Upon seeing my panic, the camera zoomed in mercilessly, capturing every tremor on my face and broadcasting my agony to the world.

"Renowned pharmaceutical researcher Camila leads a promiscuous life, a prime example of depravity. We urge the public to cherish their bodies and not end up like Camila, who became disabled due to her reckless behavior."

I was nothing more than a spectacle, a stripped-bare clown for their twisted entertainment. The relentless flashes seized my most wretched, most disgraceful state, ensuring every detail was preserved.

"What are you doing?! Who let you in?!"

Bradley barged in, his furious roar slicing through the chaos.

Juliette rushed forward, tearing off her coat and wrapping it tightly around me, her face streaked with tears. "Where are the bodyguards?! Are they dead?! How did these reporters get in?!"

The performance was flawless.

It was so well-rehearsed and perfect, and it made me sick.

A violent tremor racked my body.

My brother crouched before me, his hands gripping mine, his gaze brimming with guilt. "Camila, I’m sorry. It’s my fault for not protecting you and for letting these reporters take advantage of the situation. Don’t be afraid. I’ll suppress the news and make sure their lies never spread. I swear, I won’t let you suffer again."

How laughable.

The very brother who vowed to protect me had delivered the cruelest betrayal of all.

He knew better than anyone that the damage was already done.

The reporters had captured everything they needed. Their headlines would brand me with disgrace, nailing me to the pillar of shame. For the rest of my life, I would be nothing more than a rat scurrying through the streets, trampled underfoot, despised, just as he wanted.

For Amara, the two people I had trusted most had shattered me beyond repair.

The betrayal was too much. My broken body, already at its limit, could take no more. Darkness surged forward, dragging me under.

As my consciousness faded, I vaguely heard my brother’s panicked screams. The experts waiting outside rushed in.

"The delay has been too long; her intestines are necrotic and must be removed. Even if her limbs recover, she likely won’t regain full function. She’ll have to use a wheelchair. The situation is severe; we’ve already missed the best window for treatment. The surgery only has a fifty percent success rate."

My brother’s voice trembled with disbelief. "How could this happen?! You have to save my sister, no matter what it takes!"

The entire time, he never let go of my hand, his voice choked with sorrow.

"Camila, you have to pull through. I can’t lose you."

Juliette sobbed uncontrollably, her voice trembling. "Camila, we promised to be each other’s bridesmaids, to stay happy together. You can’t leave me like this."

I closed my eyes, sinking into numb despair. My heart was as lifeless as cold embers.

When I opened them again, I was back in my hospital room.

Bandages covered me from head to toe, leaving only my slightly less-injured left hand free. The stark whiteness of the room was suffocating.

Juliette sat beside me. The moment she saw me awake, tears of joy spilled down her face.

"Camila, you’re finally awake! Does it still hurt? Are you hungry? Do you need some water?"

Her concern was familiar. But beneath it, I caught the subtle tremor of guilt.

I suddenly wanted to laugh.

They had shattered me and left me in this inhuman state. And now that they had gotten what they wanted, who were they pretending to feel guilty for?

I forced a faint smile, my cracked lips barely moving. "Get some sleep. Those dark circles make you look like a panda."

Relieved by my calmness, Juliette let out a soft breath and lay down on the accompanying bed. Within moments, she drifted off.

The moment her breathing steadied, I reached for the phone she had carelessly left on the bedside table.

As soon as I unlocked it, the wallpaper appeared, an image of the three of them, side by side.

Amara stood in the center, radiant and carefree, linking arms with both of them, her smile dazzling.

I opened the photo album.

Nearly ten thousand pictures flooded the screen, a suffocating display of their perfect world. Snapshots of them traveling, laughing, living, untouched by the pain they had inflicted on me.

A video caught my eye.

In it, Juliette held a carefully decorated three-tiered cake, her hands steady, her expression gentle. She smeared a bit of cream onto Amara’s nose, eyes filled with indulgent affection.

Then came my brother’s voice, soft, devoted. He lifted a delicate princess crown above Amara’s head, his tone dripping with warmth. "I want my one and only sister to be the happiest little princess in the world."

The memories of our twelve years together, studying side by side, chasing after our favorite stars, running beneath golden sunsets, laughing and crying in each other’s arms, swearing to grow old in the same nursing home, had been tossed away like yesterday’s trash.

Photos she once vowed to cherish forever had been wiped clean, erased without a trace.

Tears blurred my vision as agony twisted deep inside me.

I couldn’t understand. How could a bond so close shatter overnight?

By chance, my trembling fingers tapped into their private group chat, only to be met with a cold, undeniable truth.

A kidney transplant agreement.

My breath caught in my throat. My pulse pounded against my skull.

The recipient's name was Juliette.

The original donor was me.

But now, the name had been replaced. Amara Murphy.

A shudder ran through me. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. My fingers instinctively pressed against the scar on my lower back as if that alone could stop the wave of nausea crashing over me.

Years had passed, yet the pain felt as raw as the day it was carved into my flesh, a blade twisting all over again.

A sudden thought struck me, and I scrolled frantically through the chat history.

Then, I saw it.

A single message from my brother.

[Back then, during the villa fire, Amara risked her life to carry me out while I was unconscious. For the rest of my life, she is my everything. I would sacrifice anything to fulfill her every wish.]

She was his life. His everything.

Then what was I?

I was the one crushed beneath the falling beams, ribs snapping under the weight. The one who bore the searing kiss of the flames, leaving my back wrinkled and scarred beyond recognition.

Did any of that matter to him?

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips as I slowly set my phone aside and sank onto the bed, laughter spilling through my tears. It was laughable, really, how pain could be so easily forgotten when it didn’t belong to them.

After a long while, I wiped my face dry, my fingers steady as I scrolled through my contacts and found a long-buried name.

"Professor, can I still participate in the secret international drug research project?"

The reply came instantly.

"Of course. I've always admired your talent and integrity. I know the rumors online are false; don’t let them shake you. However, this project is classified, the duration was uncertain, and your identity must remain confidential. You should discuss it with your family first."

A faint smirk curled my lips. Family?

"There’s no need. Please help me erase my identity."

A brief pause. Then, a single-word response.

"Understood."

"What do you mean by 'erase your identity'?"

The voice startled me. The door had been pushed open, and my brother stood there, his expression flickering with unease.

I turned to him, my face unreadable. "My ID is expiring. I need to get a new one."

Relief washed over his face. He carefully blew on the oatmeal he had brought before scooping up a spoonful and holding it out to me.

"You're still recovering. If you need anything, just tell me. We're family; don’t worry about bothering me."

Family?

Not for much longer.

Beside him, Juliette stirred awake, hesitation flickering in her eyes before she spoke. "Camila, my wedding with your brother is coming up soon. Since you haven’t fully recovered, about the bridesmaid…"

I didn’t need to hear the rest. I already knew.

"Ask Amara to take my place. She’s more suitable than me."

In their chat history, they had long since arranged for a world-renowned designer to create a bridesmaid dress worth billions, crafted solely for Amara, complete with a dazzling set of jewelry. The ensemble outshone even the bride’s gown, yet Juliette was perfectly content to be overshadowed.

My response made them both light up with joy.

My brother beamed at me. "Camila, you've really become more sensible."

Juliette squeezed my hand tightly. "Camila, even if you can’t be my bridesmaid, you’ll always be my best sister, my only best friend."

Lies. Every word was a fabrication.

I pulled my hand away and shut my eyes.

I no longer wanted this family.

I no longer wanted any of them.

A week later, the wedding unfolded at a luxurious seaside hotel. The waves whispered against the shore, oblivious to the deceit laced within the celebrations.

Amara stood at the heart of the crowd, radiant in her exquisite bridesmaid dress, basking in admiration. Every eye was drawn to her, just as planned.

The moment she spotted me approaching in my wheelchair, she hurried over, her expression painted with false concern.

"Sis, how are you? I heard your injuries were really serious. Your intestines even spilled out! I was so worried about you!"

I ignored her feigned concern and turned away, searching for a quiet place to rest.

But before I could escape, Amara clung to my wheelchair, her sobs growing louder.

Her nails, sharp and cruel, dug into a wound on my arm, sending a searing pain through me.

From across the venue, my brother, busy entertaining guests, heard the commotion and strode over.

I knew Amara too well. If I resisted, she’d pretend to stumble, twisting the story until I became the villain.

So I gritted my teeth and endured it while she wept even harder, looking pitiful enough to draw sympathy from anyone watching.

"Brother, sister must be upset that I didn’t visit her. But you know how busy I’ve been; my new drug has had such a great response; I just couldn’t find the time..."

My work. My research. Yet here she was, flaunting the success that rightfully belonged to me.

And me? With my ruined reputation, I couldn’t even lift my head without meeting contemptuous stares.

My brother's voice cut through my thoughts, cold and impatient. "Camila, if you’re not feeling well, go rest first."

There was no concern in his tone, only annoyance. He wasn’t worried about me. He just didn’t want the family disgrace ruining his perfect event.

I nodded, swallowing my bitterness, and turned my wheelchair, moving away as fast as I could.

But just as I reached the dimly lit hallway, a firm hand clamped over my mouth, silencing my breath.

Before I could struggle, I was dragged into a private room.

And inside, they were waiting.

The same dozen men who had once humiliated me.

They hadn’t been imprisoned as my brother had promised.

They were here. Free.

Back like demons, forcing me into a corner once more.

A nightmare repeating itself. The blood drained from my face.

Amara stepped forward, her fake innocence slipping away like a mask. Her eyes gleamed with malice, cold and sharp.

"Camila," she sneered, "Wouldn’t it have been better if you’d just stayed dead somewhere? Why come back and compete with me?"

I swallowed the bitter lump of fear in my throat, forcing the words out. "I’ll leave. From now on, the Murphy family will have only one daughter—you."

Amara’s laughter cut through the air, venomous and cruel. "I trust dead people more."

Without warning, she ripped open her dress, disheveled her hair, and flung the door open, wailing like a banshee.

My brother was the first to rush in, and a small army of people was behind him. They stepped over my hand without a second glance, their focus entirely on Amara.

"Amara, what happened? Where are you hurt?" he asked, panic clouding his voice.

Juliette followed, dragging her wedding dress as she hurried after him. Despite having no injury, Amara wailed even louder. "Call an ambulance! Is there a doctor here? Someone, help!"

They all swarmed around Amara, their attention fixed on her theatrics. No one noticed my hand, once again crushed beneath my brother’s foot, the bone piercing through my skin and blood staining the white carpet beneath me.

Amara trembled in my brother’s arms, her eyes swollen and red from crying.

"I just wanted to comfort her," she sniffled, "but she said she’s dirty, and she wanted me to be just as dirty. She brought those men in and tried to..."

"Brother, Sister-in-law, please don’t blame her. Sister was just upset. She didn’t mean it."

My brother’s fury erupted like a storm.

"Amara came to comfort you out of kindness, and you dared hurt her like this?! If this leaves her scarred, I’ll make sure you pay with your life!"

Juliette glanced at me, her gaze full of disappointment.

"You’ve become someone I don’t even recognize anymore. Amara is so kind. How could you treat her like this? You were born rotten. This humiliation is nothing more than karma for how you’ve mistreated Amara all these years!"

Without a second glance at me, they carried Amara away.

Before leaving, my brother threw one last cold remark, "Since you enjoy being humiliated so much, we’ll make sure you get your fill. Lock the door."

The door slammed shut, cutting off my desperate pleas for mercy.

Inside, Juliette hesitated, her voice filled with doubt.

“Honey, are you sure this is okay?"

"What could happen? She brought those men in herself for a show. Do you really think they’d hurt her?"

My brother rushed Amara to the hospital and had her examined top to bottom, and only when he confirmed she was unharmed did he finally remember I even existed.

Letting out a deep sigh, he turned to Juliette. "Tell them to release Camila. She’s my sister, after all. Let this be a lesson for her. When we get back, give her the ruby necklace I just bought. That’s her lucky stone."

As Juliette pulled out her phone, the hotel manager's call came through. "President Murphy, something terrible has happened! Miss Murphy jumped into the sea! All that's left is a medical report."