My younger sister, Mindy Sampson, has a rare blood condition. She needs regular blood transfusions and a bone marrow transplant.

My husband, Ian Huffman, and I are matches.

My mother says we should draw lots. Whoever draws the short stick will become Mindy's blood donor.

In the next five years, I am always the one who draws the short stick.

Because of constant blood draws and bone marrow extractions, my body breaks down.

Before I die, I stumble upon Ian holding Mindy and saying, "Cindy is so stupid. There are only short sticks in the container. Every time, we let her draw first. How could she ever get a long one?

"She is going to die without ever knowing you are not sick at all. Once she dies and we get the insurance money, we can travel the world."

When I open my eyes again, I am back in the fifth year after Mindy is diagnosed.

I look at the container of sticks on the table and smile.

Then, I look at Ian and say, "This time, you draw first."

Ian Huffman froze at once, a crack appearing in his otherwise flawless appearance.

"C-Cindy? What's the point of determining who goes first at a time like this? We're family—"

"Since we're family, does it really matter who goes first anyway?" I asked, interrupting him while leaning forward and staring intently into his eyes.

"Or, could it be that you're afraid of something? Or maybe you messed with the matchbox somehow, and you're worried that you'll get exposed when you draw the lot?"

Ian shuddered hard.

When Mom saw that I was being reluctant about it, she glared at me and said in a displeased tone, "Cindy Sampson! Mindy is still waiting to be saved! How could you act up like this now?

"I was the one who put this matchbox together. How could I have possibly messed with it? Just say it if you don't want to save your sister. Stop making sarcastic accusations about Ian!

"Don't you know how much Ian had been running around for Mindy's sake over the past few years? What if he gets the short lot if we made him draw first? How else is he supposed to go to work and support the family?

"You're not working anyway and just idling away at home. You should feel honored to go first and even more so if you're chosen to give your blood to her!"

Ever since I was young, Mom often lectured me about being grateful and feeling honored to be chosen to contribute to the family. However, she had always thought of me as the family's number-one enemy ever since Dad's death.

"You jinx! You got your dad killed, so you'd better atone for your sins by contributing to the family even more! You should give your blood to your sister for the rest of your life!"

I had always been weighed down heavily by her words, and it always filled me with guilt and a feeling of inferiority, as if I owed my family something.

So, every time I drew the short end of the stick from the matchbox, I would always lie down on the operating table without a single complaint.

However, it wasn't until after my death that I realized my guilt never managed to earn a shred of compassion from my family.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts and looked at them with a cold glint in my eyes.

"I've always been the one drawing lots first for the past five years, and each time, I always drew the short stick.

"You're Mindy's brother-in-law, Ian. You also care about her. So, this is also another way for you to show your sincerity…"

I shoved the matchbox toward Ian.

"You're in good health. You'll be recovering in no time. In fact, you can just go ahead and donate this time without even going through the draw."

Ian immediately shot to his feet so forcefully that the chair he'd been sitting on overturned behind him.

"Cindy Sampson! I can't believe how selfish you are!"

He pointed his finger at me, trembling a little.

"I never said that I was unwilling to donate blood to Mindy, but everything should be done fairly! The rule we set up back then had been agreed upon by all of us. How could you just change it now, all because you wanted to?"

Mindy Sampson, my younger sister who'd been in her room, coughed slightly just then.

"Cindy… Ian… Please don't fight anymore…"

She shuffled out of the room, leaning against the doorframe with her face and lips all pale.

If I hadn't been reborn, I would probably still have been convinced by her current sight that she was indeed very sickly and ill.

Yet, after my death, my soul still lingered on earth for a while. I watched her remove her zombie-like foundation, apply some red lipstick to her lips, and celebrate happily with Ian halfway across the world with a few pops of champagne.

"It's all my fault… I shouldn't be dragging everyone down with me…"

Mindy's tears began to fall. "Don't force Ian anymore, Cindy. If it really isn't working… then I'll just give up on the treatment. I'll just die and go find Dad in the afterlife."

Mom's expression turned darker at the mention of Dad's name.

She immediately rushed up to me and raised her hand to slap me.

"You heartless wench! Your sister is dying, and you're still trying to make up excuses to delay her treatment?

"Have you already forgotten how your dad died last time? If it weren't because he was rushing home to celebrate your stupid birthday with you, he would never have gotten into that horrible accident!

"Isn't it bad enough that you got your own dad killed? You're going to watch Mindy die without helping her too? How could you be such a vile, vicious bitch?"

I raised my hand and grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her from actually hitting me.

Mom was taken aback. She seemed shocked that I, who had always been so docile toward her, had somehow learned to fight back and stand up for myself.

My voice was eerily calm. "Dad died because the other driver had been driving on the wrong side of the road. The traffic police had made it exceptionally clear in the report.

"You've also been using Dad's death to blackmail and threaten me into submission countless times for the past 20 years.

"My debit cards are in your hands. I bought a house and a car for the family. I even donated my blood and bone marrow to Mindy for five years."

I then flung her hand away and continued in an icy tone.

"But I'm not stupid. Ian Huffman, since you're so insistent on being fair, then let's be fair until the end."

I emptied the matchbox onto the table, and two sticks of matches fell out. One was long, and the other was short.

Ian's eyes doubled in size at once. How was that impossible?

He clearly remembered putting two short matchsticks inside the box. It wouldn't have mattered which stick I chose because they would both have been short!

I looked at the two matchsticks on the table and grinned.

"Shall we draw some lots?"

Ian glared at the two matchsticks on the table like he wanted to bore holes into them. Small beads of sweat began forming on his forehead.

Of course, he'd never dare to draw lots.

Actually, while shaking the matchbox in my hand earlier, I had hidden away one of the short matchsticks and replaced it with a long matchstick that I had prepared beforehand.

It was the oldest magic trick in the book. I learned the trick while in a hobby club in college, and I never thought that I would end up using it here.

Now, there was one long matchstick and one short matchstick in the box. However, he had no idea which was the long one and which was the short one.

If he drew the short one, then he was going to have to donate his bone marrow to Mindy. But he didn't want to do it! And most importantly, Mindy wasn't even sick in the first place!

"Go ahead. Draw it," I said, urging him. "Mindy's still waiting for you to save her life."

Ian immediately turned to her for help. Mindy just chewed on her lower lip as her eyes glimmered slightly.

Suddenly, Ian clutched at his stomach and let out a painful wail, his face scrunching into one of absolute pain.

"Ow, shit…"

He folded over, looking absolutely miserable. "I can't… I just… I have a terrible stomach cramp… It hurts too much…"

Mom immediately got anxious and held him up.

"How could you get a stomach cramp at such a crucial moment? Quick, sit down and rest for a bit!"

She then turned around to glare at me. "See what you've done to Ian! He's suffering from cramps after overworking himself, taking care of you for so many years!

"We're not drawing any lots today. Ian is not feeling well. That means you're still going to be the one giving blood this week!"

I took out my phone.

"A stomach cramp? Let me just call 911 now and ask the doctor to give you a full physical exam in the meantime to see if you're a suitable candidate for bone marrow donation, Ian."

As soon as Ian heard about the physical exam, he immediately straightened up and exclaimed, "There's no need for that! This is just a recurring symptom from the past. I'll be fine with some meds."

"But how could I let that be?" I said, pressing the dial button. "You know that health is the most important thing after all. You still have to take care of me and Mindy in the future. You can't afford to collapse just like that!"

Mindy panicked when she saw I was really about to call for an ambulance.

She suddenly rolled her eyes up and collapsed to the ground in a soft heap.

"Mindy! Mindy, what's happened to you!" Mom screamed as she rushed over to her.

Ian couldn't be bothered to keep up with his sick act anymore and rushed over to pick Mindy off the floor. "Hurry! We have to get her to the hospital as soon as possible!"

…

Mindy was placed in a single VIP ward.

Her hospitalization fees alone over the past few years had been astronomical, and the weight of all of those fees had always fallen on my shoulders in the past, of course.

I arrived at the hospital but didn't go straight to her ward. Instead, I walked over to the nurse's station and swiped Mindy's recent medication list when nobody was looking.

Then, I went around to the hospital's back entrance leading to the trash disposal area.

The trash from Mindy's VIP ward was wrapped in special plastic bags, and sure enough, I found several torn-up packaging boxes inside.

They weren't chemotherapy drugs, nor were they anti-rejection drugs. Rather, they were just vitamin tablets and common iron supplements.

Ironically, I also found the bones and remains of some fried chicken, along with several crumpled-up boba milk tea receipts.

I took out my phone again and took photos of all the evidence, storing them away.

Just as I was about to leave, I heard familiar voices drifting from the hallway.

It was Dr. James Bean, Ian and Mindy's main physician.

"Cindy has been acting strange today. She insisted that I draw lots," Ian said, sounding annoyed.

"What are you afraid of? We can do whatever we want once she's under anesthesia in the operating room," Dr. Bean replied.

"I'm just afraid that things will get complicated if we wait any longer," Ian replied in a low voice. "That accident insurance policy will take effect soon. Something just needs to happen to her while she's on the operating table…"

"Don't worry about it," Dr. Bean said with a sinister smile on his face. "Medical accidents happen all the time. I can guarantee that she'll never come off the operating table as long as you pay me."

I hid in the corner and felt a chill run down my spine.

I have been Mindy's personal blood bank ever since she "fell ill" five years ago, and my body was already at its limit.

I had been afraid that I wouldn't be able to last for a long time, and I didn't want Mom to die at a miserable old age with no money to her name, so I bought an insurance policy and named her as the only beneficiary.

However, I never imagined that this very insurance policy would turn out to be my death warrant after all.

I gripped my phone tightly as the recording light continued flashing red.

When I returned to Mindy's ward, she was leaning back weakly against the headboard, eating the oat porridge in her bowl.

Mom was feeding her lovingly and affectionately the entire time.

A dark look appeared in Ian's eyes as soon as he caught sight of me. However, he quickly put on a gentle expression and said, "You're here, Cindy."

His tone carried a deliberate attempt to ingratiate himself. "I didn't mean to be so rude and impatient with you earlier. Don't take it to heart."

I rolled my eyes inwardly when I saw the obviously ill-intentioned look in his eyes.

"What did the doctor say?" I asked.

"The doctor said that Mindy's condition has worsened," Mom said, wiping her tears away. "She must undergo bone marrow transplant surgery immediately! It can't be delayed any further!"

She continued crying while stealing glances in my direction, worried that I wouldn't buy her performance and agree to her request.

"Yeah."

Ian sighed. "You and Mindy are both sisters. You can't possibly bear to watch her suffer like this, can you?"

He paused for a bit and softened his tone even more.

"Mindy will get better as soon as this transplant is over, and you'll finally be free from it all. You won't have to continuously donate blood to her every two weeks anymore after that.

"And when you're finally recovered enough, we'll go on a trip around the world."

I looked at his expectant eyes and suddenly chuckled. "Sure."

The three of them were shocked. They probably never thought that I would agree to their request that easily.

"Really?" Mom was overjoyed. "Cindy! You've finally come to your senses!"

"However, I have a condition."

"What is it?" Mom asked, feeling uneasy about it.

"I want the bone marrow donation surgery to be broadcast live on the internet."

"Live?" Mindy squealed in terror. "No way! I'm too ugly to be shown on camera! I can't be on TV!"

"What's more important to you, Mindy? Your face? Or your life?" I asked, sounding earnest with my plea.

"Also, with the media paying attention to the surgery, the hospital will definitely send its best team of experts, and the success rate of the surgery will be much higher."

Ian exchanged a glance with Mom.

Mom was still hesitant about it. However, Ian gritted his teeth and spoke first.

"Then, we'll do as you say!"