Chapter 3

Three years ago, as I was walking downstairs, Chantal suddenly appeared out of nowhere and screamed as she threw herself down the steps.

She lay at the bottom in a pool of blood, crying, "Mary, it's okay if you pushed me. I shouldn't have taken Mom, Dad, and Wallace away from you. I deserve this."

A blind spot in the security cameras, a maid who "happened" to walk in at that exact second, and my hairpin clutched in Chantal's hand formed ironclad evidence.

No matter how much I begged or tried to explain, nobody believed me.

Beryl went hysterical, screaming that I needed to pay with my life, while Isiah backhanded me across the face.

And Wallace, the one who had personally brought me back to the family, looked at me like I was a monster. "You're rotten to the core! You don't deserve to be a Hayden, and you definitely don't deserve to be my sister."

With a forged psychiatric evaluation, they had me locked away in a suburban asylum. I was trapped there for three whole years.

...

A sharp pain in my wrist jerked me back to reality. Wallace was yanking me forward, looking irritable. "Mom and Dad miss you. It's almost Christmas. Get in the car and come home for a family dinner."

The bodyguards shoved me into the back seat, and the car sped off toward the Hayden Mansion. When we arrived, my parents barely even looked at me.

Isiah was expressionless. "The marrow match was a success. At least, you weren't a total waste of space."

We sat down at a dining table overflowing with gourmet food. The rich smells that used to make my mouth water now made my stomach turn.

Trembling, I picked up a piece of lettuce and forced myself to chew. Even that managed to set Wallace off.

He slammed his fork down, his teeth clenched. "What's the matter? Mom and Dad had this dinner made specifically for you, and you're eating like it's poison?

"Don't tell me you prefer the rotten garbage you dig out from under the bridge."

Chantal chimed in, "Oh, I forgot to mention! I ran into Mary's foster parents today. They said she's been obsessed with dieting lately and barely eats a thing. They are so worried about her."

My parents' faces darkened instantly. Wallace shot to his feet, his chair screeching against the floor.

"So, that's why you're playing dead!" he barked. "You're deliberately starving yourself so you can't donate your marrow to Chantal! You're still trying to screw her over, aren't you?"

Isiah glared. "You are going to sit there and eat every bite on that plate, Mary. This is what you owe your sister."

"I'm not..." I whispered, but the agonizing pressure in my stomach made my vision swim.

"Then eat!" Beryl commanded, her voice rising to a shrill scream. "Eat it right now! You are going to save Chantal! I won't let you kill my daughter!"

She ordered the servants to hold me down and force a bowl of chicken soup down my throat. I finally realized why they had brought me home.

It wasn't a reunion at all. They just wanted to fatten me up like livestock, so I'd be healthy enough to donate my marrow.

Adrenaline hit me from out of nowhere. I violently wrenched myself free, and the scalding soup splashed all over Wallace's hand.

"You ungrateful wretch!" he roared, raising his hand to strike me.

"Oh no!" Chantal suddenly shrieked. "The diamond bracelet Dad gave me is gone! The limited-edition one that just got delivered yesterday!"

Instantly, every eye in the room locked onto me. The weight of their gazes felt exactly like it did three years ago, sending a sickening chill down my spine.

"I didn't take it," I stammered, backing away from the table.

Wallace was livid. "Search her!"

The bodyguards knocked me over without mercy and pinned me down like a rag doll. Any shred of dignity I had left was ripped away as they tore through my clothes and pockets.

My tears soaked into the cracks of the hardwood floor.

A servant came running into the dining room, holding something up. "We found this in Miss Mary Hayden's shoe."

The room went dead silent.

Beryl went feral. She grabbed plates and bowls from the table and hurled them at me, shattering them against my body. She was shaking so violently that she looked like she might faint.

"I knew it! A thief is always a thief!" she roared. "Three years in an asylum, and you're still pulling the same low-class stunts! Why are you like this? What did I do to deserve a curse like you?"

Even Isiah, who rarely lost his temper, was shaking with rage. "We gave you everything. How can you be so shameless?"

Wallace lunged forward, grabbed me by the throat, and squeezed. "You're beyond saving!"

A small, folded piece of paper slipped from my torn pocket and drifted to the floor. Wallace frowned, his grip loosening. He reached down, picked it up, and unfolded it.

Under the bright light of the chandelier, the printed words stood out in stark black and white: [Terminal Diagnosis: Stage IV Pancreatic Cancer].