Chapter 3The Switch: A Life Reclaimed

I sighed softly. I knew I didn't have that kind of luck. The upstairs room must be cramped, dark, damp, and stuffy.

Walking up the carved wooden staircase, I was dazzled by the exquisite paintings on the walls.

I didn't dare touch anything, not even a corner. I was terrified Mom would make me pay for it. Even if I sold my worthless life, I couldn't afford it.

When I got to the second floor, I was dumbfounded.

Every room was twice the size of the ones downstairs. The luxury was jaw-dropping.

Just as I was debating whether to sleep on the stairs or in the small storage closet at the end of the hall, a boy with striking eyebrows and bright eyes put his hand on my shoulder.

I turned to look at him.

He looked about 50% like me. He had a sunny smile on his face and a backpack over one shoulder, looking like a high schooler who just got home.

"You must be Ava. I'm your brother, Liam."

He looked apologetic. "Sorry I didn't visit you in the hospital earlier. I was at a training camp, and the coach wouldn't let me leave. I just got back."

"You've suffered all these years. As your brother, it's my fault for not protecting you back then. If I had been a bit older, you wouldn't have been taken."

His eyes were filled with pain. I couldn't help but comfort him, "It's okay. I'm fine now."

It wasn't their fault.

Liam looked up. "You were picking a room, right? Why don't you take the one next to mine? Easier for me to look out for you."

I wanted to refuse, but he didn't give me a chance. So, half-pushed, half-led, I chose the room next to his.

Liam left for a second and came back holding a small box. He sat down in my room and extended his hand towards me.

"Come here."

Right. Every time my foster brother, Tyler, needed money, he would sweet-talk me before extending his hand. This meant he wanted money.

I dug out an envelope from my pocket. It was the allowance Mom had just stuffed in there. It wasn't even warm yet.

I was self-aware. I meekly handed over my living expenses.

It wasn't my money anyway. I had no attachment to it.

Just like the twenty bucks I earned collecting bottles—I handed that over too.

Liam's eyebrows knitted together in displeasure. He looked at me, then at the envelope.

Was he dissatisfied with the amount?

Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock. "I'm your brother! I was reaching out to bandage your wound, not take your money!"

He pulled my sleeve, looking anxious and angry. He took out a cotton swab, dipped it in iodine, lifted my hair, and gently applied it to the wound, even blowing on it softly.

"This cut hasn't healed properly. Wait a sec, I'll put a band-aid on it. Your hair must have been covering it; Mom didn't even notice."

"If anyone hits you in the future, you hit them back. I'll take the consequences. If I can't handle it, Mom and Dad will. You're my biological sister; you can't just let people bully you for nothing, understand?"

I nodded blankly.

He stuffed the envelope back into my hand.

He seemed satisfied. "Although no one would dare bully you with me around, there might be times when I'm not there. How about this? I'll sign you up for a kickboxing class."

He looked at me with burning intensity.

I actually laughed. "Sure, why not."

Liam muttered helplessly, "Finally heard you speak. I almost thought you were mute."

Just then, Mom called from downstairs, "Dinner's ready!"