There was a whiteboard in our house. Written on it was my countdown. "Days until Lily's estimated heart failure: 47." Every morning, my mother would carefully erase yesterday's number and write a new one. Like a grocery store counting down to a clearance sale. Precise, cold, and full of anticipation. My name is Lily Brooks. I am twelve years old. I have congenital heart disease. The doctors said without surgery, I wouldn't live past six months. The surgery costs three million dollars. My father, Edward Brooks, is a real estate tycoon worth two billion dollars. But he said, "Three million. It's not worth it." Because there was another, perfectly healthy child in the house. My little brother, Noah. Eight years old, smart, beautiful, plays the piano, and knows exactly how to charm adults. He was the only one in this family considered "worth it." ... The first time I heard them discussing my death was on a Wednesday night. The study door wasn't closed all the way. I was walking by, clutching my pill bottle, when I heard the conversation inside. My mother Victoria's voice was calm, like she was discussing a stock investment. "The insurance company confirmed it. Lily's policy is worth five million. In the event of her death, we are the sole beneficiaries." Edward flipped through some documents. "Five million? The premium we paid back then was only eighty thousand. That's a solid return on investment." Victoria nodded. "And since it would be death by natural illness, there's no waiting period for the investigation. They pay out directly. I've already had the lawyers confirm it." "Then skip the surgery." Edward put his pen down. "Three million for a surgery with only a sixty percent success rate. We might as well save the cash, wait for the insurance payout, and net five million." "That five million will perfectly cover Noah's European summer camp and that new penthouse in Manhattan." Victoria hesitated for a moment. "But people will gossip." "Saying what?" Edward sneered. "She has a congenital heart defect. The doctors already said it's a difficult case. We are simply respecting medical reality." "When the time comes, we tell the public we tried everything, but it was God's will." "We'll throw a beautiful, high-profile funeral, invite the press. It'll be great PR for the company." The pill bottle slipped from my hand. It hit the floor with a loud clatter. The study instantly fell dead silent. I picked up the bottle and turned to walk away. Victoria's voice called out from behind me: "Lily? Why are you out in the hall?" I didn't turn around. "I was just getting my medication." "Take your pills and go to bed early. We have your hospital checkup tomorrow." "Okay." I went back to my room and closed the door. I looked at the whiteboard on my nightstand. 47 days. It turned out this wasn't my countdown. It was their "payout date." That night, I made a decision. Since they were waiting for me to die. I would give them the show of a lifetime. But not the kind of death they were hoping for. Chapter 2 The next day, I didn't go to the hospital for my checkup. I went to the insurance company. The receptionist was taken aback when she saw a twelve-year-old girl walk in alone. "Sweetie, who are you looking for?" "Miss, I want to check on my insurance policy. My name is Lily Brooks. The policyholder is Victoria Brooks." The receptionist hesitated but looked it up for me anyway. "Your policy... the death benefit is five million dollars. The beneficiaries are your parents, Edward and Victoria Brooks." "Miss, can the beneficiaries be changed?" "Yes, but it requires the policyholder's consent. That would be your mother." I nodded. "And if the policyholder doesn't agree?" "Then it can't be changed." I thought for a moment. "What if I buy my own insurance policy? Can I name someone else as the beneficiary?" The receptionist looked stunned. "Sweetie... you're only twelve. You can't buy life insurance yourself. And... why are you asking these things?" I offered a small smile. "Nothing. I just wanted to know if, when I die, the money could go to someone other than my parents." The receptionist's face fell. She knelt down, looking me in the eye. "Sweetie, is something going on at home?" "No. Thank you, miss." I turned and walked out of the insurance company. Standing on the street, the sun felt wonderful. But I knew I probably wouldn't see many more sunny days like this. Not because of my heart. But because I had decided that before they could touch that five million, I was going to make sure they got nothing. I would make sure they didn't see a single dime. When I got home, my brother Noah was in the living room practicing the piano. Seeing me walk in, he didn't even look up. "Lily, Mom said you skipped your checkup. She's really mad." "Oh." "She said if you don't behave, she's going to cut your medication." I stopped in my tracks. "What does that mean?" Noah played a chord, speaking casually: "Exactly what it sounds like. Your pills are really expensive, right? Like twenty thousand a month. Mom said if you don't cooperate, she'll just stop buying them. Anyway—" He paused, seemingly realizing his next words were a bit harsh. "Anyway what?" I asked. "Anyway, you can't be cured." When my eight-year-old brother said those words, his tone was exactly like our father's. Light, dismissive, treating it as a matter of fact. I looked at him. This boy who had been pampered since the day he was born. He wasn't inherently evil. He just genuinely believed my life had no value. Because from the moment he entered this world, everyone in this house had taught him one thing: His sister was a burden, a financial drain, a defective product that could break down at any moment. "Noah." "Yeah?" "You play beautifully." Noah finally looked up, glancing at me in surprise. "...Thanks." I went upstairs to my room. I opened the old iPad my dad had given me—the only electronic device in the house that belonged to me, and only because it was an outdated model Noah didn't want anymore. Chapter 3 I started searching: "Can a minor write a will?" "How to stop parents from collecting a life insurance payout?" "Slayer rule in life insurance." The search results gave me one crucial piece of information: If a beneficiary intentionally causes the death of the insured, the insurance company will deny the claim. I stared at that sentence for a long time. Then, I started keeping a diary. But not an ordinary diary. It was an evidence log. Using that old iPad, I began recording audio and video. Every time they discussed my insurance. Every time they reduced my medication. Every time they updated the countdown on the whiteboard. I recorded it all. Three days later. The number on the whiteboard changed to 44. And just as promised, Victoria cut my medication. I used to take three pills a day. Now, she only gave me two. "Mom, I'm missing a pill." Victoria was peeling an apple for Noah, not bothering to look up. "The doctor said you can reduce your dosage at this stage." "The doctor never said that." Victoria's knife paused. "I am your mother. If I say we reduce it, we reduce it." I didn't say anything else. I went back to my room and turned on my voice recorder. I saved the conversation I had just captured. File name: "Evidence_004_Med_Reduction". That evening, Edward came home. He brought a stranger with him. A man in a sharp suit, carrying a briefcase, wearing a professional smile. "Lily, this is Mr. Sterling. He's a claims advisor for the insurance company." Edward's tone was exceptionally gentle. Whenever he was gentle with me, it meant he needed my cooperation. "Mr. Sterling needs to do a quick health assessment for you. Be a good girl and cooperate, okay?" Mr. Sterling knelt down and smiled. "Hey there. I'm just going to ask you a few quick questions, alright?" "How are you feeling these days? Any discomfort?" I glanced at Edward. His eyes carried a distinct warning. I smiled back at the advisor. "I feel pretty good. Just a little chest tightness sometimes." "Are you taking your medication? Right on schedule?" "Yes, on schedule. Three pills every day. I haven't missed a single one." The corners of Edward's mouth twitched upward. Victoria visibly exhaled a sigh of relief. Mr. Sterling finished his notes and shook Edward's hand. "Don't worry, Mr. Brooks. I'll have the paperwork sorted immediately. If... God forbid... something unfortunate were to happen, I'll make sure the payout is expedited." "Thank you, Mr. Sterling." After seeing the advisor out, Edward patted me on the head. "You did great today. As a reward, you can watch an extra thirty minutes of TV tonight." Thirty extra minutes of TV. That was my compensation for cooperating in the "rehearsal of my death." Chapter 4 I went back to my room and exported the files from my recorder. File name: "Evidence_007_Insurance_Pre_Claim". I backed up all the files in three places. One copy on the iPad. One copy on a USB flash drive hidden under my mattress. The third copy... I needed to give to someone I could trust. But I didn't have anyone I could trust. Classmates? They only knew me as the rich, sick girl. None of them were close friends. Teachers? Once, a teacher asked about a bruise on my arm. Victoria made one phone call, and the teacher never brought it up again. Relatives? They all worked for Edward's company. No one dared to cross him. I thought about it all night. The next morning, I saw a man by the gates of our gated community. A homeless man. He sat on the bench across the street every day, holding a dirty, scruffy cat. Security chased him away constantly, but he always came back. I walked over to him. "Sir, what's your name?" He looked up, his cloudy eyes focusing on me. "...Henry." "Henry, do you have a phone?" "No." "Do you know how to read?" "...I used to be a teacher." I was stunned. A homeless man who used to be a teacher? "Henry, can I come talk to you every day?" He didn't speak, just gave a slow, gentle nod. From that day on, I visited Henry after school every day. I brought him a bottle of water and a sandwich. Food I had secretly saved from my own meals. Henry used to be a high school English teacher. After his wife died of cancer, medical debt bankrupted him, and he ended up on the streets. We gradually became friends. One day, I pulled the USB drive from my backpack. "Henry, if I die one day, can you take this to the police for me?" Henry's hands began to shake. "What... what are you talking about?" "My parents bought a five-million-dollar life insurance policy on me. If I die, they get the money. So they aren't treating my illness, and they are lowering my medication." "This flash drive has all the evidence. As long as the police prove they intentionally denied me care, the insurance company won't pay out." "They're waiting for me to die. But instead of five million dollars, they're going to get a prison cell." Tears streamed down Henry's dirty, weathered face. "I can't let you die. You're only twelve years old!" I crouched beside him, gently patting his back. I was the one who was dying. Yet here I was, comforting a stranger who was crying for me. Chapter 5 The number on the whiteboard changed to 31. My body was failing faster now. Before, it was just occasional chest tightness. Now, I was gasping for air after walking just a few steps. Victoria looked at my pale face, but there was no heartbreak in her eyes. Only calculation. "One month left," she whispered to Edward in the kitchen. "The insurance company is prepped. When the time comes, we just say her condition rapidly deteriorated and she passed naturally." "What about the pills?" Edward asked. "I've cut it down to one a day. In a few days, I'll stop them completely." "Good. Make sure nobody outside the house notices." I stood outside the kitchen door, the voice recorder silently spinning in my pocket. File name: "Evidence_015_Stopping_Meds". That afternoon, I collapsed at school. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. My attending physician was Dr. Emily Carter, a woman in her forties. She looked at my chart, her face grim. "Your medication levels are entirely wrong. Based on your condition, you should be taking Amiodarone three times a day. Why are you only taking one?" I didn't say anything. Dr. Carter stayed silent for a moment, then sat on the edge of my bed. "Lily, tell me the truth. Is something going on at home?" I looked at her. Her gaze was earnest, not just going through the motions. "Dr. Carter, if I tell you something, can you keep it a secret?" "What is it?" "My parents want me to die." Dr. Carter's pupils dilated in shock. "They bought a five-million-dollar life insurance policy on me. They are the beneficiaries. They're cutting my meds, waiting for my heart to fail so I die naturally, and then they'll collect the money." "I have proof. Audio recordings, videos, diaries. I have everything." Dr. Carter's hands began to tremble. She had practiced medicine for twenty years. She had seen countless life and death scenarios. But she had never seen a twelve-year-old child describe her own parents plotting her murder with such chilling calmness. "Why... why haven't you called the police?" "My dad is Edward Brooks." Dr. Carter froze. Edward Brooks. The biggest real estate developer in the city. The brand-new inpatient tower we were currently in was funded by his donations. His name was literally on the building—The Brooks Pavilion. "Lily, I'm going to keep you admitted for a few days. I'll use observation as the medical justification." "In these few days, I'm going to contact someone for you." "Who?" I asked. "A friend from college. He's a District Attorney at the state level. Your father's hands are long, but they can't reach the state." Chapter 6 I looked at Dr. Carter. This was the second person willing to help me. The first was Henry, the homeless man. The second was this doctor. Both were complete strangers with no blood relation to me. "Dr. Carter." "Yes?" "Thank you. But... if my dad finds out, will he do something to you?" Dr. Carter offered a small, fierce smile. "On my first day as a doctor, I took an oath to save lives and do no harm." "Your father donated a building. That's very impressive. But a building can't buy my conscience." Victoria came to the hospital to pick me up. She wore her picture-perfect "doting mother" expression. "Lily, Mommy's here to take you home." Dr. Carter blocked her path. "Mrs. Brooks, the child's condition is highly unstable. I strongly recommend keeping her for further observation." Victoria's smile stiffened for a fraction of a second. "Dr. Carter, we can take perfectly good care of her at home." "Then why are the child's medication levels incorrect?" Dr. Carter stared directly into her eyes. "Given her condition, she should be taking three doses a day. But the drug concentration in her blood is only one-third of the normal level. Unless, of course, someone deliberately reduced her medication." Victoria's face drained of color. "What... what are you implying?" "I'm not implying anything. I am stating medical facts." Dr. Carter closed the chart. "The child cannot be discharged right now. If you insist on taking her, you must sign an 'Against Medical Advice Discharge Declaration.' This document will be kept on record. If anything happens to this child, the hospital will submit it directly to the authorities." Victoria stood there, her lips trembling. She knew that signing that declaration would leave a massive paper trail. "...Then she can stay for now." She turned to leave. As she passed my bed, she leaned in and whispered: "Lily, don't think for a second you can pull a fast one on us." I didn't look up. But beneath the blankets, I pressed the save button on my voice recorder. File name: "Evidence_019_Hospital_Confrontation". It was enough. Without any hesitation, I zipped all the evidence files and hit send. I watched the progress bar complete. Mom, Dad, this is my final gift to you. I hope you're ready to catch it.
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