The day my biological family finally came to take me home, there was a car accident. My parents and the fake son who had taken my place, Julian, were all declared dead. Only my sister, Victoria, survived. From that day on, she hated me to the bone. She blamed me for the accident and the subsequent bankruptcy of the family company. To atone for my "sins," I worked over a dozen jobs a day. Every cent I earned, I handed over to Victoria. I did it all to help her buy back the family estate, the villa filled with their memories. But the day I finally saved enough money, I walked up to the villa and saw the impossible. My "dead" parents were inside, alive and well, celebrating Julian's birthday. Even Victoria, usually cold as ice, was smiling gently at them. When the cake was brought out, my mother mentioned me: "It's Jace's birthday today too, isn't it? We've punished him for eight years. Maybe we should bring him back?" Victoria refused instantly: "We agreed on ten years. He needs to learn his lesson so he never dares suggest sending Julian away again. Not a year less!" I clutched my medical diagnosis in my hand and laughed until tears ran down my face. But Victoria... I don't have two years. I'm going to die soon. It took me two hours to rummage through the apartment and find a blister pack of ibuprofen. I didn't know if it was expired, and I didn't care. I swallowed the pills dry, praying they would dull the pain that felt like a drill boring into my skull. I had just curled up on my cot in the corner of the living room when Victoria came home. Seeing me resting, pale-faced and eyes closed, she frowned. She stormed over, grabbed a handful of my hair, and dragged me into the guest bedroom. This room was a shrine. It held the memorial tablets for Mom, Dad, and Julian. I had knelt on the futon before these tablets thousands of times over the last eight years. Enduring the stinging pain in my scalp, I knelt down, numbness taking over. Victoria released my hair, her voice dripping with ice. "Today is the anniversary of Mom, Dad, and Julian's death. I spent the whole day cleaning their graves, yet you have the audacity to lie here and rest?" "If not for you, they would still be alive! You will spend your entire life paying for those three lives!" "It’s been eight years since you killed them. Tonight, you stay on your knees. Eight hundred kowtows. Don't stop until you're done." But I knew the truth now. Earlier that day, I saw her at the villa—the one she claimed was foreclosed. She was celebrating Julian's birthday with the parents she claimed were dead because of me. I fought back the nausea caused by the pressure in my brain and asked, voice raspy: "Why haven't you ever taken me to their graves to apologize in person?" Victoria paused, then looked at me with disgust. "An animal like you would only dirty their path to the afterlife." "Jace, don't try to stall. If you miss a single kowtow, you're not sleeping tonight!" I closed my eyes. My mind replayed the truth I had uncovered today. There were no graves. They didn't buy plots because they thought it was bad luck for living people. All those times Victoria said she was visiting their graves—leaving me to kneel for hours—she was actually visiting Julian. They called it "punishment." All because eight years ago, when I found out about my true parentage over the phone, I asked them to send Julian away. He reacted by threatening to slit his wrists. So, for eight years, I carried the guilt of "killing" my parents. I let Victoria vent her hatred on me. A sharp blow to the back of my head snapped me back to reality. Victoria was forcing my head to the floor, again and again. "I told you to kowtow! Are you deaf?" "Jace, do you think a little suffering is enough to wash away your sins?" Blood soon trickled down my forehead. Maybe the ibuprofen was working, or maybe my nerves were dying, but I didn't feel much pain. But before I could feel relieved, a familiar numbness spread through my limbs. I lost control of my body and collapsed sideways. Victoria stared at me, watching my breathing grow shallow. It took her a moment to react. She pulled me up, looking flustered. "What kind of act is this? Fine, I'll take you to the hospital." Just as we stepped out of the room, her phone rang. It was a specific, custom ringtone. She froze. After a second of hesitation, she dropped me back onto the floor and rushed outside to answer the call. I lay on the floor for a while, but eventually, I couldn't hold it back. I vomited acid all over the floor. I recognized that ringtone. I had heard it many times before. Only today did I realize it was the special tone she set for Julian. While I was heaving, dizzy and sick, Victoria returned, her face dark. Seeing that I had vomited on her designer bag on the sofa, her anger exploded. She slapped me across the face. "You dared to ruin the gift Julian gave me? I shouldn't have been soft on you!" The next second, I was dragged back to the memorial room. Victoria forced me to finish the kowtows. Only after she counted eight hundred did she let go of me, barely conscious. "Stay on your knees. You can leave when I'm no longer angry." I don't know how long I was out. I woke up to knocking on the door. I stumbled to open it. It was the landlady, Mrs. Higgins, coming for the rent. Before she could scold me, she saw the blood on my face and gasped. "Oh my god, child! What happened to you? Come, let me take you to the hospital." At the hospital, after the tests, Mrs. Higgins was heartbroken. "You poor thing... you're so young. How could it be brain cancer?" Seeing me pale, thin, and unable to eat, she called her son to bring homemade soup and fed me spoonful by spoonful. My eyes welled up. Eight years ago, when I found out my biological parents weren't the abusive couple who raised me, this was the kind of mother I had dreamed of. Mrs. Higgins wiped my tears gently. "Don't cry, honey. We'll treat it. You can get better." I shook my head. I transferred the last of my wages—money I was supposed to give to Victoria—to Mrs. Higgins. "Thank you, Mrs. Higgins. But it's malignant. It’s too late." "This isn't enough for the rent and the medical bills you paid, but I promise, I'll find a way to pay you back." She tried to persuade me, but I insisted on discharging myself. As I walked down the hallway, passing a consultation room, I heard Victoria’s voice. "Mom, you shouldn't have mentioned Jace yesterday. Julian had a nightmare that Jace came back to kick him out." Then, Julian’s tearful voice: "I'm so scared he'll come back and make me leave. If I can't be with Mom, Dad, and Vicky, I'd rather die!" Through the crack in the door, our eyes met. Julian immediately screamed. "He's here! He's really here to kick me out!" He ran to the window and leaned half his body out. "Don't send me away! I don't want to go back to being abused by the Millers! If you don't want me, I'll jump!" Mom, Dad, and Victoria turned pale with terror, rushing to pull him back. Once Julian was safe, Dad and Victoria turned on me. Their faces were grim. They marched over and kicked me to the ground before I could even turn away. I clutched my stomach, coughing up blood. Victoria grabbed me by the throat. "Jace! You stalked us here? You almost killed Julian again!" "I'm going to make you feel the fear Julian just felt!" She and Dad dragged me to the rooftop. They tied my hands and dangled me over the edge. "This is just a small lesson. If you scare Julian again, it won't be just dangling!" Listening to their footsteps fade away, I felt like I had run out of tears for this lifetime. I was the one switched at birth. I was the one abused for eighteen years by strangers. I was their flesh and blood. But just because I didn't want to live with the son of my abusers, my own family deceived and tortured me for years. Now, they left me hanging off a building, terrified I would fall. I wasn't resigned. I didn't want to die like this. I tried desperately to grip the rope. But the tumor was pressing on my nerves. My right hand was losing feeling. My left hand wasn't strong enough. No matter how hard I gritted my teeth, the knot on my wrist was slipping. I was sliding down, inch by inch. Just as I thought I was going to fall, Mrs. Higgins' frantic voice rang out from above. "He's here! Help! Someone help him!" I ended up hospitalized for another five days because of the muscle strain from hanging. When I finally returned to the apartment, Victoria was waiting, arms crossed, eyes dark. She sneered. "Jace, you've got guts. Running away? Did you think anyone would look for you?" "Crawling back after five days... I thought you had more backbone than that." I looked at her, my voice hoarse. "I tore the muscles in my arms from hanging there too long. I was in the hospital. It wouldn't be hard for the great Victoria Sterling to verify that." She stiffened, her expression softening slightly. "I thought Dad would have let you down sooner. Whatever." "You know now that Mom and Dad aren't dead. We just wanted you to learn to be sensible. To stop targeting Julian." "You still failed the test, but you are blood. After today, you can move into the Sterling mansion." Before I could speak, she added: "But first, you have to apologize to Julian. Promise him you will never suggest sending him away again." I refused flatly.
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