1 My stepbrother Felix and I hated each other purely and utterly. The year our love story should have begun was when his father married my mother. Love soured instantly, while hate grew wild. He told the press I was promiscuous; I printed his nudes on flyers and scattered them across Silverport. He scalded me with boiling water; I pushed him down the stairs and broke his leg. He locked me in the cellar for three days; I got out and shredded the only photo of his late mother, burning the pieces before his eyes. This was our war—until I was diagnosed with metastasized cancer. One month left. I sat long on the rooftop in heavy silence, then drafted a timed text set to send in a month: “Felix, I’m tired. I’m checking out early. Have the last laugh: come sign the consent form for my body donation.” But that afternoon, a woman named Seraphina Hale came to my door. She wore a pristine white dress, untouched by dust. “Felix says you’re just like your mother. You both make him sick.” Looking at her angelic face, I laughed. Perfect. A distraction for my final days. … Seraphina lifted a hand, theatrically tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The light glinting off the massive diamond on her ring finger was blinding. I recognized it. It was the rare pink diamond auctioned at Sotheby’s last month, sold to a mysterious buyer for a staggering thirty-six million dollars. The auctioneer had breathlessly announced it was an engagement gift for the buyer’s fiancée. So, it was Felix. I wasn’t surprised. He knew how to love, how to lavish affection on someone. When my stomach was weak, he’d learned over a hundred recipes just for me. The gifts were endless, each one more creative than the last. A familiar, acidic tang of memory rose in my throat, sharp and swift, threatening to breach the fortress of hate I’d built around my heart. Seraphina caught my flicker of weakness. A mocking smile played on her lips as she twisted the pink diamond, making it catch the light. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Felix bought it for me. It’s my engagement ring.” She leaned in, her voice a sweet poison. “He said only a girl as delicate and pure as me deserved a color so… pristine.” “As for you…” She paused, her eyes sweeping over me with contempt. “You’re just like your homewrecking mother. Old, washed up, and rotten to the core.” I remained unimpressed. Her sentence was punctuated by a sharp scream as my hand connected with her face, leaving a perfect set of red marks. “Didn’t Felix ever tell you I have a temper?” Before the words had even settled, the door burst open. Felix rushed in, sweeping the trembling Seraphina into his protective embrace. He looked up, his eyes filled with the cold fire I knew so well. “Cecilia Vance. Apologize to Sera.” I didn't even bother to look at him. “Your little pet was barking. I don’t like the noise.” A cold snort from above me. “So, Sera mentioned your tramp of a mother, did she? Was she wrong? She was nothing but a whore who climbed into my father’s bed.” After ten years of tearing each other apart, Felix knew exactly where to twist the knife. He knew the only thing that could still get under my skin was my mother, who had thrown herself into the sea a year ago. I finally looked up, a slow smile spreading across my face as I crumpled a napkin on the table into a tight ball. The moment he bent to comfort Seraphina, I moved. I grabbed his jaw, pried his mouth open, and shoved the wad of paper inside. To make sure it went down, I grabbed the fresh, scalding coffee and poured it right after. “I told you,” I hissed, “my mother was not a homewrecker.” “Your father forced her. He forced her to marry him.” The dark brown liquid, mixed with a smear of blood from his bitten lip, trickled down his jaw, leaving a raw, red path. Seraphina gasped in horror. Felix, however, was unfazed. He pushed his tongue against his cheek, a defiant glint in his eye. “Cecilia, you always were a piss-poor liar.” He spat the soggy, disgusting paper onto the floor, his lips curled in a sneer. “My mother’s body wasn’t even cold. The incense in her memorial hall hadn’t even burned out, and your mother was already in her nightgown, sleeping in my father’s bed!” His voice rose, raw with an undisguised, venomous hatred. “I saw it with my own eyes!” “You’re telling me that was forced? That was against her will? She was a goddamn vulture, a parasite who saw her chance and took it!” “And you, Cecilia Vance,” he spat, “you have her blood. You’re just as cheap, just as filthy.” I’d explained what really happened a thousand times, but hate had long since blinded him. The truth meant nothing. Felix released Seraphina and advanced on me, his shadow swallowing me whole. “Apologize. This is your last chance.” I tilted my head back to meet his gaze, a smile stretched across my face. My voice was clear. “In your dreams.” Felix nodded slowly, his expression blank, but his eyes darkened. “Fine. Just fine.” He didn’t say another word. He just turned, put his arm around Seraphina, and walked out. Less than half an hour later, a group of men in black suits stormed in. They moved with a practiced wariness, their eyes constantly on me as they silently, methodically, destroyed everything in sight. I recognized them as Felix’s long-time security—they remembered how terrifying I could be when I lost control. But this time, I just sat on the floor, hugging my knees. Motionless. A cold observer. I watched as the only sanctuary my mother and I ever had was reduced to a pile of wreckage. The last man left, and a dead silence descended. Dust motes danced in the shafts of dying sunlight that pierced through the shattered window. Suddenly, an uncontrollable, coppery warmth surged up from deep in my throat. I doubled over. A mouthful of hot, bright red blood splattered onto the floorboards. The color was shocking. I stared at the pool for a moment before slowly, mechanically, wiping the stain from the corner of my mouth. Oh, right. One month. The countdown had already begun. I don’t know how long I sat there. Eventually, I bent down and rummaged through the debris, pulling a half-crushed pack of damp cigarettes from under an overturned coffee table. I shook one out and lit it. The red ember glowed, a tiny spark in the deepening twilight. The smoke burned my lungs, triggering another wracking, suppressed cough. My phone screen kept flashing with the latest celebrity gossip. [Thorne Industries Heir Spends Millions on New Flame, Rumored Final Split with Infamous Stepsister.] [Seraphina Hale Flaunts Priceless Pink Diamond, Is the Tragic Heroine Finally a Thing of the Past?] The article was accompanied by a photo of Felix assembling a team of the best doctors in Silverport to treat Seraphina. The consultation fees alone were in the millions. The comments were a sea of envy, praising the beautiful couple and congratulating the heir for finally finding true love and escaping a toxic, twisted relationship. I swiped the notification away and took one last drag from the cigarette, crushing the butt on the floor. How they celebrated their love story, how they speculated about our ending—none of it mattered to me anymore. Hate takes energy. And all the energy I had left was barely enough to keep me breathing. The next day, I went to the hospital for a check-up. The doctor frowned, his brow deeply furrowed as he studied my latest scans. “Miss Vance, you need to be admitted immediately for treatment! You can’t put this off any longer!” I leaned back in the chair, feeling drained. “Just give me some painkillers.” “This is beyond what painkillers can manage! You need—” “The cheapest ones you have,” I cut him off, my eyes lifting to meet his. “I don’t have any money.” The doctor’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked into my dead, empty eyes and let out a heavy sigh, scribbling a prescription on his pad. I picked up the prescription from the pharmacy window. It was a small, flimsy plastic bag. Inside were a few blister packs of the most basic painkillers—cheap, white pills with minimal effect. But they might just be enough to dull the pain that felt like it was boring into my bones. Clutching the pathetically light bag, I walked slowly toward the exit. The sunlight was harsh, and I lifted a hand to shield my eyes. In that instant, a rough hand snatched the bag from my grasp. I stumbled, looking up to meet Felix’s mocking gaze. He dangled the bag of cheap medicine in front of him, his eyes raking over my pale face before letting out a cold sneer. “You look like death. Upset about the news? Seeing me and Sera so happy?” The searing pain in my gut left no room for a witty comeback. I just stared at the bag in his hand. “Give them back.” A provocative smile spread across his face. He opened his fingers, letting the bag drop to the dusty ground. Then, he raised his polished leather shoe and ground it under his heel. The white tablets popped from their foil casing, crushed into a fine powder mixed with grime. “Oops. Slipped,” he said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. “But hey, if you crawl into my bed wearing one of Sera’s nightgowns, maybe I’ll call that team of doctors for you. What do you say?” He was so close, his words steeped in malice. But deep in his eyes, staring intently at me, was a flicker of something else—a longing he himself didn't seem to recognize. I looked at him, and a very small, very quiet laugh escaped my lips. His expression shifted, thinking, perhaps, that I was about to yield. Instead, I bent down, snatched a sharp-edged rock from the ground, and hurled it with all my might at the shimmering black Maybach parked behind him. As the car alarm shrieked to life, my voice was calm, utterly devoid of emotion. “You stepped on my medicine. I smashed your car.” “We’re even.” The sudden movement was too much. The metallic taste of blood surged up my throat again. Not wanting Felix to see the pathetic sight of me spitting up blood, I staggered, trying to get away. He chased after me, his voice edged with a strange urgency. “Even? In your dreams, Cecilia! You and that mother of yours will never be able to repay what you owe mine!” I was so tired of his broken record. I spun around and slapped him, hard, three times across the face. He clutched his cheek, staring at me in disbelief. In that moment of shock, a taxi pulled up to the curb. I wrenched the door open and collapsed inside, the iron taste in my throat now impossible to suppress. “Drive!” I rasped at the driver, my voice a shattered wreck. Startled, the driver slammed his foot on the gas. Through the rear window, Felix’s dark, furious face shrank into the distance. Back home, the living room was still in ruins. I couldn’t hold on any longer. I found a clear patch on the floor and curled into a ball, wrapping my arms around myself. The agony came back in a torrential wave, more violent than ever before. Without the painkillers to buffer it, the pain was naked and sharp, like a thousand red-hot knives scraping between my bones. My vision blurred, the world doubling. In my delirium, the wreckage around me seemed to melt away. It was a sunny afternoon, many years ago. Before Felix was my stepbrother. He was just a boy who would sneak out of school, climbing the wall just to bring me a glass of ice-cold lemonade. “Cece, from now on, what’s mine is yours.” “And if anyone ever bullies you, they’ll have to go through me first!” The boy’s earnest vow still echoed in my ears, but a second later, the image shattered. It was replaced by the stark white of a memorial hall, by the black-and-white portrait of his mother. Replaced by the look in his eyes when he stared at me—a look poisoned with a hatred as deep as the sea. “You have her blood. You’re just as cheap, just as filthy!” The hate was an icicle plunged into my heart, shattering the last, fragile illusion of warmth. The agony crested again, yanking me back to reality. A violent cough tore through my chest, and I leaned forward, vomiting another spray of blood onto the floor. It was a terrifying sight. Pain. Endless, boundless pain. The double vision was getting worse; I could barely see. Curled in the cold corner, my nails scraped unconsciously against the floorboards, leaving faint white lines. Maybe I would just die here. No one would ever know. Not until the smell of my rotting body alerted the neighbors. And then Felix would find out. What would his expression be? Vindicated satisfaction? The joy of a wish finally granted? Or would he… My consciousness began to fade, the pain turning into a dull, distant throb. Just as I was about to slip into the darkness for good, my phone began to ring, a shrill, insistent sound that refused to stop. I fumbled for it, my blurry eyes barely making out the screen. An unknown number. But in some deep, forgotten corner of my heart, a tiny, pathetic spark of hope I didn't want to acknowledge flickered to life. Could it be him? With a trembling finger, I swiped to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. My throat was thick with the taste of blood; I couldn’t make a sound. There was silence on the other end for two seconds. And then. A woman's voice, one I would never forget, slurred but triumphant. “Cecilia Vance? It’s Seraphina.” “Felix asked me to call and let you know that the bill for the car repairs will be delivered to you tomorrow.” She let out a soft, saccharine laugh. “I heard you’re buying the cheapest painkillers these days, so you must be short on cash.” “If you can’t pay, you could always do what your mother did. Just spread your legs. I’m sure someone will be willing to foot the bill for you.” The line went dead, the dial tone a piercing shriek. Seraphina’s final words were a blunt knife, sawing back and forth on my last nerve. It seemed the last lesson hadn’t been harsh enough. She still had the audacity to provoke me. A fire of rage and hate ignited in my chest, momentarily burning away the all-consuming pain. I was dying anyway. Before I go, she deserves a real lesson. One that ensures that pretty mouth of hers can never insult my mother again. I knew which hospital Seraphina was in; Felix had booked an entire VIP floor for her. I changed into a nondescript cleaner’s uniform and blended in with the shift change, easily slipping past the heavy security. Pushing a cleaning cart, I kept my head down and moved steadily down the hall. “What are you doing here?” a guard stopped me. I pitched my voice low and raspy. “Changing the linens.” Maybe it was my deathly pale face or the scent of disinfectant clinging to me, but he just frowned and waved me through. Inside the room, Seraphina was propped up in bed, examining her still-bruised lip in a hand mirror. She looked up when she heard me enter. When she saw it was me, her pupils contracted. Her mouth opened to scream for help. Before a sound could escape, I lunged. I threw all my remaining strength into pinning her against the headboard, prying her mouth open. I emptied a bottle of industrial-grade superglue straight into it. “Mmph!” Seraphina’s eyes widened in sheer terror. She thrashed wildly, her nails digging bloody furrows into my arms. But it was too late. The adhesive reacted almost instantly. Her lips, her tongue, her teeth—all of it was sealed shut. She could no longer form a single word, only choked, desperate whimpers of agony. I let her go, watching coldly as her beautiful face twisted in a mask of fear. “Your mouth is so filthy,” I said. “Best not to use it anymore.” With that, I turned and walked away. The moment I pulled the door open, I collided with a hard chest. Felix was here. His eyes took in the scene, and his face instantly turned to stone. He shoved me aside and rushed into the room. “Sera!” I didn’t look back at the chaos. I ran. The moment the elevator doors closed, I coughed up another mouthful of blood. The last of my strength drained away with it. I knew Felix wouldn't let this go, but I had nothing left to fight his retaliation. I used my last bit of cash to rent a single room in a rundown tenement in the city’s grimiest corner. Unable to find me, a furious Felix posted on his public social media feed: [Ten-million-dollar reward for the location of Cecilia Vance. She will pay for what she did to my fiancée.] The post included a picture of Seraphina’s horrifically sealed lips and a doctor’s official diagnosis. Silverport was in an uproar. The reward drove people mad. The ugly history of my war with Felix was dredged up all over again. My name became synonymous with “psychopath,” and my not-so-secret hiding place was quickly exposed. From then on, there was no peace. People were camped outside my door day and night, their phone cameras pointed at my window. At first, they just watched. Then, when they got no reaction, they started pounding on the door, screaming obscenities. During the brief lulls when the pain subsided, I would scream back through the thin wood. But those moments became rarer and rarer. Most of the time, I just lay on the moldy mattress, feeling my life force rapidly draining away. I don’t know how many days passed before my phone buzzed with a breaking news alert. The headline, "Thorne Industries Heir to Marry Tomorrow," was followed by a bright red “BREAKING” tag. Tomorrow. I stared at the date, my fogged brain clearing for just a moment. That was the day my timed text was set to send. I wonder if he’ll like his wedding present. The next day, photos and videos of the wedding flooded the internet. I leaned against the cold wall, my blurry eyes fixed on the screen as he slid that priceless pink diamond onto Seraphina’s finger. The very second the ring settled on her knuckle, my own phone screen lit up. Message Sent.
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