Chapter 1The Truth After My Injection

The latest episode of The Docket, a legal true-crime series, featured an interview with a hospice worker specializing in psychological counseling for death row inmates.

At the end of the segment, the reporter asked him if there was ever a prisoner he couldn’t reach.

“I’ve met many who hold onto hope for an appeal, or who deeply regret their choices and wish for a different next life,” he said, his voice measured. “But there was only one inmate who chose immediate execution without hesitation.”

“She was an eighteen-year-old girl, and she was once my student. She only said one thing to me.”

“‘I never knew that turning love into hate could be so terrifying.’”

He showed the reporter the girl’s belongings.

“Every inmate leaves a video message for their family, but hers has remained with me. If her family sees this program, I urge them to contact me immediately.”

The episode aired, and the online buzz immediately skyrocketed.

Some questioned how an eighteen-year-old could so readily embrace death; others condemned the sympathy for a criminal, calling it a secondary injury to the victims’ families.

My three older brothers, however, only offered a look of cold disdain before one of them casually muted the television.

“Sienna Westlake. Couldn’t even learn to behave in prison. Now she’s colluding with a teacher to put on a show.”

“She’s the reason Phoebe is in a wheelchair. I personally handled the defense to secure the death penalty. But I have the plea for leniency drafted. All she has to do is admit her mistake, and she’ll be fine.”

“Since she still hasn’t learned her lesson, this month’s visitation is, as usual, denied.”

* * *

My eldest brother, Carter, was peeling grapes for Phoebe when the interview came on.

A man like the CEO of the Westlake Group, who practically operates on a different plane of existence, was meticulously preparing a special, custom-made dish for her.

I used to have one, too.

Now, it’s sitting on the floor, serving as a dog bowl for Phoebe’s lapdog.

My second brother, Rhys, and my third brother, Dean, walked in carrying a selection of gourmet pastries just as the teacher, Dr. Elias Stern, looked into the camera with profound regret.

“Perhaps she truly lost the will to live. By the last time I saw her, she was skeletal.”

“She was only eighteen, but every time I visited, her eyes were more hollow than the last.”

“Initially, she was desperate, constantly applying for family visits. After the seventeenth denial, she simply went silent.”

“I only found out later that she had always denied harming anyone since her incarceration. I don’t know why she suddenly chose immediate execution.”

“I want to help her. I want to clear her name.”

Since the interview was streamed live online, that last statement caused an instant uproar among viewers.

Some argued that a death row inmate was just afraid of dying, and that this was more manipulation.

The negative comments piled up.

The counselor ignored the comments and instead showed the girl’s meager possessions.

A solitary butterfly hair clip rested on top of a bloodstained prison uniform.

His voice caught slightly. “She was placed in the cell at the end of the corridor, filled with the most hardened criminals.”

“Every time I passed by, I heard them holding her head in the toilet, or breaking her shin.”

“Her food was routinely laced with scraps of metal; her bedding was thrown into a bucket of slop. She was left to kneel on the floor, night after night.”

“I tried to intervene through the glass, but the inmates just said she was being ‘specially taken care of’ and that I should mind my own business.”

“I know I have little authority, even though she wasn’t my formal student.”

“But I can’t let her last wish go unanswered. I need her family to contact me as soon as possible.”

Hearing the details from the hospice worker, the tide of comments began to shift.

Some still saw it as a criminal’s just desserts.

But others began to dig into the case details: the eighteen-year-old adopted daughter of the Westlake family, in a fit of jealousy, pushed the recently-found true daughter down a flight of stairs, resulting in permanent disability.

Then came the questions. Many found the death penalty for intentional injury to be excessively harsh.

The amateur investigators dug deeper.

They quickly uncovered that the defense attorney who had handled the case was the city’s top, undefeated lawyer—Rhys Westlake, the Westlake family’s second son.

Rhys stared at the butterfly hair clip on the screen, his eyebrow twitching.

He had bought that for me when he won his very first case.

“Carter, what if Sienna really is in trouble?”

Dean abruptly shut off the live stream.

His voice was dismissive. “Have you forgotten about that whole situation between Sienna and that counselor? She really hasn’t learned her lesson. Maybe I should tell those inmates to be even stricter.”

The mention of that incident darkened all three of their faces.

Rhys’s brief surge of worry vanished.

“You’re right. If she hadn’t been so jealous, I wouldn’t have stepped in to defend the case myself just to punish her. That death sentence is a lesson. I have the plea ready. The second she admits she was wrong, I’ll file it.”

Carter wiped his hands and told his assistant to calm the public outrage.

“We spoiled her too much over the years. If she wants to put on a show, let her. This month’s visit remains denied.”

“She won’t set foot back in the Westlake house until she owns up to what she did.”

I knew they believed I was deliberately colluding with Dr. Stern, hoping to gain sympathy and be brought home.

But what they didn’t know was that I couldn't go back.

And I never wanted to again.