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The Family 6

The Family 6

On the main court, the boys moved like living beams of sunlight—quick, sharp, radiant.
The one who stood out the most was the boy currently dribbling down the court. He was tall, effortlessly good-looking, with pale skin and striking features—like a wildflower blooming bright and bold in the middle of a forest.
Most eye-catching of all was his head of white hair—so surreal it looked straight out of a manga.
Jean froze. And in that very moment of distraction, the basketball suddenly flew over the fence and struck her right on the head—
Thud!
Jean thought she must not have checked her horoscope this morning. It was one thing after another today.
She’d been hit by a basketball. Again.
Luckily, it didn’t hurt too bad.
Good thing she had a hard head.
“Winston, you’re insane! That shot was way too high!”
“Go check on the little girl, man. You probably hurt her.”
The white-haired boy narrowed his eyes lazily. “Too much work. You go.”
Winston?
Jean’s eyes flew open.
She hadn’t recognized him at first. This white-haired guy was none other than the host’s youngest older brother—currently a superstar in Stellarford Academy’s high school division. Winston!
The downside of having too many older brothers was that Jean could run into one just by turning a corner.
Winston had already turned away and was heading for the sidelines, putting more and more distance between them. Jean immediately took a step forward and called out,
“Winston!”
The sound echoed loudly—clear and sharp.
Every girl around turned to look at Jean, their expressions instantly hostile.
They’d seen her type before. Bold, shameless, thinking that calling Winston’s name might get his attention.
As if.
Winston never even looked at girls like that.
No matter how hard they tried, it never worked.
And sure enough, Winston didn’t react at all. It was like he hadn’t heard her.
The girls expected nothing less. Their eyes filled with mockery and disdain.
But Jean didn’t give up. She quickly spotted the court entrance, slipped in, and cut him off.
“Winston.”
She tilted her head and called him again, clear as a bell.
Everyone froze.
Even Winston, who’d been blank-faced up until now, twitched slightly.
“What the hell is this? Is she nuts?!”
The girls around the fence erupted.
“She’s so shameless, calling him by name like that. Gross!”
“She’s just trying to get his attention. What a schemer…”
“This is infuriating. Calling him by his name? Who does she think she is?”
“She should look in a mirror… trying to throw herself at him like that!”
“Winston, she said your name out loud. Aren’t you gonna say something?” Rylan smirked. He hadn’t expected this girl to be so unpredictable. He couldn’t resist teasing the white-haired boy beside him.
Like Winston, Rylan came from a prestigious Blairford family. The two had been close since childhood. Same class, played ball together, hung out all the time.
He was the only one here who’d dare joke around with Winston like that.
Jean saw Winston still wasn’t reacting, so she called again. “Winston?”
Seriously? Is this guy deaf or something?
Her clear voice floated right into Winston’s ears. He squinted a little.
His eyes looked like glass frosted with ice—cold, hard, unreadable. His lips curved into a faint smirk. His expression was striking, but distant.
“You talking to me?”
Jean nodded like a little pecking chick. She looked innocent and polite. “Yeah. That’s your name. Am I not allowed to call you that?”
Winston’s brows creased slightly. The look in his eyes sharpened. “Is that so?”
His lips curled in a cold arc, and he looked at Jean like she was a bug on the pavement.
“Why don’t you say I’m your dad while you’re at it?”
Then, without giving her another glance, he turned and walked off coolly.
“I knew it! She could plot all she wanted, but Winston doesn’t fall for that crap!”
The girls cheered, delighted by Winston’s blunt rejection.
“He hates clingy girls who act all close like that. Whiny and annoying… she really asked for it.”
“She really thought calling him that would make her special? Please.”
“Tone down the desperation, girl.”
Jean bit her lip, stunned.
What the hell! This guy’s really something else—completely shut me down in front of everyone! He seriously looked like he had no idea who I was. What the hell’s going on? That’s Winston! Have you seriously forgotten your own little sister, Jean?!

Jean’s mental rant slipped right into Winston’s ears. He stopped in his tracks.
Jean?
He did have a sister named Jean. But he was face-blind and had a terrible memory. Back when he was home, his sister rarely looked him in the eye, always kept her head down. His memory of her was vague at best.
Now that he’d been living on campus for over a year, he had completely forgotten what she looked like.
Winston pressed his lips together, then turned around and walked back.
Rylan thought to himself. Something’s up.
The girls by the fence thought. Something’s definitely up.
“You’re…” Winston narrowed his eyes, gaze sweeping over Jean, calm and assessing. “Jean?”
Jean instantly raised her hand and gave a cheerful wave like a lucky cat. “That’s me, Winston.”
Finally! The guy actually remembers me!
Winston was a little caught off guard. Kinda charmed, even.
Before he could say anything, Jean suddenly grabbed his hand. Her lips pouted, her face full of grievance.
“I came to complain. You have to help me—someone was picking on me!”
Everyone around the court looked surprised.
Even Rylan stopped joking and gave them a more serious look.
Meanwhile, the girls watching exploded again.
“She… she actually touched him! Has she no shame?!”
“I haven’t even touched his hand and she just—how dare she?!”
“Gross! What’s wrong with her?! Does she have delusions? She seriously thinks Winston’s her brother? Ever heard of personal boundaries?!”
“Poor Winston, getting stuck with a psycho!”

The Family

The Family

Score 9.9
Status: Ongoing Type: Native Language: English
The Family

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.

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