Chapter 1

"I used your chemo money for the down payment on Leo's new house."

Mom said it casually, like she was commenting on the weather.

I lay in the hospital bed, my mind completely blank.

"Mom... what did you just say?"

She sat by the edge of the bed, peeling an orange without looking up.

"The doctor told us your chances are slim anyway, with or without treatment," she said, her voice completely flat. "Leo was fifty grand short on his down payment, so I gave it to him."

A suffocating weight slammed into my chest. Tears burned behind my eyes as I struggled to speak. "Mom, that was my life-saving money. I worked myself to the bone for that."

She finally looked at me with those chillingly calm eyes. "Your brother needs a house to get married and carry on the family name. Be understanding, Chloe."

Be understanding.

That word had haunted my entire life.

Because I was the older sister, the daughter, I was always expected to yield, to sacrifice, to suffer in silence.

Not this time.

I was literally dying.

The sweet scent of the orange spread through the sterile room, turning my stomach.

I turned my head away, unable to look at her.

"I didn't have a choice," she continued, pieces of orange peel falling between her fingers. "Leo finally found a girl who's willing to marry him. But she made it clear: no house, no wedding."

Mom smiled slightly, holding up three fingers like she’d just struck the deal of a lifetime.

"Fifty thousand dollars can secure Leo a wife and a future. But if we throw it at your treatments, that money is gone for good. You're a smart girl, Chloe. You can do the math."

I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to argue.

My throat was dry, yet my tears kept flowing.

What was the point of arguing? Had I ever won a single battle in that family?

She held out a peeled segment of the orange. Plump, juicy, glistening under the fluorescent lights.

Growing up, an orange slice was the ultimate reward I craved. Only if I got straight A's and obeyed every command was I allowed a tiny bite.

Now, it looked like poison.

When I didn't reach for it, she didn't get mad. She casually tossed it back onto the tray and wiped her fingers with a napkin.

"I already talked to Dr. Evans. We're discharging you tomorrow. Since there's no cure anyway, resting at home is the same thing."

She stood up, grabbed her luxury leather tote, and walked out.

I bought her that bag with my very first paycheck.

The door clicked shut. It sounded like a death sentence.

The room smelled of antiseptic and lingering citrus—a mocking, bitter sweetness.

A hollow laugh escaped my lips. I covered my face, finally letting the tears fall.

An understanding child?

All through childhood, Leo's room overflowed with toys, while I was only allowed his broken hand-me-downs.

When Leo failed his classes, Mom paid thousands for private tutors. When I got into an elite high school, they nearly pulled me out because they didn't want to pay my tuition.

After college, most of my paycheck was handed over to Mom every month under the excuse of "helping the family"—money that went straight into Leo's bottomless pockets.

And now, they were stripping away my right to take another breath.

My chest tightened violently. A harsh cough tore through my lungs, bringing up a metallic taste. I pulled back my hand to find bright red blood smeared across my palm.

Looking at that crimson stain, the last shred of my obedience shattered.

I clenched my fists.

I wasn't going to roll over and die for them.