The Family's Secret: A Love Consumed

My sister, Honora, told me I killed our family in a car crash. Our parents and my adopted brother, Aloysius, were dead. She said it was all my fault.

She told me I had a debt of blood and ruin to repay.

For eight years, I worked three jobs, my body aching from sixteen-hour days. I lived in a tiny, damp room, ate the cheapest bread, and sent every single penny I earned to her.

The money was for one thing: to buy back our family's lake house. It was the symbol of the life I had destroyed, the one place I thought I could find forgiveness.

After eight years of sacrificing my health and my youth, I finally saved enough.

I went to the house, ready to atone. But when I peered through the window, my world stopped. My parents were there, alive, holding champagne glasses. And sitting between them, smiling, was Aloysius—the boy who was supposed to be dead.

They were celebrating his birthday. Then I heard my mother speak.

"It's also Jesse's birthday today," she said casually. "We've punished him for five years. Don't you think it's time we bring him back?"

Honora's smile vanished. "No. We agreed on seven years. Not one day less."

Hidden in the shadows, I clutched the medical report in my hand. Their cruel game was about to be cut short. I was already dying.