Elijah was about to explain, but Isabel cut him off.

"Julian, get down here."

"Explain yourself, or don't bother coming home."

If I could move, I would've come down long ago to confront you face-to-face. Why would I need to watch you all put on a show?

I couldn't accept it—their lies got my only family killed, and destroyed her entire life and youth.

It took everything I had just to lift my head and look at Isabel.

She was glaring at me, eyes blazing with fury. Such a convincing performance.

But my strength gave out before I could speak. Warmth trickled from my nose—blood.

Elijah noticed something was wrong. Panic flashed across his face as he tightened his grip on my back, ready to rush out.

He was the only one who knew about my illness. I'd never told Isabel—I didn't want to burden her.

But her people blocked our way.

"Isabel, tell them to let us through. Julian's sick too—stomach cancer."

"He paid for your treatment without saying a word, he just wanted—"

"What? What did you say?"

Isabel's head snapped up toward Elijah. Before he could continue, Henry cut him off.

"Hahahaha, nice try. You'll say anything, fake anything, just to make excuses."

"Stomach cancer? Sure. Then I've got leukemia—I'm dying too!"

The crowd erupted in laughter.

Whatever flicker of concern had crossed Isabel's face vanished instantly.

"Julian, get the hell down here. Now."

Elijah kept trying to explain. She refused to listen.

After Jacob texted Henry, he didn't hesitate—just lifted his foot and kicked Elijah down.

I fell with him. My palm slammed into broken glass.

The pain had already numbed my nerves. I had no strength to speak, let alone crawl.

Elijah choked back a sob. He dragged himself over to help me up, his hands smeared with my blood.

Isabel couldn't tell any of it apart. She thought we were acting.

"Fine. I lowered myself to bring you home, and you still refuse. Since you two are such good brothers, let's see how it feels—watching your best friend get beaten while you can't do a thing."

"Hit him. Beat him until Julian crawls up to stop it."

The moment she finished, Henry moved first. More than a dozen men closed in around Elijah.

One person against all of them.

Tears blurred my vision. My eyes were slowly closing.

I felt so hopeless. Even beaten bloody, Elijah still crawled toward me, still trying to get me to a hospital.

I never understood why he was so good to me. I'd only helped him once, but he remembered that kindness forever.

We grew up together, but I had family. He was an orphan.

In our village, he was always the one getting bullied. Every holiday, every house was warm and bright—except his, cold and empty.

I brought him home. Had my mom take him in as her godson. From then on, he had a mother. He had me—an older brother to protect him.

From that day on, he was never alone again.

And he stopped being the weak one. He became someone who knew how to protect his family.

The crowd kept growing. Not a single person stepped forward to help us. To stop the beating.

As my eyes finally closed, I looked toward Elijah.

Guilt was the last thing I felt.

I wanted to tell him I was sorry. I wanted to tell him that from the moment I took him in as my little brother, I'd never once regretted it.

But time had stopped giving me chances.

In the distance, Jacob held a wineglass, watching us with a smile. Every time Isabel's resolve wavered, he'd text her—harden your heart, punish them.

Maybe she sensed something was wrong with me. She told them to stop.

Elijah dragged his battered body over and pulled me up. "Julian. Julian!"

He shook me, panic rising. When he saw my eyes had fallen shut, his own turned red again.

"Isabel, help me!" He was screaming now. "He passed out—call an ambulance!"

She rolled her wheelchair over, glanced down at me, and scoffed. "Call who? He's faking it."

"I don't know what you see in him. He doesn't care whether you live or die—"

"He's not pretending." Elijah's voice cracked. "He's dying."

"If you won't call, I will."

He set me down gently and fumbled for his phone. Before he could dial, Henry kicked it out of his hand.

"You haven't even apologized to me yet, and you're already looking for an excuse to run? Keep dreaming."

Elijah broke.

All he wanted was for me to survive. So he knelt. He apologized. He kowtowed over and over until his forehead split open, blood streaming down his face.

Henry still wouldn't let us go.

Something in Elijah snapped. He lifted his head, eyes blazing red. "Isabel. If you stop me from saving him again, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Forever."

Isabel froze. There was no acting in that stare—only raw, desperate truth.

She told Henry to stop.

Elijah hauled me onto his back and ran.

Isabel started to rise from her wheelchair, but Jacob caught her wrist and pulled her into his arms. "What's the rush? He'll be fine. Trust me."

His lips brushed her ear. "Why not focus on tonight instead? It's our last performance, after all. Haven't you thought about what you want?"

Then he kissed her, and whatever conscience she had left crumbled under his touch.

Elijah knelt outside the operating room, praying. His lips moved constantly—please let him be okay, please, please.

He didn't know my soul was standing right beside him.

He didn't know I was already beyond saving.

The surgical light went dark. Doctors filed out.

When they announced my death, Elijah collapsed. The sound that tore from his throat wasn't crying—it was something broken, something that would never heal.

I tried to comfort him. Don't cry. It's okay. Please don't cry.

He couldn't hear me.

When he'd exhausted every tear, he stood and lifted my body onto his back.

I remembered doing the same for him when we were children. After the village kids beat him bloody, I'd carried him home just like this. He'd smiled through split lips and said, When I grow up and you get old, I'll carry you around the world.

While my body burned to ash, Elijah called Isabel. Dozens of times.

She didn't answer once.

Finally, he gave up. He went home alone, cradling the urn that held what was left of me.

He opened the door.

Jacob had Isabel pinned to the couch, his mouth on hers.