###3

My brother and parents turned as well, surprise flickering across their faces.

Who could it be?

Weren’t they the ones who told the prison guards to "keep an eye on" me?

I said nothing, forcing down the bitterness rising in my throat. Daniel reached for my collar, clearly trying to confirm something for himself.

Before he could, Delilah suddenly shrieked from across the table.

"My hand! It’s burning!"

She held up her finger, a faint red mark where the edge of the hotpot had touched her. Tears welled in her eyes.

The entire family sprang into action.

Her mother rushed to her side, cradling her hand like porcelain. Without hesitation, Daniel scooped her up into his arms.

“I’ll take her to the hospital,” he barked, already halfway out the door.

I turned my head away, expressionless. I’d seen enough. I was just about to leave when a voice called out behind me.

"Are you Ava?"

I turned.

A bearded, middle-aged man approached with familiarity in his eyes.

"Director Jake? You... know me?"

It was Jake Easton—the internationally acclaimed director. He laughed, stroking his beard. "Of course I do. I saw a short film you directed and starred in. You left a lasting impression. I thought—here’s someone with real talent. Real presence. I had to find you."

My breath caught. Joy surged through me, but I looked down, voice hoarse with shame.

"But... I don’t think you know—I just got out of prison..."

He looked me in the eye, calm and assured. "I know. That’s why I came today. Ava, how would you like to come to Hollywood and become a star? You’ve got what it takes."

I stared at him, stunned. For the first time in years, I felt my heart flutter back to life.

"I—I’d love to, Director Jake."

"Good!" he beamed. "We’ll leave in a week. Rest up."

A week. Just seven days until I start over.

With that faint spark of hope, I returned to what used to be home. I punched in the passcode I’d memorized long ago, but the cold, mechanical voice repeated:

“Incorrect password.”

Again and again. Still wrong.

I waited in the blistering heat, sweat soaking my back, my head swimming as the sun began to set. Just as I was starting to feel faint, they returned—carrying Delilah.

I watched as my brother stepped forward and entered a new code.

The door clicked open.

He’d changed it... to Delilah’s birthday. My birthday, too—but no one seemed to remember that.

I bit down the sting in my nose and quietly followed him inside, heading straight for my old room.

"Wait," he called after me.

"Delilah’s dog really likes your room. We’ve turned it into a pet space now. But don’t worry—Delilah picked out a new room just for you."

I stopped in my tracks.

"She decorated it herself to welcome you back. She’s even forgiven us all. You should learn from her—try being more kind."

He said it without turning around, as if even facing me for another second was too much.

He led me down the hall to the far end of the house.

The “new room” was the old utility closet. Tiny, with barely a window—more like a vent. The walls reeked of mold, and the air was damp and stale.

So this... this was what they called kindness?

Never mind. I just have to survive seven more days.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door—only to be greeted by a room full of flowers.

My throat closed up.

Pollen.

I was severely allergic.

Within seconds, I was on the floor, struggling to breathe, my skin prickling, my vision blurring. I crawled, trembling, searching desperately for my bag.

That’s when I saw a pair of designer heels stop in front of me.

"Sister, oh my—what are you doing on the floor?"

Delilah’s sweet, mocking voice rang out.

"Please... allergy medicine..." I gasped.

She followed my desperate gaze to the bag.

Then she smiled.

With a kick, she sent it skidding across the room.

She squatted beside me, leaning in close. Her breath was sugary sweet and venomous.

"Bitch, you dare come back? After everything? If I were you, I’d have smashed my head into a wall from the shame."

I tried to shove her away, wanting to scream, to ask why she’d done this.

But the moment my hand brushed her leg, she shrieked and collapsed to the ground.

Holding her leg, she burst into tears.

"Hey, why would you hit me? I tried so hard to make you feel welcome—why are you so cruel?"

That was the moment my parents arrived in the doorway.

###4

Disappointment instantly clouded my father’s face.

“Ava, you just got home and you’re already bullying Delilah again? You’re hopeless!”

“Ava, why would you do this?” My mother looked at me with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “You and Delilah are both my daughters. I’ve always cared deeply for you…”

She shook her head, gently pulling Delilah away from me with a pained expression. Delilah leaned against her, but her eyes gleamed with triumph. She mouthed silently at me: “You’re getting kicked out today.”

But what she said aloud was very different.

“Mom, Dad, please don’t blame my sister,” she said softly, her voice trembling with carefully measured sorrow. “We used our connections to make sure she had decent food and drink in prison, but she still wasn’t free. It’s only natural that she feels… bitter.”

She choked back a sob as if heartbroken on my behalf.

With each word she spoke, my father’s expression darkened further.

“Ava, you’ve learned nothing! I knew it—prison life was too easy on you!”

I could barely breathe, the allergic reaction tightening my chest like a vice. I reached out desperately. “Please… medicine…”

But my father waved me off with an impatient bark. “Enough! Since when do you have allergies? Don’t make up more lies to gain sympathy!”

My mother gave a weary sigh. “Forget it. If Ava is willing to admit her mistake, let’s just eat dinner.”

Daniel happened to be walking down the stairs. His eyes paused on me, filled with disappointment.

“Why do you always have to cause trouble for Delilah?” he muttered before continuing on.

They led the sniffling Delilah downstairs like she was the victim.

I collapsed to the floor, frantically searching for the allergy medicine through blurred vision. Finally, I found it, fumbling to unscrew the cap and shove a pill into my mouth before the suffocating pain could consume me.

It took forever for my breathing to return to normal.

I never wanted to go through that again.

I still remember the first time they discovered I was allergic to pollen—how the entire family had stayed up all night in my room, watching over me.

My brother even ordered the gardener to replace every flower in the garden with grass and shade trees. There was always allergy medicine in the house—just in case.

But now, they’d forgotten. Worse—they accused me of faking it.

A servant came to guide me to the table. The smell of rich food hit me, but all I could do was stare at the bowl of rice in front of me. I didn’t dare touch the vibrant dishes piled on the table.

Two years in prison had trained my stomach to survive on stale rice.

On bad days, when the guards were in a foul mood, we got nothing at all.

One time, they threw a hamburger into a corner.

I hadn’t eaten in two days. I crawled to the corner like an animal—but before I could reach it, a pair of steel-like hands shoved me back.

From then on, I never dared touch anything that looked “delicious” again.

Seeing me curled over my rice, my mother looked at me with concern.

“Ava, why are you so thin? Here—eat more.” She placed a hamburger on my plate, her tone soft. “This was your favorite, remember? I had it made especially for you.”

The moment I saw it, my body locked up. My breath caught in my throat. My hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

Then, I threw up violently.

“Ava!” my mother cried out, rushing to my side.

A doctor was called.

After a quick exam, he removed his stethoscope, concern etched deep into his features. “She’s exhibiting symptoms of severe trauma—either psychological or physical. Her body is rejecting even familiar stimuli.”

He paused, then added grimly, “I strongly suggest you bring in a psychiatrist. If left untreated, this could have long-term consequences.”

My mother covered her mouth, eyes wide with horror. “What… What happened to my daughter?!”

###5

Delilah’s eyes darted sideways before she scoffed.

“Doctor, stop talking nonsense. We paid the prison off—my sister lived like she was on vacation. What stress could she possibly have?”

The doctor frowned. “I’m not joking. Miss Wren is seriously ill—”

She didn’t get to finish. My brother cut her off coldly.

“Enough!” he snapped. “Dr. Linwood, you’ve been our family physician for years. Don’t tell me you’ve started lying for her now?”

His eyes turned on me, full of disdain. He looked at my pale face lying on the hospital bed and gave a cold sneer.

“Ava, what a performance. Faking illness, bribing the doctor—you’re really desperate for attention.”

Delilah’s eyes turned red. “Ava, if you really hate me, I’ll leave. There’s no need to pretend to be sick just to win sympathy from Mom, Dad, and Brother.”

Dad exploded with anger. “Not only have you failed to repent, you’ve learned to scheme. If that’s the case, forget the welcome party!”

Mom sighed, clearly disappointed. “Ava, why are you still so childish?”

Then she softened. “Don’t be angry with your sister. Just let it go this time.”

And just like that, under Delilah’s coaxing, the welcome party went on—like a performance of kindness for the girl they believed deserved it.

That morning, Delilah was the perfect picture of elegance in a diamond-studded tiara her brother gave her and a custom-made dress from a famous designer.

Me? I wore a dress she’d thrown out. It sagged on my shoulders and clung awkwardly to my thin frame.

“She came back in such a rush,” Delilah said sweetly, holding my arm, “so I gave her something to wear. I’ll buy her a new one later.”

Everyone praised her for being so generous—so beautiful, so kind. The real Wren family daughter. If I refused, I knew she’d twist it into another story that made me look ungrateful.

So I let her drag me into the car.

“Come on, sister,” she smiled, “Let’s go try on new dresses. Mom, Dad, Brother—we’ll see you at the party!”

We passed the site of the accident from two years ago. And then—it happened again.

The car flipped. My head slammed against the window. Blood poured down my face. Just before I lost consciousness, I heard a voice murmuring to Delilah.

“Everything’s ready, Miss Wren. The Wren family and Mr. Thorne have been contacted. Just wait and watch.”

I forced my eyes open. Pain seared through me. “Delilah… what are you doing?!”

She crouched beside me, smiling like it was her birthday.

“What do you think? I want you to suffer.”

Her voice was soft, her expression radiant.

“You shouldn’t have come back, Ava. I want you to see—no one loves you. Not Mom, not Dad, not Brother. Not even Daniel. Only me.”

In that moment, I thought of Daniel whispering once that he loved me. For some reason, hope flickered.

Then came frantic footsteps.

My family rushed toward us—Mom, Dad, Brother, and Daniel—faces pale, out of breath.

“Delilah! Ava! Don’t be scared—we’ll save you!”

But the car was about to explode. Smoke hissed. Fire crackled.

Daniel rushed forward, shielding himself from the flames.

Tears ran down Delilah’s face, her voice trembling with fake selflessness.

“Mom, Dad, Brother, Daniel—the car’s about to blow. Only one of us can be saved. I don’t care if I die… Please, save my sister.”

They froze. Their eyes darted between us.

And in that moment, with death looming just seconds away, Delilah and I stared at them.

Would they choose me this time?