The Family 132

Summary & Review: The Family

Jean Ginger was dead. A self-made woman who achieved financial freedom before thirty, her life was cut short in a tragic car accident. But instead of fading away, Jean woke up in an unfamiliar, overly frilly bedroom surrounded by stuffed toys. Her head throbbed as strange memories began flooding her mind — memories that weren’t hers. Within moments, Jean realized the unbelievable truth: she had transmigrated into the world of a book she once mockingly read online, The Real Heiress Awakens.

The story she remembered was an outrageously dramatic one about a poor girl named Sarah who discovered she was actually the real daughter of a wealthy family, the Gingers of Blairford. In her first life, Sarah had suffered greatly — betrayed, humiliated, and married to the wrong man. But after being reborn, she vowed to take back everything that had been stolen from her. She returned to the Gingers, exposed the impostor who had been living her life, and won over her powerful birth family and their love. Not only that, she even stole back her impostor’s fiancé — the male lead of the story.

It was a total wish-fulfillment fantasy: revenge, romance, and the triumphant rise of the “real” heiress. But for Jean, it was a nightmare — because she had been reborn as the fake heiress who loses everything by the end of the novel. Even worse, this character’s name was also Jean Ginger.

Still dazed, Jean checked herself in the mirror and nearly screamed. She wasn’t just the doomed heiress — she was thirteen years old. Her tall, elegant body was gone, replaced with short, chubby limbs and a round, childish face. On the bright side, she was years away from the events that would destroy her life. The real heiress hadn’t shown up yet.

Just as she was processing her situation, her phone pinged. It was a bank notification — $70,000 had just been deposited into her account. Jean blinked, counting the zeros again and again to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Seventy thousand dollars. For a monthly allowance.

Her pain, confusion, and panic melted away in an instant. In her past life, she had worked herself to exhaustion for every dollar. Now she was rich — effortlessly. She didn’t have to hustle, fight, or struggle. The only thing she had to do was exist.

“Fake heiress?” she thought with a shrug. “Fine. I’ll take it.”

Jean quickly decided she wasn’t going to challenge the real heroine or get involved in any melodramatic family battles. She knew how the story would end — the Ginger family would fall into chaos, her brothers would lose their minds, and Sarah would rise as the hero who brought them down. There was no point trying to change fate. Instead, Jean made up her mind: she would relax, play the role of a harmless background character, and enjoy her wealthy lifestyle until the plot killed off the Gingers. By that time, she’d be long gone — comfortably rich, maybe even checked into a luxury psychiatric ward if that’s what it took to survive.

But peace never lasts.

Outside her room, she heard a maid calling her name, saying that dinner was ready but she hadn’t responded. Then another voice answered — calm, deep, and commanding. It belonged to Dominic Ginger, the eldest brother of the Ginger family. The moment he entered, Jean instinctively grabbed a plush bunny and held it to her chest like a shield.

Dominic was everything his reputation promised — tall, cold, and intimidating, with sharp features that could have been carved from marble. He was dressed in a sleek, tailored suit that looked more appropriate for a business meeting than a family dinner.

Jean’s eyes darted up at him. Even though she was technically his little sister now, he looked like a completely different species. She knew from the novel that Dominic was the strict, emotionless type — a perfectionist who treated family like subordinates. He was one of the five Ginger brothers who would later become antagonists in the story, each powerful and broken in their own way.

Still, Jean decided to play innocent. She widened her eyes, her pigtails bouncing, her cheeks pink, and clutched her bunny tighter. She looked like a lost doll — the perfect image of a fragile, harmless child.

Dominic’s icy voice broke the silence. “Dinner. Now.”

Jean blinked. He talks? she thought, startled. In the original story, Dominic barely spoke unless necessary. Her inner monologue continued, mocking his stiffness — but before she could stop herself, something strange happened.

Dominic’s gaze sharpened, and he responded quietly, as if answering an invisible question. “I just got back from work.”

Jean froze. She hadn’t said anything out loud. That meant — he could hear her thoughts.

Panic hit her like a truck. She quickly forced a nervous laugh and said aloud, “Oh, okay…” trying to cover her shock. But inside, her mind was spinning. What kind of weird twist was this? Was Dominic telepathic now? This wasn’t in the book!

Dominic, meanwhile, looked just as confused. His jaw tightened as he studied the small girl in front of him. He was sure he’d heard her voice in his head — clear, childish, and slightly sarcastic — but her lips hadn’t moved. It made no sense.

The tension between them filled the air. Jean tried to smile sweetly, pretending to be the clueless little sister, while her inner voice screamed at herself to stay calm. She couldn’t afford to let her thoughts run wild if her cold, powerful brother could actually hear them.

Still, beneath the fear, another thought flickered in her mind — maybe this was her chance. If Dominic could hear her thoughts, maybe she could use it to her advantage. After all, she knew the future of every character in this story. And she wasn’t going to end up in a psych ward this time.

Not if she played her cards right.

For now, though, Jean did what any smart person would do when facing a dangerously perceptive older brother who might read minds: she smiled, hugged her bunny tighter, and quietly followed him to dinner — already scheming about how to survive in this ridiculous new world where fiction had become her reality.

Because if there was one thing Jean Ginger was good at, it was surviving — and making money while doing it.