"I didn't bother with him, so he dragged that flatbed cart off by himself. Wore himself out completely. If you ask me, he brought it all on himself."

"The pigs were sick—just slaughter them and be done with it. Why go through all that trouble?"

Percival let out a snort of laughter.

"Those two pigs had to weigh at least two hundred pounds each, right? Gotta hand it to my brother—he's really something else."

"Still, good thing he hauled them off to the vet. Otherwise, I wouldn't have touched meat from sickly pigs!"

Percival took Norma's hand, and the two of them emerged from the back room laden with shopping bags. My body went colder than before.

Norma was a school principal—a respectable position with a decent salary.

But only I knew that more than half of what she earned went to the students at her school who couldn't even afford to eat.

Our life together had been painfully meager. Some months, we didn't see a single scrap of meat.

I'd felt sorry for her. I'd bought two runty piglets at a discount from a farm owner and raised them with care.

When they got sick, no one was more frantic than me. I'd hauled them on a flatbed cart to a town dozens of miles away to see a vet.

Blisters formed on my feet, but I didn't stop to tend to them. Every penny saved was another dose of medicine for those pigs.

But they still didn't make it.

I would never forget that weekend—Norma had asked me to come home, then told me both pigs had died and she'd disposed of the carcasses.

I'd blamed myself for so long. I was convinced that my decision to save money on a pair of cloth shoes by bringing the medicine home to inject them myself had been a fatal mistake. That my incompetence was why Norma couldn't even have meat on the table.

Never once did I imagine that she'd given those pigs to Percival—as a gift to curry his favor.

And now, looking at the bags of supplements in Norma's hands—every single one expensive—where was the woman who supposedly couldn't afford meat?

Tears surged to my eyes. For her deception. And for my own stupidity.

Norma spotted me too. Instinctively, she moved to hide those pricey supplements behind her back, but Percival gripped her arm and held her in place.

He even shot me a look of pure provocation.

"Hey, bro. I haven't been feeling well, so Norma picked up some supplements for me. You don't mind, do you?"

His words seemed to hand Norma a ready-made justification. Before I could even open my mouth, she was already frowning at me.

"Duane! Percival is your own brother! He fainted at the train station from low blood sugar. What's wrong with me buying him a few supplements?"

I said nothing. But the young nurse behind the pharmacy counter chose that moment to speak up.

"Sir, did you still want that burn ointment?"

"It's not expensive—eighty cents a bottle, and it lasts a long time!"

I looked at the bags of supplements in Norma's hands. Then I looked at the fifty cents I'd been clutching in my palm—money I'd scraped together over weeks.

A bitter smile crossed my face. I thanked her for her kindness.

"No, thank you. I can't afford it."

I walked out of the pharmacy. Norma's expression turned ugly.

Percival was right there to fan the flames.

"Norma, you make at least thirty or forty a month, right? You couldn't afford a bottle of burn ointment?"

"Looks like my brother's still holding a grudge over what happened back then. He's deliberately trying to humiliate me!"

"Fine. I'll just leave."

Percival made a show of crying and turning to go. Norma's face went cold. She strode forward, blocked my path, and demanded that I apologize to Percival.

I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

"Why should I apologize?"

Norma's reasoning was impressively self-righteous.

"All these years, Percival stayed away to spare your feelings."

"He finally comes to visit, and you treat him like this—embarrassing him in public? What kind of brother are you?"

"What should a brother be like, then? Should he just let his own fiancée steal his college acceptance letter and run off with his brother without saying a word?"

"Or should he pretend to be deaf and blind when he knows perfectly well that his brother and his wife have been carrying on behind his back?"

I couldn't hold back any longer. Every grievance I'd bottled up came pouring out. But Percival's eyes went wide, tears streaming down his face.

"Duane, I know you hate me, but you can't slander me like this!"

"There's nothing between me and Norma—nothing! If you don't believe me, I'll prove my innocence with my life!"

He pulled out a bottle of pesticide, shoved it into my hands, and forced my grip toward his mouth, as if he truly intended to die to defend his honor.

But the moment his fingers closed around mine, he leaned in close to my ear. His voice dropped to a whisper only I could hear.

"Brother, you're so pathetic. Both women you've loved only ever wanted me. Tell me—if I drink this today, do you think Norma will send you to prison?"

My pupils dilated. I never imagined Percival's mind could be this twisted.

I tried to wrench my hand free, but Norma rushed over and yanked Percival away from me. Her glare could have cut glass.

"Duane Fox! Enough! Do you have to drive him to death before you're satisfied? How can any man be as vicious as you?"

"Forcing your own brother to drink pesticide—why don't you drink it instead?"

In her fury, Norma seized my jaw, wrenched it open, and poured the pesticide down my throat.

It was bitter—so bitter. I tried to spit it out, but she pinned me to the ground, her foot grinding into my burns. I couldn't move.

By the time the entire bottle had been forced down my throat, my face had gone white as paper. My throat felt like it was being sliced open from the inside. But she had already turned away to comfort Percival.

"It's okay now, Percival. No one's going to hurt you anymore."

Percival nestled against her, a smug smile playing at the corner of his lips. Then he spat out a few mouthfuls of white foam and collapsed.

The acting was so clumsy that anyone could see through it. But Norma didn't hesitate. She scooped him up and rushed toward the nearest clinic.

She didn't even glance back at my weak cries for help.

All I could do was watch as I vomited a mouthful of blood—then more, and more, gushing out like a fountain.

A kind stranger passing by carried me to the clinic.

The doctor said I only had one kidney. My metabolism was compromised. I needed IV treatment immediately to flush out the toxins.

But Norma and Percival had ended up at the same clinic.

Percival clutched his throat, wailing in pain.

"Norma, my stomach hurts so bad. Am I going to die?"

"Get the doctor—save me! I don't want our baby to be born without a father!"

Panic flooded Norma's face. She intercepted the doctor who was about to operate on me.

"Doctor, he's been poisoned. He only has one kidney—I'm afraid he's in danger. Please operate on him first!"

The doctor looked at me uncertainly. "But we have another patient here. He also only has one kidney..."

Norma barely spared me a glance before making her decision.

"I know him. He's my husband. He's fine—he's faking it."

"But Percival actually drank pesticide. If you don't operate now, he'll die!"

She held up our wedding photo. Between the picture and her words, the doctor was convinced.

They abandoned me and wheeled Percival into the operating room.

I was left behind, vomiting more and more blood. Terrified, I grabbed Norma's hand and begged her to bring the doctor back.

"Please—I only have one kidney. My body can't filter out that much poison..."

Norma wrenched her hand free. The look she gave me was the look you'd give your worst enemy.

"Duane Fox! Haven't you had enough of this act?"

"When I was critically ill, it was Percival who donated a kidney to save me! Now you've driven him to poison himself, put his life in danger, and you want to steal his doctor?"

"Fine! Since you love performing so much, I'll give you something to perform about!"

Norma dragged me off the hospital bed and drove her heel into my body over and over.

I curled up on the floor like a dog, begging her to stop, but it was useless.

Only when the operating room light flickered back on and Percival was wheeled out did Norma finally stop her near-frenzied assault, rushing over to fuss over him.

Percival leaned weakly against her, but his words were calculated.

"Norma, I'm fine. Maybe you should have the doctor check on my brother."

"Even if he's faking it, he's still my brother."

His words were gasoline on a fire. Disgust flashed through Norma's eyes.

"Check on him for what? You just got out of surgery—you need the doctor here."

"As for that piece of trash who has to compete with you over everything? He'd be better off dead!"

Norma carefully guided Percival toward his room, but her words drove into my chest like a blade.

But I didn't die. Penelope Whitney—the daughter of the man who used to buy my study guides—happened to pass by and found me. She called for help immediately, and I was rushed to the emergency room.

I survived. But my one remaining kidney had completely failed. I needed a transplant, and fast.

"The patient previously underwent kidney donation surgery, which compromised his metabolic function. With proper care, one kidney would have been sufficient. Unfortunately, he ingested a large amount of toxins."

"Not only was treatment delayed, but he also sustained blunt force trauma. Even the strongest kidney couldn't withstand that."

I knew the truth. My wife, Norma, had destroyed my only kidney with her own hands.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror—gaunt, hollow, wasted. I should have had a healthy body. Now I had nothing.

And without a donor, even my life would be taken from me.

My feelings for Norma had been my undoing.

Tears fell before I could stop them. Penelope saw them, and her fists clenched.

"Duane, I know everything that happened. I'm going to make that monster Norma pay!"

I shook my head.

"She'll never admit to it."

And even if she did, what then?

Could she give me back a healthy kidney? Could she return the three years I'd lost?

No. I wanted her to lose what she cared about most. I wanted her to live in agony, every single day.