After swallowing, my throat immediately began to burn. Sarah's eyes lit up as she linked her arm with mine affectionately. "See? Nothing happened! You must've been lying before."

My whole body turned cold, and my skin began to itch.

"Cynthia, let's go downstairs and open presents!" she said, her arm still around mine. "I got so many gifts this year."

Something similar happened last year. When Sarah first came back, she had pulled me along to open presents just like now. She unwrapped an exquisite music box and handed it to me to admire but deliberately let go of it during the handoff. The music box fell to the floor and shattered.

She immediately teared up and asked timidly, "Cynthia, do you not like that I came back?"

That day, the furious Joseph ordered me to crawl to her bedroom door and write an apology letter. Thomas just watched coldly. He even punished me by forbidding me to eat for a week. In the last two days, driven mad by hunger, I desperately begged the maid and finally got a piece of stale bread.

And now, history was about to repeat itself.

The red rashes on my body had already spread to my neck, and breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. I struggled to pull my hand away.

But Sarah gripped me tightly, her nails digging into my flesh. Her tone sounded aggrieved as if I were bullying her. "Cynthia, do you hate me?"

"Let go..." My vision was turning black from pain as I gritted my teeth and shook her off.

She staggered back two steps, her knee hitting the floor. She let out an exaggerated cry of pain. She clutched her leg, tears instantly streaming down her face. "It hurts!"

Joseph's expression changed dramatically as he rushed over to help her up and examine her carefully. There was just a small scrape, and it wasn't even bleeding. But his eyes had already turned cold.

"Cynthia!" He grabbed me by the collar. "Have you lost your mind? She was just trying to get close to you!"

"She was the one who..." Before I could finish, I was shoved to the ground.

My ears were ringing, and my throat had swollen to the point where I could barely speak. But none of them noticed anything wrong with me.

"I didn't... push her..." I struggled to defend myself.

"Still making excuses?" Thomas walked over with a cold laugh. "You know perfectly well that Sarah gets panic attacks when she's hurt. How can you be so vicious?"

My vision was already starting to blur, and my heart was beating so fast it felt like it might explode.

Joseph stared at me coldly, his eyes filled with extreme disappointment.

"Cynthia, you're truly beyond help. Go back to your room and reflect!"

I looked at him, dizzy and disoriented. This twisted man's face overlapped with the one who had pulled me out of hell all those years ago. That warm young man had disappeared long ago.

"Fine." I nodded and shakily stood up, but instead of heading to my room, I turned around and walked toward the front door.

"You dare to leave?" Joseph shouted sternly. "If you walk out now, don't even think about coming back!"

I didn't stop walking.

"Cynthia!" Thomas' voice carried a warning. "You'd better think this through. You have nowhere else to go besides here!"

They had always believed I couldn't survive without this place, that I could only live my entire life depending on them. But they were wrong.

I dragged my sick body away from the mansion district. The red rashes on my skin had spread, and my throat was so swollen that I could barely breathe. I had just reached a corner of the street when I heard hurried footsteps behind me.

"Cynthia!" Sarah caught up, clutching several crumpled bills in her hand. Her face still bore tear stains, and her tone was soft and weak. "Don't leave. Joe and Tom are just too angry. If you go back and apologize, everything will be fine."

Before I could reach for the money, Joseph and Thomas had already followed her out.

"Sarah, you're too kind," Joseph said, casting a cold glance at me. "She doesn't deserve your sympathy."

Thomas let out a mocking laugh and put his arm around Sarah's shoulder. "Let her go."

Sarah looked at me with feigned hesitation, then finally sighed with regret and kept the money.

"Alright then," she said quietly. "Cynthia, whenever you come to your senses, you can always come back."

I looked at them one last time. Sarah nestled in Thomas' embrace, and a victorious smile played at the corners of her mouth. She was certain that I would never be able to return after causing this scene.

Thomas frowned as he stared at me, like he was looking at a troublesome burden who didn't know better. Joseph's expression was a mix of anger and disappointment, without a trace of wavering.

I smiled lightly and waved my hand. Then, I walked into the night without looking back.

Behind me came Joseph's furious roar. "Cynthia Sinclair! Don't you regret this!"

Regret? I had been regretting it for a long time already. I regretted that I had once naively believed they would truly be my family.

The money in my account wasn't enough for a hotel, so I returned to the hospital and curled up on a bench in the hallway. The allergic reaction was getting worse. My breathing became labored, and my whole body burned like it was on fire.

In my dazed state, I had a dream. In it, I was back to being a child.

Back then, my parents would lock me in a pitch-black closet. Belt beatings and cigarette burns were common occurrences. I never understood why they treated me like I wasn't their own daughter.

Until one day, 17-year-old Joseph came across my father beating me and yelling at me on the street. He gave my father a sum of money and picked me up.

"Don't be afraid," he said in a firm and gentle voice. "From now on, I'll be your brother."

He then brought me back to the Sinclair residence, gave me a new name, new clothes, and a new room. Thomas was Joseph's younger brother. He said that from then on, wherever they were would be my home.

During those years, they truly spoiled me like a little princess. That was until Sarah came back.

The images in my dream suddenly twisted. I pushed open a door and saw Sarah crying on the couch. She was dirty all over, and when she looked at me, her eyes were full of hostility.

Joseph held her, comforting her softly. "Don't be afraid. She won't affect your place in this family."

Thomas looked at me with a complicated expression. "Cynthia, this is Sarah, our biological sister."

Only then did I learn that when they rescued me all those years ago, it was because I looked like Sarah, whom they had lost.

After that, they became much colder toward me, but at least they didn't make me leave. I tried hard to please Sarah, thinking sincerity could earn sincerity in return. But she hated me from the very beginning.

"What gives you the right?" she whispered venomously. "You stole my life. I'll make you pay me back double."

After that, she deliberately broke Joseph's antique vase and framed me for it. She faked allergies and accused me of poisoning her. One day, she even grabbed my hand on the staircase and pushed herself down, then screamed, "Cynthia, why did you push me?"

And every time, Joseph and Thomas happened to witness it. She would cry and say, "I didn't mean to steal Cynthia's affection..."

"A fake should be grateful just to stay in this house," Joseph said coldly. "How dare you hurt my real sister?"

Gradually, everything that once belonged to me disappeared. When Sarah's friends bullied me at school, they turned a blind eye. When I was starving with stomach pains at home, they never noticed that Sarah was throwing away my food.

My pancreatic cancer probably started around that time. But at least back then, they hadn't started to hit me yet.

It started that day when Sarah said there was a stray cat in the attic. She wanted to stay and check on the situation, so she asked me to get some tools. When I returned carrying the heavy toolbox, I saw our two furious brothers holding Sarah, who had cried herself to exhaustion.

"Cynthia! How dare you?" Joseph's eyes were blazing with anger.

"Don't you know Sarah has claustrophobia and a panic disorder? You locked her in here. Were you trying to kill her?"

I frantically explained that Sarah had never told me about these conditions, but they didn't believe me at all. Even the gentle Thomas looked at me with nothing but cold hatred. That was the first time they hit me.

"Miss? Miss!"

Someone gently shook me. I opened my eyes to see the night shift doctor's worried face.

"You have a fever, and your allergic reaction is severe," she said with a frown. "Let me take you for an examination."

I nodded, my voice hoarse. "Thank you."

The test results came back quickly.

"Your condition..." She hesitated, then sighed. "You had only a week left due to late-stage pancreatic cancer, but the allergic reaction has accelerated organ failure. Now, it's two days at most."

I was stunned for a moment, then shook my head. "It's okay. But I'm so hungry. Could you get me something to eat?"

I trembled as I pulled out my phone, wanting to show her my balance. "I still have a little money."

Her eyes reddened as she poured me a cup of water and pressed it into my hands. "Drink some water first. I'll get you something to eat. No charge."

She hurried away, and I held the hot water, taking a small sip. Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Joseph, sent an hour ago.

"Sarah's worried about you and went to look for you. Apologize to her properly and stop this nonsense."

Before I could reply, the ward door was suddenly pushed open and locked with a click. I looked up fearfully, and Sarah was standing in the doorway. The fake concern on her face disappeared when she saw that the ward was empty.

"I figured you'd come to the hospital for allergy medicine. I was right!"

She rushed over and knocked the cup out of my hand with a swift motion. Hot water splashed all over me, and I couldn't help but cry out in pain.

"Playing the victim again?" she sneered. "Why aren't you dead yet?"

"Don't worry..." I gasped, my swollen throat making my voice raspy. "You'll get your wish soon enough."

"Stop lying!" She acted like she had heard the world's biggest joke. She crouched down and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at her hate-filled eyes.

"You still came to the hospital for help, didn't you? Don't pretend like you've accepted everything. I hate it when you act like that! I also hate those two idiots who lost me! They made me grow up in a common family that couldn't even afford to buy me decent clothes!"

She gritted her teeth, her expression twisted as she continued, "But I hate you most of all! You worthless bastard from who knows where, taking my place and enjoying the love that should've been mine!"

I interrupted her, my gaze empty. "Now, all that love belongs to you, doesn't it?"

"Give me a break!" She let out a mocking laugh. "They still feel some attachment to you! If they really despised you, they would've thrown you out long ago! They still care about you, and that makes me sick!"

The more she spoke, the more agitated she became. She suddenly kicked me hard, right in my agonizing abdomen. I immediately curled up in pain.

"I'm warning you not to hold onto any hope!" She kicked me again while confessing to all her past lies.

"I broke the music box myself! I threw myself down the stairs! I faked the panic attacks too and had people spread those rumors at school!"

She laughed viciously. "You think they're really stupid enough not to see through my tricks? But they choose to believe me! It's because I'm their real sister! They feel guilty for me! And you're just a tool to prove how determined they are to make it up to me!"

She spoke in a cheerful tone, then shoved me hard against the wall. "I hope you remember this lesson and never show your face around us again!"

I hit the concrete with a sickening thud, then slid limply to the floor.

"Hey! Stop playing dead!"

She kicked my leg, but I could no longer feel anything. My soul was rising from my body, with a light, floating sense of release.

"C-Cynthia?" Her voice began to tremble.

I watched her crouch down, her fingers trembling as they reached toward my nose to check my breath, but she suddenly jerked back. Her face turned deathly pale.

"No, impossible..." She staggered backward. "It wasn't me. I didn't kill her... I just lightly... S-She deserved to die!"

I watched her frantically unlock the door and flee, stumbling and crawling. I simply smiled softly.

…

The door was suddenly pushed open as the doctor rushed in carrying food.

"I made you some pasta. You..." Her words came to an abrupt halt. That was when she saw my lifeless face and vacant, staring eyes.

The food fell from the doctor's hands. She rushed to my side, her trembling fingers checking for my breath again. There was no pulse, and I wasn't breathing. Even my body was already growing cold.

"Oh God... Oh my God..." The doctor collapsed to the floor. She saw the fresh, brutal wounds on my body and immediately understood. She pulled out her phone with shaking hands. Then, using the emergency contact information from my registration, she dialed Joseph's number.

The call connected, and Joseph's impatient voice came through. "Who is this?"

The doctor took a deep breath. She was trying to suppress her tears and anger, and her voice was ice-cold as she asked, "Is this Mr. Joseph Sinclair? This is the emergency department at City General Hospital.

"Please come here immediately. Ms. Cynthia Sinclair... has been confirmed dead. We need you to identify the body."

A roar came from the other end of the phone. "What kind of joke is this? Put Cynthia on the phone! Let her talk to me herself!"