My Revenge After Death

When I was dying of silver poisoning, my fiancé Marcus, the Alpha who had promised to never abandon me, now wanted to harvest my healthy kidney for my parents' adopted daughter, Celeste.

So I refused the conservative treatment plan. I injected myself with the witch's life potion.

The price? In 72 hours, I would die from complete organ failure.

In those three days, I gave my private healing center—the one I'd built with my own hands—to Celeste. Mom and Dad beamed with joy. "Good girl, you've finally grown up. You're taking care of your sister now."

Marcus wanted to postpone our wedding to care for Celeste. I accepted it calmly. He praised me for finally being understanding.

I even gave up my position as the pack's chief healer to Celeste. My parents and Marcus were so excited they planned to throw her a grand celebration ball. They invited every important person with status in the pack to honor her new role.

I was just curious about one thing. After I died, would they shed a single tear for me?

When I was dying of silver poisoning, my fiancé Marcus, the Alpha who had promised to never abandon me, now wanted to harvest my healthy kidney for my parents' adopted daughter, Celeste.

Three years ago, I got silver poisoning while defending my family during a rogue wolf attack.

But somehow, my sister was the one who took all the credit. When we returned to the pack, she spun a story about how she had bravely fought off the rogues while I cowered in fear.

My attempts to tell the truth were dismissed as jealousy and attention-seeking behavior.

From that day forward, Celeste began having mysterious health issues.

Whenever she felt "unwell" - which happened conveniently often - I was expected to give up something for her comfort. My room when hers was too small. My time with Marcus when she needed emotional support.

"Celeste is a hero," Dad would remind me each time. "You should be more understanding. She sacrificed herself for our family."

Even now, in the late stages of my silver poisoning, they wanted me to donate a kidney to treat Celeste's kidney failure.

So I refused the conservative treatment plan. I injected myself with the witch's life potion.

The price? In 72 hours, I would die from complete organ failure.

Under my assistant healer's regretful gaze, I pushed the needle into my vein.

My life officially entered its 72-hour countdown.

After handling everything, I went to Celeste's private hospital room.

Inside, Dad was opening champagne. Mom and Marcus surrounded Celeste's bed, their faces full of joy.

When they saw me push through the door, the family's warm laughter came to an abrupt halt.

"What are you doing here? Are you trying to ruin Celeste's good mood on purpose?"

Mom spoke first, her voice full of wariness and displeasure.

"How could the Blackwood family raise such a cold-blooded, selfish child? Celeste is your sister. What's wrong with donating one kidney to your sister?"

"If I'd known you were so heartless, we never should have brought you back from the countryside!" Dad snorted coldly.

In their blind spot, Celeste flashed me a victor's smile from her hospital bed.

I lowered my head. In the past, I would have argued back. I would have told them Celeste wasn't nearly as sick as she claimed.

Though they never listened to any of my explanations anyway.

But now, I didn't want to argue anymore.

"You came at the perfect time. Your father and I were just about to find you," Mom's tone softened slightly.

I smiled weakly. "Mom, I have something to tell you too."

"Celeste has always envied my healing studio, hasn't she? I've thought it through. I'm giving it to her."

Dad and Mom both froze. Marcus looked up at me in surprise.

"What did you say? Say that again. You're willing now?"

No wonder they were so shocked.

Celeste had been wanting my studio for a long time.

Mom and Dad had tried every method—soft persuasion and hard pressure—to make me hand over this brand I'd built from nothing.

But I had never given in.

For someone about to die, though, these worldly possessions truly held no weight anymore.

After Mom confirmed I wasn't joking, her face finally bloomed with a satisfied smile. She walked over and patted my shoulder.

"You've finally understood!"

"Even though Celeste's health isn't good, she has real healing talent."

My heart felt completely numb as I handed over the transfer contract I'd prepared.

Watching Celeste eagerly sign her name, Mom and Dad happily grasped my hands, praising me over and over as their "good girl."

How ironic. Only when I gave in to Celeste could I earn half a word of praise from them.

I suddenly wanted to know something.

If they ever discovered that Celeste wasn't really sick, and learned of my death—would their smiles freeze on their faces right now?