Seven years after I vanished, my brother found me on an organ donation registry. He stared at the file in the nurse’s hands, his brow furrowed as he took in the photo and the name I used to go by. “Where is she?” “Palliative care, twelfth floor. Today’s the last day she’ll be lucid. The surgery is tomorrow.” His face a thundercloud, he stormed up to the twelfth floor. When he shoved the door open, he found me writing my last will and testament. “Vicky.” I looked up, a placid smile touching my lips. “You must have the wrong person, Mr. Miller. My name is Ava now. Not Vicky.” He stalked toward the bed, his voice rigid. “Come home. Apologize to Lily, and I’ll get you the best doctors money can buy.” “No, thank you,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I have nothing to apologize for.” Without looking up again, I signed the last letter of my name on the donation forms. … After a long, tense silence, he let out a cold laugh. “Still playing the victim. Seven years, and you still have that same innocent act down.” “You’re sick? What is it? Why the surgery?” I managed a small, tired smile. “Late-stage glioblastoma. I don’t have much time left.” “Rather than rotting in the ground, I figured my organs could save a few lives.” Graham’s expression flickered for a moment, a brief flash of something unreadable before his cold mask snapped back into place. “Spare me the act. You think playing the pity card will make me go soft on you?” His eyes swept over the bare, cheap room, a sneer twisting his lips. “Looks like life on your own didn’t treat you so well. If you hadn’t done what you did, you wouldn’t have ended up like this.” I glanced down at my own skeletal hands, saying nothing. “Vicky…” he said suddenly, his voice laced with a strange, struggling note. “Are you really that sick?” I met his gaze, my own eyes chillingly calm. “What’s it to you, Mr. Miller?” “I’m your brother!” “My brother’s sister died seven years ago.” His face turned ashen with fury, his eyes locked on mine. “You hate me that much? Don’t you remember what happened back then? It was your own…” “Enough,” I cut him off. “You didn’t come here to dredge up the past, did you, Graham? Whatever you want, just say it.” He opened his mouth, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. “Let me guess,” I said slowly, the realization dawning with a cold, sickening clarity. “She needs a liver, doesn’t she?” Graham didn’t answer. But the way his gaze darted away told me everything I needed to know. I leaned back against the pillows, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. “So that’s it.” “After seven years, she finally remembers her big sister.” “You’re here to ask for my liver for her, aren’t you?” “Not ask,” he corrected, his voice hard. “It’s what you should do. You volunteered the first time, and now Lily needs it again. You’re still her sister. It’s your responsibility.” The sheer absurdity of it all washed over me. “Graham, when you threw me out of the house seven years ago, did you think of me as her sister then?” “You brought that on yourself!” he shot back, his voice rising. “If you hadn’t done all those vicious things, framing Lily, why would I have ever kicked you out? You’re still lying, still playing the innocent victim. Did you think hiding for seven years would make me forget what you did?” I closed my eyes, my heart a dead weight in my chest. He never once doubted. He never once believed it wasn't me. “Just go,” I whispered, exhausted. “I need to rest.” “Vicky!” He grabbed my shoulders, his grip like iron. “Listen to me! Lily needs your liver!” I opened my eyes and looked straight into his. “Then she’ll have to wait for a donor. My organs are already promised to strangers.” “You—” He was shaking with rage. “How can you be so heartless? Lily saved my life! Without her, the Miller family wouldn't exist today! And you… you’re just an ungrateful viper!” I said nothing, simply turning my head to look out the window. “I’m going to make this very clear, Vicky,” he said, releasing me. His voice dropped to an icy whisper. “If you don’t save Lily, I won’t let you die. Not peacefully.” “I’ll use every resource the Miller family has to keep you alive. I’ll make you live a life so miserable, you’ll beg for death.” His threats landed on me like stones in a dead sea. Not a single ripple. “Do whatever you want.” He gave me one last, hard look before turning and storming out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him. I lay alone in the hospital bed as silent tears finally traced paths down my temples. My mind drifted back fourteen years. I was thirteen, and Graham was twenty-one. Our parents had died together in a car crash, leaving behind a massive family fortune and a horde of greedy relatives circling like vultures. Back then, Graham was like a wolf protecting his cub. He shielded me from everything, shouldering the entire weight of the world on his own. At the funeral, a drunken uncle pointed a finger at me, slurring, “You little curse! If it wasn't for you, your parents would still be alive!” Graham laid him out with a single punch, leaving him bloody on the floor. “Anyone who touches a hair on my sister’s head,” he snarled, “will wish they were never born.” That night, he held me as I cried myself sick, whispering it over and over again. “It’s okay, Vicky. I’m here.” “I’ll always protect you, for the rest of my life.” And I believed him. I thought it would always be the two of us against the world. But when our half-sister, Lily, arrived, everything shattered. She was frail and sickly, so Graham gave her my room, the one with the best sunlight. She was a picky eater, so he took her out to fancy restaurants every night. She was afraid of sleeping alone, so he’d sit in her room until she drifted off. A month before my final exams, Lily was diagnosed with a rare liver disease. She was dying. Graham was frantic. He flew her to the best hospitals in the country, consulted with every top specialist. The doctors gave him two options: wait for a donor or find a living relative for a transplant. Waiting could take a year, maybe two. She didn’t have that long. For a living transplant, they needed a direct relative with a matching blood type. In the entire family, only I was a match. He came to talk to me while I was studying in my small, dim room. “Vicky,” he began, his voice softer than it had been in months. “You’ve heard about Lily, right?” I didn’t respond. “The doctors say your liver is the most compatible.” I turned a page in my textbook. “Vicky, she’s going to die,” his voice trembled. “Please. I’m begging you. Save her.” I finally looked up at him. “Graham, do you remember the last time I was sick?” He blinked, thrown. “I had a 104-degree fever. I was alone in my room for two days, and no one checked on me. Where were you? You were out shopping with Lily. Because she said she was feeling a little down.” He opened his mouth. “Vicky, I was wrong about that…” “And what about the time I was pushed down the stairs?” I cut him off. “I told you Lily did it. What did you say? You said I was clumsy and trying to blame her.” His face went pale. “Vicky…” “You want me to save her, Graham?” I stood up, facing him directly. “Fine.” “But after this, we’re even. I’m no longer a part of this family, and you are no longer my brother.” He flinched as if I’d struck him. “What are you saying?” “I’m saying I’ll donate part of my liver,” I said, my voice cold and steady. “But after it’s done, I’m leaving. And you will all act as if I’m dead.” He was silent for a long, heavy moment. Finally, he nodded. On the day of the surgery, as they wheeled me into the operating room, I saw him standing by the door. His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something. But in the end, he said nothing at all. The surgery was a success. Lily lived. I lost a third of my liver and never set foot in the Miller house again. That afternoon, Graham returned. This time, Lily was with him. After seven years, she had grown even more beautiful, her eyes still dark and luminous. Graham sat by my bed. “Vicky, Lily came to see you.” “Vicky,” Lily stepped forward, her eyes welling with tears. “I heard you were sick. I was so worried…” “Cut the act,” I snapped. “It’s just the three of us here. Who are you performing for?” Lily’s face went white, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “Why do you hate me so much, Vicky? What happened back then wasn’t my fault…” “Not your fault?” I scoffed. “Lily, you stole my login and posted those disgusting things about yourself in the class group chat. You cheated off my exam paper. You pushed me down the stairs. None of that was you?” “That’s enough!” Graham shot to his feet. “Vicky, it’s been seven years! Are you still telling those same lies?” “All the evidence pointed to you! When are you going to stop trying to frame Lily? You were jealous of her, jealous that she was better than you, so you made up all these stories to destroy her!” His words were like knives, each one twisting deeper into my heart. “Graham, are you so sure that I’m the one who’s lying?” “Aren’t you?” he retorted. “The teachers, the students… they all saw what you did back then. You were the one bullying her, you were the one consumed by jealousy!” I closed my eyes, too weary to fight anymore. It was useless. He would never believe me. “Vicky,” Lily moved closer, reaching for my hand. “I know you hate me. But when Graham told me you were sick, I was truly heartbroken… If you need money for treatment, I’ll give you all my savings…” I yanked my hand away. “Save your little theatrics, Lily!” I turned my gaze to Graham. “Alright, I know why you’re both here. But my answer is no. I’m not giving her my liver.” “I would rather give it to a complete stranger than save her a second time.” Graham’s face became a mask of cold fury. “Are you really that heartless, Vicky?” “Yes, I am,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “Seven years ago, I gave her a third of my liver. And what did I get in return? You threw me out on the street! Now you come back asking for more? On what grounds?” “You deserved it!” “Fine,” I nodded slowly. “Then if she doesn’t get a transplant now, I guess she deserves that, too.” “After all, you reap what you sow.” Graham trembled with rage. He lunged forward and grabbed the collar of my hospital gown. “Don’t push me, Vicky!” “Or what?” I stared right back at him, unafraid. “Are you going to hit me? Kill me? I’m already dying. Go ahead.” His hand was shaking. After a moment, he released me, taking a deep, ragged breath. “Vicky, I’m asking you one last time. Will you save Lily?” “No.” “Fine,” he sneered. “Then don’t blame me for what comes next.” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Do it. Just like we discussed.” A cold dread filled my stomach. “What are you doing?” “Nothing,” he said, pocketing his phone. “Since you’re so eager to donate your organs to strangers, I’ll just have to make sure those strangers never get them. I’m having the hospital cancel your donation request.” “And then,” he continued, his voice utterly devoid of emotion, “I’m going to use every resource the Miller family has to keep you alive. You’ll stay in this world, in agony, until you agree to save Lily.” My eyes widened in horror. “You’re insane!” “You drove me to this,” he said coldly. “You’re so selfish, Vicky. You’d rather let innocent people die than let go of your pathetic pride and resentment. You’re just as vicious as you were seven years ago.” With that, he took Lily by the arm and left. I lay in bed, my body shaking with helpless fury. That evening, a hospital administrator informed me that my organ donation surgery had been cancelled. “We received a report expressing concern over your mental state, suggesting you may not be fit to make this decision. We’ll need to conduct a new psychological evaluation, which could take at least a month.” The next morning, I was transferred. To the best private hospital in the state. My room was a VIP suite, and my new doctor was the nation’s leading neuro-oncologist. Graham stood in the middle of the opulent room, looking down at me. “You will cooperate with the treatment. After Lily’s surgery is done, you can live or die. I won’t care.” “Graham, this is kidnapping! It’s illegal!” “Call it whatever you want,” he shrugged, completely unconcerned. “I’m saving your life. Who’s going to argue with that?” “You’re a monster!” “You made me one.” He leaned over my bed, his face close to mine. “If you had just agreed, Vicky, none of this would have been necessary.” I stared into his eyes and saw nothing but a terrifying, obsessive madness. He would do exactly what he threatened. “Fine,” I closed my eyes, the fight draining out of me. “I’ll do it.” He froze. “What did you say?” “I said I’ll save her.” I opened my eyes, my gaze flat and empty as I looked at him. “But I have one condition.” “Name it.” “After the surgery, you leave me alone. You don’t interfere. You let me die how I choose.” He hesitated for a moment. “Fine. I agree.” The next day, they wheeled me into surgery. Graham stood by the door, his expression unreadable. “Vicky…” I didn’t look at him. I just closed my eyes. The surgery took four hours. It was a success. Another piece of my liver was placed inside Lily’s body. Afterward, I was moved to the ICU. Suddenly, a shrill alarm blared through the unit. “Patient is in cardiac arrest! Code Blue!” The heart monitor let out one long, continuous tone. My heart stopped. My soul felt light, drifting upward, out of my body. Through the glass wall of the ICU, I saw Graham. He was talking to a doctor, his face relaxed, relieved that Lily’s surgery had gone well. When a nurse rushed out to give him the news of my death, he just gave a short, dismissive “Okay,” his brow barely twitching. But just then, a commotion erupted down the hall. “Mr. Miller! Mr. Miller!” It was his assistant, breathless and frantic. “We found it! The truth about what happened seven years ago! All the evidence is right here!” The assistant held out a tablet. Graham took it, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief, and then to bone-white horror as he scrolled through the contents. “No… it can’t be…” His head snapped up, his eyes flying to my lifeless body in the ICU. They were bloodshot, filled with a storm of shock, regret, and utter despair. On the tablet screen, the evidence stabbed into him, piece by piece. A security video, grainy but clear, showed Lily sneaking my phone out of my bag. It showed her typing furiously, her lips curled into a triumphant smirk, before carefully placing the phone back exactly where she found it. Another video, from the day of the exam. It showed Lily leaning over to look at my paper while I was in the restroom, then later “accidentally” telling the teacher how I’d stayed up all night and miraculously guessed all the key topics. But the worst was the footage from the stairwell.
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