###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?

###6

But the next moment, their eyes shifted—guilt creeping in like a shadow.

“Delilah was in the accident last time… she still has nightmares,” my father said softly. “Let’s save her first. Once she’s safe, we’ll come back for you.”

I watched them, stunned.

No one met my eyes as they pried Delilah out of the car. They moved quickly, hands trembling—yet not from fear for me. Just for her.

I should’ve stopped hoping by now. But in that moment, my heart shattered anew.

They carried her away without hesitation. No backward glance.

“I was so scared! I thought I’d die and never see Mom or Dad again,” Delilah sobbed into my mother’s shoulder.

Daniel stroked her hair gently, his voice tender. My parents and brother surrounded her, all comfort and warmth.

No one remembered I was still inside.

Gasoline dripped faster now. The acrid scent filled my lungs. Fire flickered at the edge of my vision.

Desperately, I fought with the seatbelt, forcing myself through the window. Shards of glass sliced into my arms, but I kept crawling. Then—

Boom.

A wave of heat knocked me flat, searing my skin. Everything went dark.

---

When I opened my eyes again, a white ceiling greeted me.

My throat burned. Pain radiated from every limb. I was alone.

No one was sitting by my side.

Two young nurses passed by the door.

“Miss Wren is so lucky,” one said. “Barely scratched, and her family booked her a whole floor! The best specialists, top-tier care…”

“Her fiancé stayed all night,” the other added. “So handsome. So devoted. I’d trade places with her in a heartbeat.”

Their voices faded.

I lay there, heart aching. Then—footsteps.

“Ava, you’re awake.”

Daniel entered with a forced smile and helped me sit up. “Still hurting? Hungry? Want water?”

Concern laced with guilt.

I almost laughed.

You caused this. You all did. Who are you pretending for?

I forced a smile. “You look awful. Get some sleep.”

He hesitated, then lay down beside me and quickly drifted off.

His phone was right there. I picked it up. The lock screen lit up—a photo of him and Delilah. She was beaming in his arms.

I opened the album.

Thousands of pictures. All of her.

One video played automatically—her birthday. Daniel carried a cake he’d baked himself, smudging frosting on her cheek. Her brother gifted her a dazzling dress.

She giggled, hugging them both. The perfect little princess.

And me? I share her birthday.

But that day, I was humiliated in prison.

We met in college. He promised forever. The photos of our life? Deleted. Trashed. Gone.

Tears blurred my vision.

I tapped into a group chat by accident—him, my brother, and Delilah.

My blood froze.

A kidney donation agreement.

Recipient: My brother.

Donor: Delilah.

I touched the scar on my waist. My breath caught.

My brother’s message echoed:

“Back then, Delilah risked her life to save me. One day, you must risk your life to protect our princess in return.”

Risked her life?

Then what about me?

The anesthesia wearing off mid-surgery. The scalpel carving me open. The pain that never fully left.

The screen slipped from my hand. My fingers curled over my eyes, tears spilling silently.

The phone rang.

“Ava,” said Director Jake, “I’ve booked the plane tickets. We leave in four days.”

A flicker of joy broke through.

“Thank you, Director Jake,” I said quietly.

Before I could hang up, a hand seized mine.

Daniel was awake.

His grip tightened. His eyes were no longer gentle.

“Plane tickets?” he asked coldly. “What plane tickets?”