My diagnosis of cerebellar atrophy shattered my world and exposed my mother’s hidden genetic curse to my father. In a rage, he left us, taking only my healthy sister Chloe. My mother, consumed by guilt, threw herself into my rehab, bringing brief hope. But she vanished a month later, leaving just twenty dollars and a note: Leo, I tried. We’re too poor. Don’t hate me. I didn’t hate her. I understood. They had a healthy daughter to raise. I prayed Chloe would avoid our genetic fate and care for them one day. Crippled, I found work cleaning a banquet hall. A year later, I watched Chloe’s lavish 18th birthday. My parents, well-dressed, supported her—now unsteady like I had been. They looked at her with deep devotion. My mother whispered, “Chloe has symptoms. I wonder how Leo is… I almost told him who we were—” My father cut in coldly, “He’s dead. Why bring him up? That bastard doesn’t deserve to waste Chloe’s inheritance. You already played the devoted mother too long.” Guests applauded: “The Sullivans are so inspiring! By their daughter’s side all year!” I dropped my rag and clapped with my twisted hands. So, they wouldn’t abandon a sick child. They just wouldn’t keep me. 1. As I clapped, a tear escaped and splattered on the polished marble floor. Another soon followed. The floor I had just cleaned was now stained with my sorrow. My department manager, Ms. Albright, had disliked me from day one. She stormed over, grabbed my ear, and yanked my head down until my face was almost pressed against the cold stone. “Are you blind? You expect me to clean up your mess? If one of our wealthy guests slips on this, you couldn’t afford the lawsuit if they sold you for parts, you cripple! A disgusting freak like you, how dare you even look at the Sullivan girl’s party. Don’t tell me you’re getting ideas. Thinking you can hook a rich girl looking like that?” Oh. So I was a rich kid after all. No wonder my mother had the gene but never showed symptoms. No wonder Chloe, despite her unsteadiness, was a living testament to the medical miracles money could buy. Only I had been completely and utterly discarded. A bitter taste rose in my throat. I swallowed back the tears, bowed my head, and apologized. “I… I’m… s-sorry.” Those three words were a mountain my stiff tongue could barely climb. Ms. Albright shoved me away impatiently. “Get it cleaned up, now. Stop shuffling around like that. It’s a bad look. What if the Sullivans see you? You’ll ruin their night!” I quickly wiped away my tears and let her push me toward the back corridor. But then, a voice stopped us. My mother’s voice. “Wait.” It was stern, yet carried a familiar tenderness I knew all too well. It was the same voice she used when she playfully tapped my nose while helping me with homework, the same proud tone when she bought me a three-dollar cupcake for my birthday, the same voice that had suddenly whispered “I’m sorry” on the way to my first rehab session. I had always thought she was apologizing for hiding her medical history. Now I knew it was just a formality, a final courtesy for the son she was about to throw away. My body went rigid. I tucked my head deeper into my chest, my hunched back making it easy to hide. Please don’t recognize me. Please. Thankfully, she only approached to hand over two thick envelopes. “A little something for the staff. Thank you for your hard work on my daughter's special day.” She had seen our uniforms and was simply observing etiquette. The cash in those envelopes could probably buy me a truckload of cupcakes. Ms. Albright snatched them, bowing and scraping, her mouth a waterfall of flattery. But my mother pulled one back and held it out to me. “Looking at you… you remind me of a condition I’m familiar with. I had a son… if he were alive, he might have ended up looking like you.” Good. She didn't recognize me. When she left, I was only just starting to stumble like Chloe. Now, my limbs were contorted, my face was a twisted mask, and my body was a broken question mark. Nothing human remained. Her eyes welled up with tears. Ms. Albright rushed to offer her a tissue, then gave me another vicious shove. “Look what you did, you deadbeat! You made Mrs. Sullivan sad! Apologize!” My disobedient lips moved, but the words wouldn't come out. My mother waved a dismissive, magnanimous hand. “Don’t blame him. In fact, I should thank him. Seeing him now… I see that my son is better off dead. Otherwise, if he had turned into… this… Ugh. In a way, I suppose I saved him.” Oh, how easily they forgave themselves. A bitter smile twisted my already crooked lips. But as I glanced at Chloe, beaming in the distance, I couldn't even muster the energy for hatred. As I turned to leave, the broom slipped from my grasp and crashed to the floor. The loud clatter echoed through the marble hall, drawing every eye. My father’s gaze, sharp and venomous, shot toward me. I knew I was in trouble. 2. He strode over in a few quick steps, his finger jabbing at my face. Conscious of his image as a billionaire philanthropist, he hissed his curses under his breath. “Is your boss insane? Hiring a monster like this to serve at my daughter’s party? You startled our honored guests, and now they have to look at your half-man, half-ghost face. If you give someone a heart attack, ten of your worthless lives wouldn’t be enough to pay for it!” My eyes burned. But this face, this body… it was the direct result of his carelessness before marriage, my mother's deliberate concealment, and their joint decision to abandon me. Ms. Albright was frantic, her bow deepening. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Sullivan, it was an oversight! Our owner insists on these… charity cases… to maintain the company’s philanthropic image. I’ll take this ugly freak away and teach him a lesson right now!” My father shot me a sideways glance, wrinkling his nose in disgust before turning to my mother. “It’s a good thing that little bastard is dead. If he were alive and looked like this, we’d have nightmares. I told you to give up on him the moment we found out. You and your soft heart. It almost caused a disaster.” I was used to my father’s hostility. Even as a child, whenever my mother showed me affection, his eyes would smolder with rage. “Why do you dote on him so much? I’m your husband! If you put half that effort into our daughter, she’d be a prodigy by now!” I never understood why he saw his own son as a rival, but from then on, our family began to live a "poor" life. It was all part of his "starvation education" philosophy—only through hardship could one become great. I guess their plan was to reveal the truth at our coming-of-age parties. But I never made it. On my 18th birthday, while eating that cheap cupcake, I collapsed, my head hitting the table with a sickening crack. The hospital visit revealed the truth: hereditary cerebellar atrophy. And just like that, I missed the grand reveal. Or perhaps, I had simply fulfilled my father’s deepest wish. Seeing how slowly I moved, Ms. Albright lost her patience, grabbed me by the collar, and began dragging me across the floor. The fabric bit into my neck, cutting off the air. My face turned a dark shade of purple as my twisted hands clawed uselessly at my throat. My muffled gasps only made me look more grotesque. My mother, struck by a pang of pity, started to move forward, but my father held her back. “Don’t you get it yet? People like him are better off dead. Having him wander around a place like this is an eyesore. Besides, living in that useless body is worse than being a dog. It’s a mercy, really.” He chuckled, a smug, quiet sound, before smoothing his suit and returning to the party to network for his precious daughter’s future. I clawed at my collar, my bulging eyes watching it all. For the first time, I understood what it felt like for one's heart to turn to ash. You already let me die once. Do you really need me to die a second time? At least Chloe hadn’t seen this cruel spectacle. I looked at the large portrait of her by the entrance, her smile as bright and innocent as the day we’d stolen candy together. Chloe, please, live well for me. 3. I had considered suicide when my body first began its horrifying transformation. The boy who had been a track and field champion was now a gnarled, decaying piece of driftwood. No one could bear to look at me. But my twisted hands were too weak to even properly slice my own wrist. I was found and saved. The doctor who stitched me up was beautiful, but her voice was as cold as ice. She held my bandaged wrist, her words a thunderclap. “Dying will only prove that you really are useless.” She was right. It was pathetic. I was drowning in a swamp created by others' mistakes, and my only solution was to plunge my head under. But as an abandoned child, what other path was there? Seeing the empty "Family Information" section on my chart, she bit her lip and handed me a business card. “When you’re discharged, take this to the Aethelgard Grand Hotel. There will be a suitable job waiting for you. Once you can support yourself, the temptation of death will fade.” I looked at the name on the card—Stella Thorne—and a faint smile touched my lips. Even you don’t recognize me, yet you’re telling me to live. In high school, she was the only girl immune to my good looks. While others practically threw themselves at me, she would always detour to avoid the crowds I drew. I knew she was the daughter of some mysterious tycoon. Back then, living in my parents’ fabricated world of poverty, I knew a girl like her was out of my league. Still, a strange, unspoken feeling had always simmered beneath the surface. For three years, we were parallel lines that never crossed. The next time we met, I was a monster who had tried to kill himself, and she was my aloof, brilliant attending physician. Before I was discharged, I swallowed my pride and asked her to issue a fake death certificate and help me create a new identity. She simply sighed and agreed. From the gossip of the nurses who adored her, I learned that the Aethelgard, the most luxurious hotel in the city, was just one of her family’s many assets. But this rebellious heiress had defied her family’s wishes, choosing medicine over money. I once asked her why she was helping me. She just gazed out the window, a distant look in her eyes. “Your name is the same as a high school classmate of mine. Only…” I knew the part she swallowed: He was much more handsome. So she did remember me. It was almost a relief that she couldn't connect the handsome boy from her past with the broken creature before her now. Perfect. My speech was slurred, like a true patient. “Okay. I’ll live. I’ll be your success story.” If it meant seeing her a few more times before I died, it was worth it. I took the card to the hotel, but my luck ran out. The department manager, Ms. Albright, was furious about a backdoor hire like me. She assumed I was just some charity case the owner's daughter had picked up to maintain the company’s philanthropic image and never gave me a shred of respect. I heard Stella had gone abroad for advanced studies. Without her protection, I was just trying to survive. But having a job, a way to feed myself, had indeed banished the desire for death. I just hoped I could hold on until she came back, just to show her I had kept my word. But now, I could feel the last bit of air leaving my lungs. My vision was blurring. Ms. Albright’s grip didn’t loosen. It seemed the time I had stolen from fate was finally due. Suddenly, a voice, also struggling with clarity, cut through the haze. “Let him go! You’re killing him!” 4. It took me a long moment to focus on the person standing before me. It was Chloe. Memories flooded my mind: sneaking a piece of melted candy in the middle of the night in that deliberately run-down house; acting as lookouts for each other while watching TV; finding a dollar on the street and buying a single popsicle to break in half and share… I had always believed that no matter how poor we were, we would always have each other. But the girl before me now, in her magnificent gown and perfectly styled hair, was from another world. Even with her faltering steps, it was clear she and I were no longer the same. Ms. Albright looked flustered. She bowed again. “Miss Sullivan, this… this thing startled you. I was just taking him away. Don’t worry, I know my limits. I won’t ruin your party.” “That doesn’t give you the right to torture a sick man!” Chloe retorted, her voice choked with emotion. “If my brother were still alive, he might have ended up like this…” Good. In their minds, he was already gone. I fought back tears, burying my face deeper into my chest. Chloe slowly knelt in front of me. “Don’t be afraid. You’re still able to work. That’s amazing. The hospital my parents found is incredible; I’ve already improved so much. They say a full recovery is possible. When I’m better, I’ll come find you. I’ll use my allowance to pay for your treatment.” I remembered Stella mentioning that hospital. The treatment cost tens of millions. The sister who once shared a single piece of candy with me now had an allowance that large. A wave of bitterness washed over me, but I pushed it down, leaving only a sliver of relief. I nodded numbly. The next second, my father, who had come looking for Chloe, was screaming at me. “You monster! My daughter shows you a little kindness and you dare to accept? Who do you think you are!” He lunged forward and kicked me hard in the ribs, his carefully crafted gentlemanly facade completely gone. Chloe rushed to stop him. “Dad! When we were kids, you used to sneak me out for Michelin-star dinners after he was asleep. You took me for golf and riding lessons while he was out collecting bottles. You always said boys have it easy later in life, but girls need to be cultivated early. I kept your secret for you. I owe him so much. Helping this man is a way to honor my brother's memory. Are you going to stop me from doing even that?” My body went cold. I never imagined my sister’s acting skills were honed at such a young age. My father looked awkward. My mother just stood by, weeping silently. “You saw the way he was walking! You had nightmares for weeks, crying every night! It broke my heart! And after you found out about our real fortune, weren't you the one who was worried he would just be a drain on your inheritance? You said once he got married, his wife would take it all anyway, that boys are never as loyal as daughters. You were the one who begged me to get you away from him! Then you cried for your mother, so she stayed with that jinx for a month before coming back to you. Honey, we don’t owe that bastard a thing. The three of us, living our best life—that’s all that matters!” My twisted fingers dug into the cheap fabric of my uniform as I fought to keep from sobbing. So, the one person I thought was innocent, my sister, was the true architect of my downfall. I thought I had only lost my looks, but it turned out my entire life was a clown’s script. And now, I was finally playing the part without a mask. Chloe let out a long sigh. “You’re right. I was born a princess, but I had to suffer through all those years of poverty just to trick him. I suppose I’ve done my part.” She held out an envelope to Ms. Albright. “Pretend I never said anything. Take him away and deal with him according to your rules.” Ms. Albright’s face split into a grin. She bowed so low her head nearly touched the floor, then grabbed my collar again. This time, I didn't struggle. I let her pull, feeling the deep, bruising pressure on my neck. In my final moments, I thought of Stella Thorne, and a tiny corner of my heart felt a sudden warmth. I’m sorry. I couldn’t keep my promise. It’s just… living is so damn hard. Ms. Albright had only dragged me a few feet when a glass bottle flew through the air and smashed against his head. He yelped in pain and let go, cursing loudly. Then I heard a cold, clear female voice. “Is this how you treat my patient?” I thought I was hallucinating, that death was playing tricks on me. But there she was. Stella Thorne, standing not far away, a carry-on suitcase at her feet. She looked at me, her eyes filled with a disappointed anger. “Leo Sullivan. Are you giving up again? Did you forget what you promised me?” At the sound of that name, the family trio, who had been about to return to the party, froze in their tracks.
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