Chapter 3They Called My Death a Lie

"I remember Tessa saying last month that she really wanted to try that sushi place. Should we swing by and pick her up?"

"Why bring a wet blanket to ruin the mood?" Gavin scoffed. "She’d just sit there with that martyr face of hers, ruining everyone's appetite. Today is about us. Just our family."

My parents laughed in fond agreement.

"We’ll grab a to-go box on our way out," Mom said cheerfully. "Toss a few leftover rolls and some fried rice in a box. She’ll jump for joy just getting restaurant scraps."

Satisfied with the plan, someone finally noticed the call was still connected. The line went dead.

The nurse held the silent phone in her hand, her gaze drifting toward my cold, graying body on the metal gurney. A slow, heavy sigh escaped her chest.

"Back home, we only threw table scraps to the yard dogs," she murmured softly to herself. "No wonder she went into shock. Poor kid didn't stand a chance."

My family never made it to their sushi dinner.

While the responding officer was running my ID to pull up next-of-kin documentation, my phone began vibrating continuously on the desk.

Incoming calls. Dozens of them.

When the nurse answered, my father’s voice thundered through the speaker, breathless and unhinged.

"Tessa! You worthless, incompetent brat! What the hell were you doing? You left the range burner on and walked out? The whole kitchen went up! The fire department is tearing through our front lawn! Where the hell are you?"

He didn't wait for a response. "The HOA manager just called. The smoke ruined the drywall in the unit upstairs, and the water flooded the apartment below us. The insurance deductible and tenant damages are going to run twenty thousand dollars! That’s the exact value of your sister’s bracelet! You did this on purpose, didn't you? Out of pure spite!"

"Listen to me," he snarled, his voice cracking with rage. "You are paying every single dime of this. If you have to take out three predatory loans, if you have to sell your damn plasma, you will pay it back!"

In the background, Paige was sobbing hysterically. "Dad... cancel my bracelet. Call the jeweler and tell them to melt it down. If Tessa can burn the house down over twenty grand, what’s stopping her from selling me out on the street next time?"

I floated beside the desk, my transparent hands reaching out in vain. I didn't do it. I was dying. I collapsed before I could turn off the stove.

No one could hear me.

Through the phone, I heard my mother pulling Paige into her arms, whispering soothing promises. "Don't you cry, baby. We aren't dead yet. If Tessa ever tries to lay a finger on you, I’ll break her legs myself."

Gavin’s voice cut in, sharp and malicious. "We should just marry her off to settle the debt. She’s nothing but a parasite in this house anyway. What about that widower two buildings down? The guy whose wife died last year. He’s been looking for someone desperate to move in, raise his kids, and run his house. He told Dad last month he’d pay fifty grand cash upfront to anyone who took the burden off his hands."

I knew that widower. Everyone in our complex knew his wife had died after years of severe, brutal domestic abuse.

When it happened, my parents had spat on the sidewalk in disgust, declaring that no decent parent would ever throw their daughter into such a hellhole. Gavin had pumped his fists in the air, swearing that if that creep ever looked at Paige, he’d break his jaw.

Now, without a second thought, they were ready to auction me off to him.

My father’s teeth ground together over the line. "Tessa, answer me! If you don't speak right now, I’m calling him. We settle the twenty thousand for the fire, and with the thirty grand left over, we buy Paige an even bigger bracelet!"

Tears welled in the young nurse’s eyes. Her jaw tightened, shaking with righteous fury, and she hung up.

A moment later, an angry voice memo from my father popped up on the lock screen. A full sixty seconds of unfiltered bile.

The nurse didn't bother listening. Instead, she tapped the FaceTime icon and hit call.

"You don't need to threaten her anymore," the nurse said, her voice shaking with quiet, lethal fury as the call connected. "Because as you so clearly wished... your daughter Tessa is dead."

She turned the camera.

The lens focused directly on my face, pale, swollen, and motionless beneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the morgue.

Screeech—!

Over the speaker, the violent shriek of burning rubber tore through the air as my father slammed the brakes on the highway.

Then, absolute, terrifying silence.