Chapter 1The Choice

In a twisted game of life or death, the kidnappers gave my parents a choice. They chose my younger sister. I was executed without hesitation.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in the body of a stranger.

Her name was Nora. She had a grandmother who was bedridden and a mother with a permanent limp. They were dirt poor, living paycheck to paycheck, yet their home held the kind of warmth I had craved my entire life.

One day, by chance, I ran into a woman who looked like she was losing her mind. She grabbed my arm and asked if I had seen her daughter.

I looked at that familiar face—gone was the elegance of the socialite I once knew, replaced by the haggard look of a woman haunted by ghosts.

I shook my head calmly. "No, I haven't."

Her daughter died five years ago at the hands of kidnappers.

She was the one who made the choice.

* * *

The warehouse smelled of rust and gasoline. My sister, Maya, and I were bound back-to-back, gags stuffed in our mouths.

A camera on a tripod pointed directly at us. Behind the lens, the kidnapper ate a burger and laughed, watching a tablet screen.

"Mr. Sterling, have you decided? Which of your precious daughters dies today?"

Maya was sobbing into her gag, shaking violently. I just stared at the monitor.

On the screen, my parents—usually the picture of composure and wealth—looked ten years older. They were begging.

"Don't touch them! We'll give you whatever you want!"

"Please, not the girls!"

The kidnapper smashed a beer bottle against the wall. A shard grazed my cheek, drawing blood.

"Sterling, you begging me now? When my company went under and I begged you for a loan, did you listen?"

"Money is useless. I want blood. I'll give you three minutes. Choose one to save. If the clock hits zero and you haven't chosen, they both die."

The countdown began. A mechanical beeping that sounded like a death knell.

Maya’s tears soaked my shoulder.

Barely thirty seconds in, I heard my mother’s voice, shrill and desperate. "Save the little one! Save Maya!"

"Don't hurt my baby! Please!"

I wasn't surprised. I was the spare. Maya was the heir. But hearing it—hearing them trade my life for hers—broke something inside me that I didn't know was still intact.

My parents didn't love me. Not really.

The kidnapper dragged Maya to the far side of the room. He walked back to me and ripped the tape off my mouth.

"Kid. You got one minute for last words."

My body was vibrating with fear. I looked at the screen. I wanted to scream, to curse them, to ask why. But my throat was dry.

"Twenty seconds," the man said, his voice sounding miles away.

I looked at the camera. I couldn't speak. I just let the tears fall.

A moment later, cold steel slid across my throat.

I lay on the concrete, watching my life pool around me in red. Like a candle flickering in a storm, I went out.