Chapter 1Five Years Of Playing Dead For A Lesson I Never Needed

The day Mom and Dad died, our family empire crumbled, leaving my brother and me buried under a mountain of debt.

To chip away at the millions, he took a gig testing out moldy, condemned properties for shady landlords, and I became a background extra—the resident corpse—on low-budget film sets. Five years of relentless hustling, never a day off, and the balance still haunted us.

By the end of the year, the debt was down to the last $130,000.

Desperate, I signed up for a clinical drug trial.

I walked away with the cash, clutching the duffel bag full of bills, euphoric. I couldn’t wait to show Graham.

Instead, I found him on the phone, a frown furrowing his brow.

“Mom, Dad, Elle is doing really well. You two just enjoy your time overseas.”

“She’s not a spender anymore. The punishment can probably end next year.”

My parents weren’t dead. Our family hadn’t gone broke.

The last five years of crushing hardship—the exhaustion, the hunger, the humiliation—it was all a calculated performance, a punishment for my supposed habit of spending too much money.

The smile froze on my face. My stomach twisted into a violent knot, and a mouthful of bright, shocking blood erupted from my lips.

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* * *

“Just so we’re clear, if you sign this contract, we are not responsible for any adverse reactions.”

That was the last thing the Clinical Trial Coordinator had told me. He made me initial the clause several times: the contract was legally binding. After five hours of observation following the dose, I’d be paid, and even if I died the next day, there would be no recourse.

Back then, all I could think about was handing the final payment to my brother so we could have one normal New Year. I signed without hesitation.

Now…

I stared at the heavy duffel bag of cash, the weight suddenly feeling bitterly ironic. I lifted my sleeve and wiped the blood from my mouth.

Pushing the apartment door open, I stepped inside.

Graham quickly hung up his phone. He turned, and his eyes immediately fixated on the stain on my shirt.

“What happened?!”

His face went white. He was by my side in two steps, his hands gripping my shoulders, frantically checking me for injury.

I pushed his hands away, my voice flat and even.

“It’s just prop blood from the set.”

“Oh. Right. That’s good. I thought you were hurt.”

He let out a shaky breath of relief. Then his gaze fell on the bag of money on the floor, and his eyes narrowed instantly.

“Where did this come from?” he demanded. “Elle, you didn’t do something stupid, did you? You didn’t steal it?”

My heart plummeted. I didn’t know this man at all.

Steal it? Is that what he truly thought of me?

I balled my fists, taking a moment before answering softly.

“The director distributed bonuses. End of the year, a little holiday welfare.”

He frowned, still suspicious. “A cash bonus? That big?”

“Do you want it or not?” I snapped, the irritation finally bubbling up. “You said we only had $130,000 left. This is exactly that. If you don’t want it, I can take it back to them.”

He was silent for a long moment, but he finally reached for the bag. “I’ll transfer it tomorrow.”

He quickly changed the subject. “What do you want for dinner? I’ll cook.”

I let my gaze drift around the cramped studio apartment. It was thirty square meters, and you could see everything from the doorway: a wardrobe, a folding bed, and a tiny bathroom. There was no kitchen. He chopped vegetables on the coffee table. The electric skillet, bought for fifty bucks, was five years old, its power cord patched twice with black electrical tape.

I suddenly heard myself asking, “Graham. Don’t you ever get tired of this?”

He smiled, turning back to me. “Not really. My job is pretty easy, I mostly just lie there. It’s you, Elle. You’re the one who must be exhausted after all these years.”

What I really meant was: Aren't you tired of pretending? Our family had a fortune worth billions. We could have lived in complete freedom. But he was forcing this existence on me, all for a supposed punishment. Didn’t it drain him?

Of course, he hadn’t understood. I decided to be more direct.

I looked at him intently. “Graham, do you really think I’m a big spender?”