"Roger, don't do anything stupid!"

"Stop him!"

Panicked screams and chaotic footsteps exploded through the room.

Roger shrieked at them, "Don't come any closer! If you do, I'll jump right now! Aren't all of you blaming me? Don't you all think I'm lying? Then I might as well die!"

Amid the chaos, I struggled to pry my eyes open.

Casey was the first to notice I was awake.

She looked at me without a trace of warmth in her eyes—only command.

"Bobby, no matter whose fault it is, apologize to Roger first. Convince him to come down, and we'll let this whole thing go…"

My father and mother both turned toward me as well, wearing identical expressions of pleading desperation.

The oxygen mask covered my mouth and nose. Every breath carried the metallic taste of blood.

I raised my trembling arm, locked in plaster, and used all my strength to rip off the mask and tear the IV needle from the back of my hand.

Drops of blood splattered across the pale bedsheets.

I climbed out of bed. Inside my body, broken bones shifted with faint, sickening cracks.

Then I knelt on the freezing tile floor, lowered my head toward the window, and whispered hoarsely, "It was my fault… I shouldn't have pushed you. Please don't jump…"

The moment I finished speaking, I coughed up a mouthful of blood. Dark red blood splashed across the floor and spread rapidly. I collapsed forward, my forehead slamming against the ground.

This time, I couldn't get back up.

Casey stumbled backward as if she'd been burned. Then she suddenly turned and rushed out of the hospital room.

My mother froze for a second before finally screaming hysterically, "Doctor! Call the doctor, hurry!"

Doctors and nurses rushed into the room.

They lifted me back onto the bed and hurriedly reconnected the monitors and oxygen tubes.

The attending physician frowned deeply, his tone sharp with anger.

"The patient's injuries are already this severe. His bones haven't even started healing properly yet. How could you let him fall out of bed? How are you people taking care of him?"

He quickly checked my pupils and vital signs.

"If another accident happens, we really won't be able to save him. He still hasn't passed the critical stage and needs complete bed rest."

The doctor turned to my parents and carefully listed precautions.

"He cannot be left alone for twenty-four hours. Watch the monitor readings closely. If anything abnormal happens, press the call button immediately."

Only after giving several more instructions did the doctor finally leave.

The hospital room fell silent except for the steady beeping of the machines.

Two days later, I finally dragged myself out of the endless darkness and pain once again and opened my eyes.

Casey stood beside my bed, her expression unusually conflicted. A tablet was clutched in her hand, its screen displaying blurry surveillance footage.

"I went to the hospital security room… and found a child who was in the hallway that day."

Her voice sounded dry and strained.

"The child said… he saw Roger smash the bowl himself and lie down on the broken glass on purpose."

She lifted her head and looked toward Roger, who was curled up in the corner.

"Roger… why would you do something like that?"

My father's face instantly darkened with fury. He strode over to Roger in two steps and slapped him hard across the face.

"You bastard! Why would you treat Bobby like this?!"

The blow snapped Roger's head to the side, and his cheek immediately began to swell.

My mother instantly rushed over to shield him, heartbroken as she stroked his face.

"How could you hit Roger? Can't you talk things out properly? Roger must've had his reasons…"

Even Casey's expression softened slightly, though her lips remained tightly pressed as she looked at me.

Roger's eyes reddened instantly.

"Dad, Mom… I'm sorry. It was wrong of me. I really am sorry!

"I only did it because I was scared… You both know what I saw before—Bobby killed our sister…"

He looked at me in terror, as though I were some savage beast.

"And later, it was because I reported him that you sent him to the correctional facility. I was afraid he'd get revenge after he got out… especially since I'm only an adopted son…"

With a thud, Roger dropped to his knees beside my hospital bed and cried, "Bobby, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have framed you. I swear I'll never do it again. Can you forgive me?"

As he sobbed, he reached out and tightly grabbed my right hand, which was fixed in plaster.

A piercing pain exploded instantly.

His grip landed directly on my fractured wrist bone.

I could clearly feel the bones—which had only just begun to heal—shift and crack apart again under the force of his grip.

Pain swallowed my vision whole, but I couldn't make a sound.

Casey and my mother both stared at my face.

Casey spoke softly, "Bobby, Roger only lost his head for a moment. What he said makes sense too—he was just frightened…"

My mother immediately chimed in, "Exactly. Besides, he never actually did anything to you. Jumping off the building… that was your own decision. You can't blame Roger for that.

"And Bobby, what's gotten into you lately? Over every little thing, you either want to die or make a scene. Are you still holding a grudge because we sent you to the correctional facility?"

Her voice turned cold and unforgiving.

"If you hadn't killed Alison, we wouldn't have sent you there in the first place. If you weren't my son, I would've sent you straight to prison a long time ago!"

I stared blankly at the ceiling, my vision blurred from the pain.

My lips moved beneath the oxygen mask, and a weak yet clear voice came out, "I changed… I've changed. I won't hurt anyone anymore. I'm very obedient now. You can make me do… anything."

The hospital room fell silent for a moment.

They all stared at me in disbelief. Not a single person believed what I said.

So they began testing me.

Casey looked at me for a long moment before suddenly reaching up and yanking the pendant from around my neck.

It was a matching pendant my little sister and I had worn since childhood—my most treasured possession.

Casey smashed it onto the floor without hesitation.

The pendant shattered into pieces.

I stared at the fragments with hollow eyes, utterly unmoved.

My parents seemed to relax at last. After giving a few more instructions, they left the room in exhaustion.

Casey said, "I'll stay here with Roger and take care of him."

The hospital room door closed.

The tears and fear instantly vanished from Roger's face. He walked to my bedside, bent down, and chuckled softly in a voice only I could hear.

"My dear brother, you really can endure anything. Let me tell you a secret. Casey and I have been together for a long time already. She has an amazing body."

That night, in the silent hospital room, rhythmic shaking noises and muffled, indecent moans came from the bed beside mine.

I only stared quietly at the pale ceiling.

The monitor beeped steadily through the night.

I never slept.

In the past, I would've gotten jealous if Roger and Casey exchanged even a few extra words. But now, not a ripple stirred in my heart.

Casey sat in the chair beside my bed, her gaze fixed on me with a complicated expression.

After staring at me for a long time, she finally spoke, her voice carrying the slightest tremor.

"Bobby… you heard everything last night, didn't you?"

I didn't answer. I only gazed quietly at a withered tree branch outside the window.

She stood up and walked to my bedside, looking down at me as though trying to read every trace of emotion on my face.

"Roger and I did it right beside you. Why aren't you angry? Wasn't this the thing you cared about most? Five years ago, you used to lose your mind just from seeing us get a little close…"

Her tone gradually sharpened, carrying the irritation of someone being ignored.

"What are you pretending for now? I smashed your pendant, and you aren't even angry?

"Your wife slept with another man. And you don't even blink?"

Slowly, I turned my eyes toward her.

The oxygen mask blurred my voice, but she could still hear me clearly.

"As long as you're happy. I… don't have the right to say anything."

The color drained from Casey's face instantly. It was as if those words had burned her. She stumbled back a step, disbelief, anger, and a trace of panic surging through her eyes.

Her lips parted, but in the end, she said nothing. She turned and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Silence returned to the hospital room.

But memories surged uncontrollably through my mind, vivid as if they had happened yesterday.

Five years ago, I had cut my business trip short to surprise Casey. But when I pushed open the living room door, I saw two intertwined figures on the couch.

Roger's shirt had been pulled up above his waist, while Casey lay beneath him in disheveled clothes.

My mind exploded with a loud buzz.

I rushed forward, yanked Roger away, and punched him hard across the face.

"Roger, you bastard! She's your sister-in-law!"

Roger wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes cold and mocking.

Casey hurriedly fixed her clothes without saying a single word.

Because of that incident, my parents scolded me harshly.

All they knew was that I had suddenly gone crazy and attacked Roger.

They never knew the reason.

No matter what I said, they refused to believe me. They only believed their adopted son.

So later, when Roger caused the death of their biological daughter… they still believed every word he said and assumed I was the murderer. Then they sent me to the correctional facility for five years.

As for me—the son they had only found after many years—I didn't deserve their trust.

For more than twenty years, Roger had occupied my name and stolen my family. Even my wife was someone he wanted to take away.

But the system told me this was a necessary part of the storyline. Only by enduring everything and completing every plotline could I return and save my real little sister.

So I stopped explaining. I stopped resisting.

During those five years in the correctional facility—beatings, electric shocks, solitary confinement, humiliation of every kind—I endured it all.

Over the next few days, Roger put on the same performance every time my parents were around, standing beside my bed and pretending to apologize to me.

They looked at him with sympathy, convinced he was a good person.

The way they looked at me, however, remained as cold and disgusted as ever.

Today, just as Roger was about to start another apology, he suddenly pretended to faint. My parents and Casey panicked and immediately called for a doctor before rushing out after him.

I finally let out a breath of relief.

At least no one was standing in front of me pretending anymore.

Not long after, my parents returned with Roger. He sat dramatically in a wheelchair.

My parents and Casey looked deathly pale.

My mother spoke first, choking back sobs.

"Roger… has been diagnosed with severe heart disease. Heart failure. He needs a transplant as soon as possible. Otherwise…"

Roger weakly shook his head as tears slid down his face.

"Dad… Mom… don't be sad. If there's a next life, I hope I can be your real son…"

My mother burst into tears.

"Don't say nonsense like that! There has to be another way!"

Casey's eyes reddened as well as she tightly held Roger's hand.

A doctor entered the room shortly afterward, his tone grave.

"The compatibility results are back. Roger has a rare blood type, and there's currently no suitable donor in the heart bank. As for an artificial heart, he has a severe history of rejection and allergic reactions, so the risk is extremely high."

As he spoke, the doctor's gaze drifted toward me on the hospital bed.

The room fell into dead silence.

In the end, everyone's eyes landed on me.

My mother's lips trembled before she finally spoke.

"Bobby… you…"

My father turned his face away, unable to look at me.

Casey's voice sounded strained.

"The doctor said your body is compatible with an artificial heart… Although there are risks, the rejection rate would still be lower than Roger undergoing a direct transplant…"

Roger suddenly began coughing violently, sounding weak and breathless.

"N-No… we can't use Bobby's heart… I'd rather die…"

My mother looked at me with pleading agony in her eyes.

"Bobby… Mom knows this is unfair, but… could you… give your heart to your brother first? Mom is begging you…

"You're still young. Even with an artificial heart, you might survive. But Roger doesn't have time left…"

My gaze swept calmly across every face in the room.

"Okay. I'll give it to him."

Everyone froze. They had imagined my anger, my breakdown, my resistance…

But none of them had expected such immediate obedience.

Casey's pupils contracted sharply, her fingers trembling slightly.

My mother even forgot to cry, staring at me blankly.

Casey's voice tightened.

"Do you understand how dangerous the surgery is? Even an artificial heart could still…"

I interrupted her.

"I know."

Before entering the operating room, Roger leaned close and whispered in a voice only I could hear, "Bobby, you lost. But don't worry. After you die, I'll take very good 'care' of Casey, Mom and Dad for you."

I closed my eyes and said nothing.

The moment they removed my heart in the operating room, my life finally came to an end as well.

"Beep—beep—beep—"

A sharp series of alarms suddenly rang out. The surgery on my side had failed.

At the same time, on the other side of the hospital, my parents and wife were overwhelmed with joy after learning that Roger's heart was actually fine.

The earlier diagnosis had been caused by faulty equipment and a mistaken examination.

Only when the doctors wheeled me out of the operating room did they finally remember that I existed.

A gust of wind lifted the white sheet covering my body. My lifeless face was exposed beneath the harsh lights. And the bloody gash carved into the left side of my chest appeared before their eyes in horrifying clarity.

Only then did they finally remember that I even existed.