I was streaming myself drawing on Twitch when I suddenly coughed up blood. The scene unexpectedly shot me to the top of the platform's trending list.

My brother, Alec Hawthorne, burst into my room, ripped the power cord from the wall, and destroyed the digital art piece I was moments from finishing.

My fiancé, Brodie Beckett, posted in my stream's chat, announcing to everyone that I was just faking an illness for attention and views.

I was instantly vilified across the internet. Hateful comments flooded my feed, telling me to go die.

People photoshopped my pictures into mock funeral portraits. Someone even threw red paint on my front door.

What no one knew was that I had "accelerated familial cardiomyopathy," and I only had three days to live.

On the day I died, I started one last stream.

Tens of millions of viewers instantly flooded my channel, cursing me out for being a "deplorable fraud" and condemning me for faking an illness to get famous.

But what they saw next was my heart rate monitor flatlining.

Alec and Brodie panicked, racing to the hospital like madmen and begging me not to die.

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1

The blood was a sign, I knew, that my heart failure was getting worse. After all, ever since my diagnosis of "accelerated familial cardiomyopathy," my body had been breaking down day by day.

The donations quickly surpassed ten thousand dollars. My comments section flooded with messages of concern. Maybe... maybe there were people in this world who actually cared about me.

For a moment, I was happy. With donations this high, I could make it onto the platform's top streamer chart and win the prize money. Then, I could arrange a decent funeral for myself.

Just as I was about to speak, a sharp slap cracked across my face. I stumbled and fell, stars exploding behind my eyes. My brother, Alec Hawthorne, stood over me, glaring.

"She's just pretending to cough up blood to get more attention," Brodie Beckett's voice cut in.

I looked up at him, but his gaze was cold, unfeeling.

"That's right, don't believe her. Go watch Crystal's charity stream. She wouldn't lie to you for views."

How ridiculous. I'm literally coughing up blood, and they're still plugging Crystal's stream.

"I'm not faking it," I said with difficulty, enduring the searing pain in my heart.

But by then, the comments had already turned on me. The same viewers who had just been so concerned were now hurling insults.

"Oh my God, and I actually thought she was sick."

"She's so vain. Pretending to cough up blood just to get famous!"

"We shouldn't waste our time on people like this!"

"Let's go watch Crystal's stream instead!"

Within minutes, my viewership had plummeted by more than half. Then my stream was shut down, probably mass-reported for "inappropriate content."

I wouldn't be getting the prize money today. My dream of arranging a decent funeral for myself was shattered.

"Wipe that blood off your mouth. It's disgusting," Alec said, his expression one of pure revulsion.

Brodie didn't even bother to glance at me. In their eyes, the blood was just a prop.

"Crystal's mother is sick, Georgia," Brodie said coldly. "She needs this prize money more than you do, but you just had to go after her. So don't blame us for being ruthless."

To think this was the man I'd been with for five years. The same man who once pursued me relentlessly, promising to make me his wife. Now, here he was, defending my so-called best friend.

After they left, I coughed up another mouthful of blood. The crimson liquid splattered across the white carpet. I suddenly remembered what the cardiologist had told me two months ago.

"Don't you have any family?" Dr. Alistair Finch had asked.

"They don't want me anymore," I had replied with a bitter smile.

He seemed surprised. He wasn't the first person to react that way. Every time I said it, people thought I was joking.

After all, everyone knew the Hawthorne tech dynasty doted on their adopted daughter. How could they possibly not want me?

And though they'd never said the words, in my heart, I knew they had already disowned me. My so-called best friend, Crystal, had somehow turned my brother and my fiancé against me.

Later, she convinced them I'd nearly gotten her killed just for stream views. They all believed her and felt sorry for her.

Even my mother, Eleanor, started saying Crystal was more of a daughter to her than I ever was. Crystal was considerate and thoughtful, while I was useless.

Worse, they all blamed me for my adoptive father Arthur's death a few years ago. In their eyes, I was a murderer, and they wished I would just die. I once had Brodie, but now she'd taken him, too.

"You have 'accelerated familial cardiomyopathy.' You have two months, at most," Dr. Finch had said gravely.

I swallowed a strong painkiller to stay conscious. Just then, my mom sent me a text.

"Your father's death anniversary is coming up. I don't want to see your face for the next few days. Don't come home."

I couldn't help but laugh bitterly. Forever the sinner. They would probably be happy when I died.

Later, Crystal somehow found out about my illness. On my birthday, she came to my room with a malicious smile.

"You have 'accelerated familial cardiomyopathy,' don't you? Are you going to tell them? Just you wait. I'll make everyone hate you!"

Then, at dinner, she announced she'd seen me hire someone to forge a cardiologist's report, suggesting I might have "histrionic personality disorder." Then, she casually produced a physical exam report from the Mayo Clinic showing my body's vitals were perfect.

I tried to argue, insisting the report was fake and my illness was real. For a split second, I saw panic in their eyes. But then…

"Georgia, be realistic. Are you saying the Mayo Clinic is lying? Or is it you?"

Crystal put on a look of weary helplessness at my "lies." Then, I watched as my mom's and Alec's expressions shifted from panicked concern to rage.

My mom was so furious she slapped me right there. Brodie threw the custom birthday cake from my favorite bakery into the trash, saying, "You make me sick."

"The Mayo report proves you're fine!" Mom's voice shook with rage as she slapped me again.

"You killed your father, and now you're trying to fake an illness to get our sympathy. How can you be so selfish!"

From that moment on, they saw me as nothing but a liar. I tried to explain, but they wouldn't believe me. I didn't understand where that perfect health report came from either. Not until later, when Crystal smugly showed me the transaction records from a web hacker she'd hired.

"This thing cost me a fortune. It can forge a report from any top medical institution!"

Snapping out of the memory, I dragged my aching body up from the floor. Just then, Brodie walked in.

"Let's go. We're going to dinner. And stop with the fake illness act."

He saw the bloodstains on the floor and stopped mid-sentence, his brow furrowed. "Georgia, can you just drop the act? You're only making us hate you more."

I met his deep-set eyes, now filled with nothing but disappointment.

We were high school sweethearts, went to college together, and started our careers together. When my mom and Alec were giving me the cold shoulder after my adoptive father's death, it was Brodie who held me and said, "It doesn't matter if your mom and brother don't love you. I do. I'll always love you. Always."

"And that Crystal who bullies you? I'll make her pay for it one day!"

But at some point, Crystal started joining our dates. He said Crystal was like my little sister and we should take care of her together. Our world for two became a crowded three.

Then, he went from defending me to scolding me. Crystal had just lost her family, he'd say. She was pitiful. As the "older sister," I should be more understanding. The Brodie who had promised to adore me, to love me no matter what, had vanished right before my eyes.

"Brodie, let's break up," I said calmly, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth.

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. He rushed over and grabbed my shoulders.

"Is it because I interrupted your stream today? Georgia, can't you just be a little kinder? You're already so lucky!"

"You have a brother, you have me, and your family is wealthy. But Crystal is just a poor girl being fostered by your family."

I gave a bitter smile. Me, lucky?

My brother hated me. My boyfriend was no longer just mine. Even when I told my mom I was sick, she didn't believe me.

Is this what being lucky looked like?

"I still want to break up."

The pain in my chest was intensifying. Last week, Dr. Finch told me I only had a week left. The strong painkillers he prescribed could only dull the pain enough for me to appear normal on the outside.

This past week, I had been streaming, earning donations to afford a decent funeral. I wanted to leave this world with dignity. It would be the last gift I gave myself.

"Fine. If this is what you want, then we'll break up," Brodie said, storming out in a rage.

After he left, I felt a sense of relief. To my surprise, the breakup was clean, almost sterile, lacking the heart-shattering agony I'd braced myself for.

A moment later, I received an anonymous message from Crystal.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Haha! How does it feel to watch your precious fiancé stop defending you?"

I didn't reply. I just took a screenshot of our conversation. My phone's photo album was already full of our chat logs. I hoped that one day, everyone would see the truth.

After cleaning myself up, I headed to my other home—my sanctuary whenever I felt low. It was the home of Paige Sutton. I'd sponsored her out of the foster care system, taking her in as my own sister because, in her story of being abandoned, I saw a reflection of my own.

"Georgia, you're here! I got first place in my school's programming competition!" She threw herself into my arms the moment I opened the door.

I ruffled her hair.

"You're so smart. How about I treat you to a nice meal?"

She didn't know I had "accelerated familial cardiomyopathy." I didn't want her to know. Telling anyone would only cause them pain.

"Yay! Let's go get ice cream!"

"Okay."

We always went to that ice cream shop whenever I was treating her. But I would never take her to Dick's Drive-In. I wouldn't eat there. I would never eat a burger again in my life.

After we arrived, I ordered. Not long after, Alec and Crystal suddenly walked in. Crystal covered her mouth theatrically when she saw me.

"Oh my God! Georgia, is that your child?"

I wanted to sew her mouth shut. The venom in her was bottomless.

Alec walked over, his voice sharp. "Whose child is this?"

"Hello, I'm Paige Sutton, Georgia's sister," Paige replied politely.

They fell silent. But Alec quickly found another way to mock me. "Sick enough for a stream, but well enough for ice cream?"

"Georgia, you don't even blink when you lie anymore."

With that, he and Crystal left.

Halfway through my ice cream, a sharp pain shot through my chest, and I coughed up another mouthful of blood.

"Georgia! What's wrong?" Paige cried out, grabbing me.

The pain made my head spin.

"I... I'm fine," I managed to choke out.

Just then, through my blurry vision, I saw Alec rushing toward me.

How ridiculous. Didn't he think I was faking it? Why the sudden concern?

When I woke up again, I was in the hospital. The first thing I felt upon waking was another sharp slap across my face.

I opened my eyes to find Alec glaring at me.

"Done with your act yet? You knew Crystal and I would be at that ice cream shop. You planned this whole scene, didn't you?"

"Don't hit my sister!" Paige rushed over and pushed him away.

"Paige, come here," I called out softly.

Paige obediently took my hand. Then, I looked up at this brother to whom I had no blood relation. My cheek stung where he'd hit me, but my heart ached far worse.

I'm in a hospital bed, and they still haven't told him? He's a smart man. All he'd have to do is ask a nurse, or just glance at my chart... He'd know. But he wouldn't even do that.

"Get out," I said softly.

He gritted his teeth in anger. "Georgia, you've really gone too far this time!"

He raised his hand to hit me again.

"Griff," I called out his nickname.

He froze. It was the first time I had called him by his nickname in years. It would also be the last.

"Let's cut ties. In your eyes, I'm a criminal and a liar. This way, I won't have to upset you anymore."