomorrow…
They were supposed to go to the downtown law office to "claim" the inheritance.
A fake inheritance made real.
But Aiden had to go. If this reality was rewriting itself piece by piece, he needed to understand how far the system could go.
Even if it terrified him.
The Next Morning
Emma was still weak, but she insisted on walking.
"I'm okay, Aiden. I can go!"
"No," he said firmly. "You stay home. You need to rest."
"But—"
"No."
His voice was gentle but unbreakable.
Emma deflated like a small balloon. "Fine…"
Aiden hurriedly prepared instant porridge and left her with water, snacks, and a small handwritten note:
I'll be back soon. Don't open the door for anyone.
He placed his jacket over her legs like a blanket and stepped outside.
The moment he closed the door, his legs felt heavy.
It was time to face the consequences of Emma's lie.
The Car That Waited
A black sedan was waiting below their apartment building.
Aiden's heart seized.
The same suited man from yesterday stepped out the moment he approached.
"Good morning, Mr. Cross. Please get in. Our office is expecting you."
Aiden hesitated for one long moment.
If he refused—
Would reality break?
Would the system force the world to adjust again?
Would something dangerous spawn?
He had no idea.
So he got in.
The Ride to the Impossible
The city rolled past the windows as the sedan moved smoothly through traffic. Aiden was hyper-aware of every detail—the driver's posture, the suit man checking something on a tablet, the faint beeping from the car dashboard.
Everything appeared too real.
"Mr. Cross," the suited man said, "I hope you've reviewed the documents. Your grandfather's estate is significant. Many responsibilities will fall to you, but our firm will assist with all transitions."
Aiden had to ask.
"How long… were you representing my grandfather?"
The man replied without hesitation: "Our records show the partnership started in 1998. Before your birth."
Aiden's blood chilled.
"How old was he?" Aiden pushed.
"Ninety-four. Quite remarkable longevity."
Aiden looked out the window to hide his expression.
A ninety-four-year-old man had been created as a permanent part of history.
A law firm with decades of records had been inserted into reality.
A timeline had been rewritten so seamlessly that neither of these men suspected anything was wrong.
Emma didn't just lie objects into existence.
She could generate entire timelines.
Entire histories.
Entire lives.
Aiden forced his breathing to stay steady.
I have to protect her. No one can ever know.
The Law Office
The sedan pulled up in front of a towering building of steel and mirrored glass. The reception area inside was lavish—polished floors, indoor waterfalls, gold accents.
Aiden felt out of place.
He felt like a ghost inside someone else's life.
"Mr. Cross, welcome."
The receptionist smiled warmly. "We've prepared a conference room for you."
Prepared.
As if they had been waiting for this moment for years.
Aiden followed the suited man down a hallway into a high-ceilinged room with a long table. Several documents were neatly arranged, each stamped and filed meticulously. A silver pen lay in the center.
"Please sign these to assume full ownership of the estate."
Aiden sat slowly.
His hands trembled.
His entire life he struggled just to afford a week of food. And now reality itself bent to place a pen of wealth into his hands.
He picked it up.
It felt heavier than steel.
If he signed, he would complete Emma's lie. He would solidify its existence, locking it into permanence.
But refusing…
What would happen?
Would the system reject his choice?
Would reality glitch?
Would the inheritance destabilize?
The system's faint hum surrounded him.
Aiden whispered, "What do I do…?"
And the system answered.
[Host must decide.]
[Emma Cross's assertion has already shaped the world.]
[Non-completion will cause reality conflict.]
[Completion recommended.]
Aiden clenched his jaw.
He had no choice.
He signed.
Every stroke of ink felt like a chain being pulled tighter around his life.
When he finished, the suited man bowed with respect.
"Congratulations, Mr. Cross. You are now the legal owner of the Vaughn Estate."
Aiden felt dizzy.
This was all too large. Too heavy.
But the day wasn't over.
"Would you like to visit the mansion?" the man asked pleasantly.
Aiden's heart stopped.
The mansion.
The estate born from a lie.
"I…" He swallowed. "Take me there."
The Mansion That Shouldn't Exist
The drive took nearly an hour. They left the city and entered an area with massive trees, private roads, and security gates.
Aiden sat rigid in the backseat.
"This place is…"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
The sedan passed a checkpoint where guards in uniform saluted the car.
Guards.
Aiden's mind spun.
If they were real… if their training records, salaries, and employment histories existed…
Then the system didn't just create isolated objects.
It created networks.
Systems.
Lives.
And then—
The trees parted.
Aiden's breath caught in his throat.
A mansion stood at the end of the road.
White stone.
Vast windows.
Columns towering like those of an ancient palace.
Lawns that stretched far beyond sight.
It was beautiful.
It was terrifying.
And it should not exist.
The car stopped. The door opened.
"Welcome home, Mr. Cross," the suited man said.
Aiden stepped onto the marble walkway.
He felt like the ground might crack beneath him, exposing the lie underneath.
He whispered, "Emma… what did you create…?"
The suited man walked ahead. "Let me show you the interior."
Aiden forced his legs to move.
He entered the mansion—
And froze.
Portraits lined the hallway.
Portraits of "Alexander Vaughn"…
Portraits of Aiden's supposed childhood he never lived.
Paintings of a baby that looked like him.
A family history that didn't belong to him.
The system had generated an entire lineage.
Aiden's vision blurred. His breath quickened.
He stumbled back against the wall.
"Mr. Cross?" the suited man asked with concern. "Are you unwell?"
Aiden shook his head weakly. "I… I just need a moment."
He couldn't pass out here. He couldn't show weakness. If these people thought he was unstable, questions would come.
Questions he could never answer.
He pressed a hand over his pounding heart.
I have to hold it together. For Emma. For her safety.
The suited man smiled reassuringly. "We'll prepare tea."
Aiden forced himself back to the center of the hall. He stared at the portraits again.
If this mansion was real now…
If this estate legally belonged to him…
If their past was rewritten into the world…
Then…
Emma's power wasn't just altering the present.
It was rewriting the past.
Aiden swallowed hard.
He had to get back to her. He needed to make sure she was safe, healthy, fed, protected. Above all—
He needed to stop her from lying again.
Just one word from her could create a catastrophe that reality would be forced to obey.
He stepped outside and called a taxi—he couldn't travel with the firm anymore, not until he understood the truth.
Thirty minutes later, he was back in the city.
Twenty minutes after that, he climbed the stairs to their apartment.
He opened the door—
"Emma?" he called softly.
But the apartment was silent.
Too silent.
Aiden's heartbeat spiked.
"Emma?" He stepped further inside.
Then he saw it.
The window was open.
And the small blanket he left on her had fallen on the floor.
And on the table—
A note, written in messy child handwriting.
Aiden, someone knocked on the door… They said they know our grandfather.
Aiden's world shattered.
Emma was gone.