My ovarian cyst ruptured, sending excruciating pain through my body. But my parents, my brother, and even my fiancé were all busy celebrating my sister Faith's college graduation.

I lay in a hospital bed, desperately needing a family member's signature for emergency surgery, but every call I made was either ignored or met with an abrupt click.

A moment later, a text from my fiancé, Garrett Prescott, lit up my screen.

"Willow, stop being so dramatic. Today is a huge day for Faith. Whatever it is can wait until the party is over."

I set my phone down and signed the surgical consent form myself.

This wasn't the first time they had chosen my sister, Faith Vaughn, over me. But this time, something inside me shattered.

I wouldn't let their favoritism sting me anymore. Instead, I would play the part of the obedient daughter they always wanted.

They would think I had finally learned my place, never suspecting I was planning to disappear from their lives forever.

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1

For three days in the hospital, my phone remained silent. Not a single message from my family.

I didn't call them again either. I stopped the years-long habit of refreshing their social media feeds, searching for any sign of them.

I just lay there, dragging my weak, post-operative body to follow-up appointments and paying my own medical bills.

The day I was discharged, I didn’t tell anyone. I silently packed my things and, through the stabbing pain in my abdomen, shuffled home.

When I pushed open the front door, the cheerful laughter in the living room instantly froze.

They were all there. My fiancé Garrett's arm was casually draped over Faith's shoulder as he sat nestled beside her on the sofa.

The moment he saw me, he snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned, a guilty smile flashing across his face. "Willow, you're back! Where have you been the last few days?"

My brother, Mason Vaughn, let out a cold snort.

"Where do you think she's been? Sulking somewhere because she didn't want to come to Faith's graduation party."

"She can never stand to see Faith happy. Always has to ruin the mood."

I said nothing, heading straight for my room.

Mason looked surprised that I didn't fight back. Usually, a simple accusation of selfishness from him would send me into a spiral of desperate, tearful explanations.

But this time, I was silent.

My mother approached, holding out a milkshake.

"Willow, honey, we were all so wrapped up in Faith's graduation the other day that we missed your calls. You're not mad at us, are you?" She pressed a peanut butter milkshake into my hand.

My heart was already numb, but a dull ache still throbbed within it.

I’m severely allergic to peanuts. Faith loves them.

So, the house was always stocked with peanut-flavored snacks and drinks. But no matter how many times I told them, no one ever remembered I couldn't even touch them.

I tried to hand the cup back to my mother, taking a small step away. "I'm not angry. I'm just going to my room."

The moment I turned, a loud bang echoed through the house.

My father had shot to his feet, slamming his palm on the coffee table. He roared, "Why the long face the second you walk in? Your mother apologized and even brought you your favorite drink!"

"What's with the attitude? We've spoiled you absolutely rotten!"

My chest tightened until even breathing hurt.

Tears blurred my vision, but I took the cup from my mother's hand and downed the entire thing in one long swallow.

Then, I gently set the empty cup down, wiped the tears from my eyes, and looked at my father with unnerving calm. "Faith is the one who likes peanut butter. I'm allergic."

"But it's okay. I've finished it. Can I go to my room now?"

"Willow! Why didn't you say you were allergic? Who told you to drink it? Why must you be so stubborn!" my mother shrieked, panicking as she patted my back frantically.

My father looked embarrassed but stubbornly retorted, "Well, you could have just said something!"

"You're always so difficult. Nothing like Faith. At least she knows how to talk to people."

From the sofa, Faith's voice drifted over. "Dad, don't say that to Willow. You'll hurt her feelings."

Her voice was gentle, but the triumphant glint in her eyes was impossible to miss.

This was Faith’s favorite game: using my flaws to polish her own halo. She competed with me for everything, never satisfied until I was utterly crushed.

I should have been heartbroken, but my heart was just a hollow cavity. Even this humiliation couldn't faze me anymore.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It won't happen again."

As the words left my lips, everyone in the room just stared at me, stunned into silence.

My sudden obedience caught them all off guard. After a tense silence, my father finally spoke, clearing his throat. "Now that's more like it."

"We're a family. There's nothing we can't talk about."

"Everything I said was for your own good."

"Yes, I know." I nodded dutifully, a vacant smile on my face.

Seeing that I wasn't going to make a scene, they all seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief before returning their attention to doting on Faith.

I paused for a beat, then turned to head upstairs.

But just as my foot touched the first step, a hand grabbed my wrist.

It was Garrett. He had followed me.

He pulled me closer, his warm breath brushing against my ear as he murmured, "Are you really not angry?"

His gentle tone made my eyes sting.

A fresh wave of grief washed over me, but I just shook my head. A lump formed in my throat, strangling any words I might have said.

Garrett, however, let out a sigh of relief. "I knew you were the most understanding. You never get angry over little things."

"Actually, there's something I wanted to run by you…" He hesitated, his gaze shifting away from mine.

"We need to adjust the wedding plans. I promised your sister I’d help with her graduation project—it's a large-scale event design. So, I was thinking—"

He took a breath. "What if we switched our dream Napa Valley vineyard wedding to a large hotel wedding here in Los Angeles, one that she designs?"

"The invitations haven't gone out yet. It's just a wedding, changing the venue is no big deal," he said with a soft smile, a flicker of what he probably thought was tenderness in his eyes.

My heart turned to ice. The flicker of warmth I’d felt from his brief concern now seemed utterly pathetic.

After being abandoned so many times, what sliver of hope made me think they were capable of loving me?

When I didn't respond, Garrett scratched his head in annoyance. "Come on, Willow. Faith's graduation project is really important to her. As her family, we should support her."

"Besides, don't you like lively parties too? Think of it as a surprise for her."

"Okay," I replied, my voice flat.

Garrett blinked, startled. "What did you say?"

I let out a long, slow breath. "I said, I agree. We can cancel the wedding."

"Cancel? Who said anything about canceling? I'm talking about changing the plan. We can't just cancel the wedding," he corrected me, his brow furrowed in confusion.

I looked down, a bitter smile twisting my lips.

What was the difference? As long as Faith was in the picture, she would never let our wedding happen smoothly. She was jealous—she wanted everything I had. I’d known that since we were children.

No matter how hard I fought, I could never win.

Our family's favoritism was her greatest weapon, the one she used to keep me perfectly under her thumb.

Now, even my fiancé was on her side.

My eyes burned, and a familiar itch began to prickle across my skin.

The peanut butter milkshake was starting to work.

I gave a slight nod and turned to go upstairs. I had an EpiPen in my room, and I had to get to it before the reaction got worse.

"Are you angry because I'm using your wedding venue?" Faith's voice, dripping with faux innocence, called out from behind me.

I ignored her and kept moving.

It was her classic move. All Faith had to do was squeeze out a few tears, and the entire family would rush to her defense, no matter what I did—or didn't do.

Predictably, Mason was the first to lash out. "That's enough, Willow! Didn't you hear Faith talking to you?"

"One second you say you're not angry, the next you're giving everyone the silent treatment. Is this how you treat your own sister?"

I didn't answer him. Baseless accusations had been the soundtrack to my childhood; I was long past feeling the sting.

But just as I reached the second-floor landing, a sharp pain shot through my arm as someone grabbed it from behind.

Mason yanked me down the stairs, his grip so forceful I stumbled and crumpled to the floor. "Faith has graduated! You don't get to ignore her anymore!"

I landed hard, a sharp, grinding pain shooting through my knee.

Garrett frowned. "Willow, I was the one who decided to change the wedding plan. It has nothing to do with Faith. If you're upset, take it out on me. Don't make her sad."

Curled on the floor, I couldn't tell what hurt more—my knee or my heart.

"Don't be mad at Willow," Faith said, dabbing at the corner of her eye with a tissue. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have used her wedding for my project. If I'd just chosen a different topic, none of this would have happened."

Through my tear-blurred vision, I caught the tiny, cold smirk on her lips.

"What are you talking about? This is for your career. The wedding she planned was too small-scale anyway. It has nothing to do with you," Mason said dismissively.

He glared down at me, his face a mask of impatience. "You love throwing tantrums, don't you? Fine. You can stay here and have one all by yourself."

Mason hauled me to my feet and shoved me into the basement home theater beside the stairs.

Panic flared in my chest. I fumbled for the doorknob, but before my fingers could close around it, I heard the heavy click of the lock on the other side.

He had locked me in.

"Stay in there," Mason's voice came, cold and muffled. "You can come out when you've learned to behave."

"No! Please, let me out!" I shrieked, pounding on the door. "I'm allergic to peanuts! I need my EpiPen!"

But his voice was already fading as he called out to Faith.

"I made a reservation at that new Michelin-star place. It's almost time, we should go!" he said cheerfully.

"But Willow…"

"She'll be fine. A few hours in there will teach her a lesson," Mason replied.

"Yeah, her temper is awful," my father chimed in. "Locking her in is a good idea. I'll bring her back some of her favorite dessert later."

"Let's go, Garrett," my mother added. "She'll be fine for a few hours."

In an instant, pure terror consumed me. I pounded on the heavy, soundproof door with all my might, screaming, "I'm not angry anymore! I'll apologize to Faith! I'll do anything! Just let me out! I can't breathe! I'll die in here!"

My voice grew hoarse, turning into a desperate, ragged plea, but the house had fallen silent.

I collapsed to the floor. The itching spread from my back to my face, and a terrifying tightness began to close around my throat.

My parents had watched me drink that milkshake. They knew I was allergic. And still, they had forgotten me.

They remembered Faith's favorite high-end restaurant, but they forgot I had downed a lethal dose of peanuts just minutes before.

Desperation forced me back to my feet. I twisted the doorknob with all my strength, but it was locked solid from the outside.

I frantically searched my pockets, but my phone must have fallen out when Mason grabbed me.

A red, angry rash was now covering my entire body. My face was swelling, blurring my vision. Worse, each breath was a desperate, painful struggle.

If I didn't get out, I was going to die in this theater.

As I groped around for something—anything—to pry the lock open, my fingers brushed against my phone, tossed in a dark corner.

A wave of relief washed over me as I scrambled for it with trembling hands.

But of course, neither my parents, my brother, nor Garrett answered my calls.

Then, a text from Mason popped up.

"Don't even think about trying to join us. You'll just ruin Faith's celebration."

Tears I could no longer feel streamed from my swollen eyes. How could I have ever expected anything from them?

Finally, my trembling fingers dialed 911.

Every second stretched into an eternity. My airway was constricting, and each gasp for air was a monumental effort. I could barely hold on, managing only to croak my address to the operator.

When the door to the home theater was finally smashed open, my world went black.