The day my biological family comes to take me home, a car accident occurs. My parents and the fake son who had been living my life all die, but my sister, Kayla Bennett, survives. She despises me completely after that and blames the company's bankruptcy on me too.

Desperate to make amends, I work over ten jobs a day, giving her every cent I earn so she can buy back the villa that has all our family memories.

The day I finally save enough money, I discover my supposedly dead parents inside that same villa, celebrating Dylan Bennett's birthday. My usually cold sister is laughing warmly with them.

As they bring out the cake, Mom mentions me. "Today's Nathan's birthday too. We've been punishing him for eight years now. Maybe we should bring him home?"

Kayla cuts her off immediately. "We agreed on ten years to make sure he never suggests sending Dylan away again. Not one year less!"

I clutch my medical report and laugh through my tears. But Kayla, I'm dying.

It took me two hours to dig through the house and find a pack of ibuprofen that might or might not have been expired. I swallowed the pills with water, hoping they'd ease the pain that felt like it was drilling through my skull.

I had just crawled back onto my small cot in the corner of the living room when my sister, Kayla Bennett, came home.

She saw me lying there with my pale face and closed eyes, frowned, and strode over in a few quick steps. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, she dragged me bodily into the spare bedroom.

The room had been turned into a memorial for our parents and Dylan Bennett, with their framed photos displayed on a small table. I'd knelt on the small rug in front of those photos thousands of times over the past eight years.

Enduring the searing pain in my scalp, I numbly dropped to my knees. Only then did Kayla release her grip, her voice cold as ice.

"Today is the anniversary of Mom's, Dad's, and Dylan's deaths. I spent all day at their graves, and you dare to lie around the house resting.

"If it weren't for you, they'd all still be alive! You'll spend your entire life making up for what you took from them!

"They've been dead because of you for eight years now. Tonight you're going to kneel here and say ‘I'm sorry’ 800 times."

But I knew she'd spent the day at that supposedly mortgaged villa, celebrating Dylan's birthday with the very parents she claimed had died because of me.

Fighting back the nausea caused by pressure on my brain, I asked hoarsely, "Why haven't you ever taken me to visit their graves all these years?"

Kayla paused, then spoke again with disgust, "Someone like you would only dishonor their memory.

"Nathan Parker, don't think you can use visiting their graves as an excuse to stall for time. If you don't apologize 800 times, you won't be allowed to sleep!"

I closed my eyes, my mind filled with the truth I'd overheard earlier.

They hadn't prepared any graves at all because they thought it was morbid. All these years, when Kayla said she was visiting our parents' graves, leaving me to kneel at the memorial until she returned, she was actually going to spend time with Dylan.

They called this my punishment, all because I'd demanded they send Dylan away after I learned about my true identity over the phone. That demand had driven Dylan to attempt suicide.

So, I carried the guilt of causing our parents' deaths for eight whole years, letting Kayla vent all her hatred on me.

A powerful force struck the back of my head, pulling me from my memories. Kayla pressed my head down, forcing me to bow repeatedly against the floor, her voice full of rage.

"I told you to bow, didn't you hear me? Nathan, do you think suffering this little bit means you've paid for what you did?"

Blood quickly seeped from my forehead, but I didn't feel much pain. Perhaps it was the ibuprofen kicking in. Before I could find any relief in that small mercy, a familiar numbness spread through my limbs, making me collapse uncontrollably.

Kayla stared blankly at me, lying on the ground, my breathing growing shallow. It took her a while to snap out of it, and she lifted me, somewhat panicked.

"What kind of episode are you having? Fine, I'll take you to the hospital first."

Just as we stepped out of the spare bedroom, her phone rang. The custom ringtone made her stop involuntarily. After a moment's hesitation, she set me down and hurried outside to take the call.

I lay quietly on the couch for a while, but eventually couldn't help myself and threw up acidic bile all over the floor. I'd heard that ringtone many times before, but only today did I realize it was the special one Kayla had set for Dylan.

While I was still dizzy from vomiting, Kayla came back with a dark expression. Seeing that I'd gotten sick on the designer bag lying on the couch, her eyes flared with even more anger, and she slapped me hard across the face.

"How dare you dirty the gift Dylan gave me! I shouldn't have gone soft on you!"

The next moment, I was dragged back to the memorial in the spare bedroom. Kayla forced me to bow while apologizing until she counted 800 times, only then releasing me when I could barely keep my eyes open.

"You stay here and kneel properly. I'll let you out when I'm good and ready."

I had no idea how long I was unconscious, but I woke up to someone knocking at the door. Stumbling to open it, I found my landlady, Amanda Jones, there to collect the rent. Before she could voice her complaints, she was startled by my blood-covered appearance.

"Oh my God, what happened to you? Come on, I'm taking you to the hospital right now."

After the examination at the hospital, Amanda looked heartbroken. "Honey, you're so young. How did you end up with brain cancer?"

Seeing how pale and thin I was, barely able to eat anything, she called her son to bring homemade soup. She then patiently fed me spoonful by spoonful.

I couldn't help tearing up. Eight years ago, when I learned that my real parents weren't the abusive couple who raised me, this was exactly how I'd imagined a mother would be.

She gently wiped my tears away. "Hey, don't cry. With the right treatment, you can beat this."

I shook my head and transferred what was supposed to be my final paycheck for Kayla to her instead. "Thank you so much, but my tumor is malignant. There's not much hope.

"This isn't enough to cover rent and the medical bills you covered for me, but I swear I'll pay you back everything."

Despite Amanda's protests, I was stubborn about it. She could only sigh as she watched me handle the discharge paperwork.

Walking past a consultation room, I suddenly heard Kayla's familiar voice. "Mom, you shouldn't have brought up Nathan yesterday. Dylan had nightmares again about Nathan trying to send him away."

Dylan's voice was thick with tears. "I'm so scared he'll come back and make me leave. If I can't stay with you guys, I'd rather just die!"

The next moment, we locked eyes through the crack in the door. Dylan immediately screamed. "He's here! He's really here to get rid of me!"

He ran to the window and leaned halfway out. "Don't send me away! I won't go back to Rick Parker and his family just to get beaten! If you don't want me, I'll just kill myself!"

Mom, Dad, and Kayla went pale with terror, rushing to pull him back inside.

Once they made sure Dylan couldn't run off to jump again, Dad and Kayla turned toward me with dark expressions. They both kicked me, knocking me to the ground before I could get away.

Clutching my stomach, I coughed up blood. Kayla suddenly grabbed my throat.

"Nathan, you actually dared to follow me here and almost cost us Dylan again? I'm going to make sure you experience the terror he just felt!"

She and Dad dragged me up to the hospital roof and tied my hands, leaving me dangling over the edge. "This is just a small lesson. Next time you scare Dylan, it won't be from this height!"

Listening to their footsteps fade away, I felt like breaking down completely.

I was the one who'd been switched at birth and abused for 18 years. I was the one related to them by blood. But just because I didn't want to live under the same roof as my abuser's son, my own biological family had been deceiving and punishing me for years.

Now they'd left me hanging outside a rooftop, leaving me terrified I might fall.

I couldn't accept this. I couldn't accept having brain cancer. I couldn't accept dying under my own family's punishment.

I held onto the rope for dear life. But to my horror, the tumor's pressure was making my right hand go numb.

My left hand wasn't strong enough. When I struggled hard, the knots around my wrists slowly loosened, and I slipped down inch by inch.

Just when I thought I was going to fall completely, Amanda's panicked voice called out from above, "He's here! Quick, help me save him!"

I'd planned to be discharged, but because of this incident, I had to stay in the hospital again. It took five days before I could go home.

The moment I opened the front door, Kayla was there with her arms crossed, giving me a dark look.

She smirked. "Nathan, you've gotten bold. You dared to throw a tantrum and run away from home? Did you think anyone would come looking for you?

"But it's only five days, and you already came crawling back. And here I thought you actually had some guts."

I looked at her and said hoarsely, "My arm was injured from hanging too long. I've been in the hospital this whole time. That wouldn't be hard for someone like you to check if you cared."

Kayla stiffened, her expression softening. "I thought Dad would go back and cut you down. Whatever, let's not talk about that.

"You obviously know now that Mom and Dad aren't dead. All these years, we just wanted to teach you some sense so you would stop targeting Dylan.

"It's clear you still haven't learned your lesson, but you're still Mom and Dad's biological son and my real brother. Starting today, you can come live with us at the Bennett residence."

Before I could respond, she quickly added, "But when you get back, you'll need to apologize to Dylan first. Promise him you'll never mention sending him away again."

I refused flatly. "I won't try to make you send him away anymore, but apologizing? Not happening."

Kayla's face darkened immediately. I thought she'd punish me like before, but seeing my pale complexion, she just gripped my wrist and dragged me to the luxury car waiting outside.

The moment I was pulled into the Bennett residence, Dylan hid behind our parents, trembling as he cried. "Kayla, are you going to help Nathan kick me out now?"

Mom and Dad rushed to comfort him. "No, no. Your sister brought him back so he could apologize to you."

When they turned to look at me, both their eyes were cold. "Get over here and kneel down. Apologize to Dylan!"

Kayla also pulled me forward. "Hurry up. If you want to come back to the Bennett family, you have to apologize to Dylan."

I stood straight in front of Dylan, my voice flat. "You don't need to worry that my being here will make Mom, Dad, and Kayla send you away. After all, you're the only family member they actually care about."

Dylan looked at me, a flash of smugness and joy in his eyes. Dad still wasn't satisfied and kicked the back of my knee, forcing me down hard.

"I told you to kneel before apologizing. Are you trying to show you won't accept our discipline?

"What you just said wasn't even an apology. Do it again!"

I winced in pain as my knee quickly swelled up. "I didn't do anything wrong. If we're talking about who owes who, Dylan owes me more."

Dad's anger flared, and he raised his hand to slap me. Kayla caught it mid-air.

"That's enough, Dad. He's much more mature than he was eight years ago. He basically just promised he won't try to make Dylan leave again. That's good enough."

Dad snorted. "I think he still hasn't learned his lesson!"

Mom softened a bit and tried to calm him down. "Alright, enough. We've taught him well enough.

"Nathan, stop kneeling. Go to your room. The third door by the stairs on the first floor is yours."

I was led to my room, and one look at the decor told me this was normally used for household staff. Dylan came in carrying a pile of clothes, smiling as he set them on my bed.

"Mom, Dad, and Kayla are always buying me clothes. I can't even wear them all. So these old ones don't go to waste, I'm giving them to you."

I picked up the pile and threw it right back at him. "I don't need them."

The light clothes hit him, but he acted like someone had thrown a brick at him. He screamed and fell backward.

Kayla immediately rushed over at the sound, and seeing him on the floor, her face darkened. She helped him up and asked what had happened.

Dylan started crying. "Kayla, don't get the wrong idea. He just thought the clothes I gave him weren't nice enough. He wasn't trying to take his anger out on me."

Kayla's expression grew even uglier, and she forced out a sinister smile. "Nathan, seems like I've been too nice to you, making you think you have the right to bully Dylan."

She grabbed a mop and struck my right hand with the handle. "This is the hand you used to hurt Dylan, isn't it?"

Another blow came down as she finished speaking. I watched the swelling appear quickly on my arm, but felt no pain. I found myself thinking that losing feeling in this hand wasn't entirely a bad thing.

Kayla hit me 20 times in a row, beating my entire right arm until it turned purple and blue. Only then did she realize I hadn't cried out in pain once.

Her grip on the mop handle tightened unconsciously, her expression complicated.

"I really don't understand why you're always so stubborn when it comes to Dylan. I'll stop here this time, but if there's a next time, I won't go easy on you."

She left with Dylan. I applied a simple hot compress to my right hand. Unable to find any medicated ointment, I just went to sleep like that.

In the middle of the night, my forehead was burning hot. The fever woke me up from thirst.

Opening my eyes, I found Kayla sitting by my bed, applying some ointment to my arm. I watched her quietly for a while before speaking hoarsely.

"Kayla, can you grant me one last wish?"

She looked up in confusion. "What wish?"

"Let me leave the Bennett residence. I don't want to die in this place, and I don't want any of you at my funeral."

A vein bulged on her forehead, and she violently threw the ointment bottle at my face.

"Nathan, do you think copying Dylan's depression and suicide threats will steal the love that belongs to him?

"I'm telling you, he's the precious child we watched grow up. You'll never compare to him!"

She slammed the door behind her. I held my nose as blood poured out and stared at the door, whispering, "I know."