It wasn't until after I died that I realized they never loved me at all.
Diana got the Aldridge admission letter so easily, and they couldn't wait to announce it to the world—their most outstanding daughter, their pride and joy.
But that was mine.
"If you'd just been a little more obedient, you wouldn't have turned out so badly. Even without being exceptional."
I looked at Jordan and laughed—a bitter, angry laugh.
"Have you ever once seen what I'm capable of? If I told you that admission letter was mine, would you believe me?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Diana earned that on her own merit."
Right. Her own merit—the merit of sleeping her way in and swapping my name for hers. If I hadn't overheard it by accident, I never would have known.
"Stop being jealous of her."
"Jordan, this might be the last time I call you my brother. If I died someday, would you even be sad?"
"No. But I hope you don't let us know. Just pretend you never existed."
I watched his retreating back and smiled—a broken, miserable smile. He hadn't hesitated for even a second. The certainty in his eyes told me he genuinely wanted me dead.
"How pitiful." Diana's voice dripped with mockery. "I'm telling you—from now on, everything you have is mine. Including this."
I reached out to snatch it back, but my body felt light, weightless. One push and I toppled over. Diana looked puzzled for a moment but didn't dwell on it.
"Oh, and those kidnappers that day? I'm the one who found them. Told them to treat you real well." She smiled. "I'm going to pay them extra, actually. Seeing you so wrecked made me so happy."
My whole body trembled. It was her. It was her all along.
Something dark and terrible rose inside me, so intense that Diana actually flinched. I lunged at her.
"I'll kill you! You murderer—!"
I was like a madwoman. Maybe the hatred had consumed me completely, possessed me with something inhuman. No matter how Diana struggled, she couldn't break free. Real fear finally crept into her voice.
"Mom! Dad! Jordan! Help me! Fiona's trying to kill me!"
Bang. I was slammed hard against the wall. I'd already lost all reason. All I could think about was the torture that day—I had to kill Diana, drag her down to hell with me.
I lunged again, fingers closing around her throat, when my father's hand cracked across my face. The chaos stopped instantly. He glanced at his palm, and whatever guilt flickered there vanished the moment he saw Diana's state.
"Ungrateful wretch! Diana is your older sister!"
"Fiona, make another scene and I'm cutting ties with you for good."
The scene burned into my eyes. I wanted to cry, but no tears came. The raw dryness made it hard to breathe.
"She's the one who had me kidnapped! She killed me—she killed me!"
"How long are you going to keep this up? Now you're accusing Diana of murder? You're standing right here!"
This is only my vengeful spirit. My resentment was so heavy that the King of Hell let me return.
But I couldn't explain that. And they wouldn't believe it anyway.
"If you want to die so badly, then go die! Just go!"
Already dead, yet I could still taste blood in my throat. I walked away laughing. They found it deeply unsettling—I was right in front of them, yet somehow impossible to grasp.
They clutched their chests, a sudden ache blooming there.
"Mom, Dad, Jordan—don't be upset." Diana's voice turned soft, pitiful. "Fiona will come around eventually. If me leaving would help, then—"
"Don't talk nonsense!"
They ignored the pain spreading through their hearts.
