A flicker of hesitation crossed my parents' faces.

Ethel scoffed. "Oh, please. Stop deluding yourself. You worked right under Logan's nose for how long? If he were actually interested in you, something would've happened ages ago. But with me? One meeting, and the sparks were flying."

That little speech was all it took. The hesitation vanished, replaced by contempt as they turned their glares on me.

"You've always been scheming," my father spat. "Always had to one-up your sister. You knew she struggled in school, and you deliberately took first place every single time just to rub it in. You knew she didn't make much money, that all she could bring home for the holidays was a bag of bananas, and you had to show her up with a gold bracelet!"

"Now you're trying to lie your way into stealing your sister's spotlight. No wonder you ended up crippled. You got exactly what you deserved!"

I froze.

Ethel was only a year younger than me. I'd felt my parents' favoritism since childhood. That was precisely why I'd pushed myself so hard to be better, to be good to them, desperately hoping to earn even a scrap of their love.

I never imagined this was how they saw it. Years of longing for their affection, years of trying, and all I got in return was you deserved it.

An iron fist clenched around my heart, twisting without mercy. The words tore out of me before I could stop them. "If Ethel is all you need, then let's cut ties. For good."

My parents stared for a moment, then let out dismissive laughs.

"A cripple making threats now? Fine. Cut ties. Just don't come crawling back to us in tears."

"That's right. We'll be living the good life with Ethel. Don't you dare come sniffing around for handouts!"

But Ethel was studying me, something calculating behind her eyes. A slow, chilling smile crept across her lips. "If we're cutting ties, let's make it permanent. I don't want this cripple clinging to me like a stray dog begging for scraps after I marry Logan and become Mrs. Stephens."

She raised her hand and drew a finger across her throat.

My parents went rigid. "No!" they said, almost in unison.

I blinked, and despite everything, something complicated stirred in my chest. Even with all their favoritism, when it came down to life and death, they still cared about me...

"Murder carries a death sentence!"

"If Abigail dies, so be it, but killing her would land us in prison too!"

The faint warmth that had kindled inside me went cold in an instant.

They weren't worried about me. They were worried about themselves.

Ethel waved it off. "What does it have to do with us? She's a cripple. Nobody would think twice if she killed herself out of despair, right?"

"Back when I was hiding from debt collectors, I saw people off themselves all the time when they hit rock bottom. Nobody ever investigated. Relax."

Sympathy flooded my parents' eyes, but not for me. "Oh, Ethel, you've had it so rough. But better days are ahead now."

The tenderness in their gazes, set against the coldness they'd shown me moments ago, was a stark contrast.

It was like a blade, severing the last thread of hope I'd been clinging to.

"Why?"

The word ripped out of me, raw and shattered.

"All these years, you've only ever cared about Ethel. And now you want me dead. How can you be this heartless? What did I ever do wrong?"

My breakdown only made them recoil in disgust.

My father barked, "What kind of attitude is that? All these years, even a dog would know to wag its tail and show some gratitude. You're nothing but a cripple now. What right do you have to bark at us?"

My mother wavered slightly. "Abigail may have her faults, but she's still your sister. Do we really have to go that far?"

Ethel's expression twisted with venom. "Yes, we do! Our whole lives, she's lorded it over me. Everything she did was better, everything she had was more. Before, she was at least useful as my personal ATM, so I put up with it. But I'm about to rise to the top, and she's nothing but dead weight now. If I don't settle this score while I can, what, am I supposed to let her stick around and dirty my shoes?"

"Mom, Dad, didn't you just say you'd do anything for me? Well, I want her dead. Right now!"

It was still a human life, after all. Our parents hesitated, unable to commit.

But Ethel's expression twisted into something unhinged. "Once Logan and I are married, imagine the headlines: 'CEO's wife has a crippled sister.' That kind of negative press could tank the stock price. What if he divorces me over it? We're talking about the entire Stephens Group!"

That was all it took. Our parents' eyes hardened, filling with a cold resolve.

For Ethel's sake. For wealth and status. They were actually going to kill me.

But I didn't have time to grieve. All I wanted was to survive.

I was alone, injured, and no match for three people.

Run.

The thought barely formed before Mom locked her arms around my waist. Dad and Ethel each seized a limb, dragging me toward the window.

Half my body hung over the ledge of the sixteenth floor. Freezing wind howled up and tore through my collar.

I was seconds from being shoved over when Mom let out a sharp gasp.

"Wait! There's a patrol car right below us!"

"The officers are already out of the car. If we drop her now, it'll look suspicious!"

They hauled me back inside in a panic.

Ethel glanced down at the street, her expression dark, but she refused to give up.

"Then we move her. The bathroom faces north. Nobody will see her fall from that side. What are you standing around for? You want to wait until the police come upstairs and let Abigail tell them we tried to kill her?"

Our parents caved again.

My heart, still hammering from the near-death seconds before, seized all over again.

Too many disappointments had piled up over the years. I'd long since stopped hoping for anything from this family. If I wanted to survive, I had to prove I was worth more alive.

"Stop! Mr. Stephens is in love with me. He said he wants to marry me! If you kill me, someone with his resources will uncover the truth. And when he does, none of you will escape."

Mom and Dad froze mid-step, their grip loosening instinctively.

Ethel slapped me across the face. "Shut your lying mouth! Logan is in love with me!"

"Who could love a gambling addict?" I shot back without flinching. Seeing the doubt creep across our parents' faces, I forced a conciliatory tone. "Mom, Dad, I know you weren't thinking clearly. If you stop now, I'm willing to share the good fortune with all of you. We're family, after all."

"If you don't believe me, I'll call Mr. Stephens right now and prove it."

That broke them. They wavered completely.

"Ethel," Dad said, uncertain. "Maybe we should let her make the call."

Mom had already retrieved my phone, holding it out. "Go ahead, then..."

Crack.

Ethel snatched the phone and hurled it at the floor. It shattered into pieces.

"So what if I gamble?" she snarled. "Once I have that ten million, I'll pay off every debt. I'll be a clean slate. Logan loves me. Abigail is just stalling for time! Hurry up and finish this before the police knock on the door!"

While our parents stood frozen with indecision, I inched toward the door. Ethel spotted me and drove her foot into my lower abdomen.

The wound tore open. I doubled over, drenched in cold sweat, but I forced the words through clenched teeth. "You're scared, Ethel. That's what this is. You keep saying Mr. Stephens loves you. Where's the proof? Mom, Dad, stop her. If I die, Mr. Stephens will never let you walk free."

My conviction made them waver again.

That was when Ethel, looking like she'd reached her absolute limit, pulled out her phone and tapped the screen.

"I didn't want to show this, but fine. Watch this video. Then tell me you don't believe me."

A wave of obscene sounds filled the room.

Her parents watched with wide eyes, their faces lit up with delight.

"I believe it now! The Mr. Stephens on TV looks exactly like that!"

"Our Ethel really came through! They've already slept together. If he's not going to marry you, who else would he marry?"

I felt as though lightning had struck me. I couldn't believe a single word of it.

Impossible. Absolutely impossible!

Only one thought consumed me now: I had to get out of here. I had to survive. I had to find out the truth.

Bang, bang, bang.

"Police! Open the door!"

"Hel—"

Ethel clamped her hand over my mouth and hissed under her breath.

"Hurry! If we don't do it now, she'll report us to the police and none of us will get off easy!"

My parents didn't hesitate any longer. The three of them hoisted me up together.

To make sure I couldn't fight back, Ethel raised her knee and slammed it into my lower abdomen again.

My scream was smothered against her palm. The pain was so blinding I nearly blacked out, every last ounce of resistance draining from my body.

BANG.

The door was kicked open, but it wasn't just the police who rushed in. Logan was there too, flanked by a wall of bodyguards.

In the split second they shoved me out the window, I saw Logan lunge toward me, panic written across his face.