I made Keir Sterling angry. No matter how I tried to make it up to him, he wouldn't budge. Even when I told him I wasn't feeling well, he didn't panic the way he used to. I got off the Amtrak train and called him. "Keir, I’m in San Francisco for my heart appointment. Can you take me to the hospital?" Keir’s voice was sharp over the line. "Your heart was fixed years ago. Stop playing the victim, Leo. It’s pathetic." A dull ache throbbed in my chest. "It’s just a follow-up," I whispered. He let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Fine. Then stay there and wait." I sat obediently in a corner of the crowded station. I waited for a long time. I waited until my heartbeat slowed, fluttered, and finally stopped. Keir never showed up. 01 Before I closed my eyes, I didn't know I would die like this—so abruptly, in the waiting area of a noisy train station. I just felt very sleepy. I thought I’d just nap for a little while. Just a quick nap, and then I’d see Keir. I imagined him standing over me, sternly demanding why I couldn't stay home instead of coming to the city to cause trouble. I closed my eyes, rehearsing the excuses I’d use to beg him to take me to the clinic: Because Keir was always the one who took me to my appointments. Because the insurance info was on his phone. Because if the doctor asked about my childhood surgery, Keir was the only one who remembered the details. Yeah. Those were the reasons. It definitely wasn't because I missed him too much. But when I opened my eyes again, I saw my own body. It was still sitting in that corner of the crowded, grimy terminal. My head was tilted back against the wall, my eyelashes still, my body unmoving. I looked like I was just sleeping peacefully. My phone vibrated and slid from my lap, hitting the floor. I reached out to grab it without thinking, but my hand passed right through it. I stared at my translucent fingertips. The realization hit me with a slow, heavy thud. I was dead. Quietly, invisibly dead in a terminal full of strangers. I had died while waiting for Keir Sterling to come and "save" me. The screen lit up. A text from Keir from a minute ago. [Still waiting?] [That proves you weren't actually sick.] [Leo, you’re lying again.] I didn't lie, I said to the empty air. I really didn't feel well. I was born with a heart defect. I had the surgery when I was six, and everyone thought I was cured. But three months ago, the tightness returned. My lips would turn blue, and I couldn't catch my breath. Before "the incident," Keir would have been terrified. He would have dropped everything to get me to a specialist. But now, he didn't believe a word I said. He was convinced I was a manipulative liar who would do anything for attention. Ever since we were teenagers, Keir had acted more like a parent than a brother. He was serious, mature, and protective. He worried about every scratch, every draft. He controlled the layers of clothes I wore and the temperature of the AC in my room. If I coughed or even frowned, Keir was there. I was spoiled by that attention. I grew selfish. I used to cling to him and say, "I’m never getting married." I’d wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze hard. "And you’re not allowed to marry anyone either, Keir. You have to stay with me forever." Keir would just laugh and ruffle my hair. "Stop talking nonsense," he’d say, his voice not stern at all. And when I’d pouted, he’d add, "I’ll wait until you’re married first, okay? Will that make you happy?" I didn't answer. I’d just stare up at his face for a long time. Half of me wanted time to stop forever. The other half hoped for something to change. Something did change. Just not the way I wanted. I should have looked at him longer while I was alive, I thought, staring at my own corpse. Now, I would never see him again. People walked past me, but no one looked twice. Someone sleeping in a train station was the most normal thing in the world. Then, a pair of small hands picked up the phone from the floor. 02 It was the little girl who had been sitting next to me. While I was still alive, we had talked for a bit. We’d even traded nicknames. She called me the "Pretty Boy," and I called her "Sweet Pea." Sweet Pea looked at the glowing screen, trying to read the text. But she was only five; the words were just shapes to her. She frowned, looked at me for a long time, and then gently tucked the phone back into my hand. She didn't want to wake me. "Pretty Boy," she whispered. "You dropped your phone. Hold it tight." When I didn't answer, she skipped back to her mother’s arms. A few minutes later, the phone buzzed again. Another text from Keir: [I’m already at St. Mary’s.] [If you want to come, call an Uber yourself.] He had promised to pick me up. Why did he change his mind? Was he not feeling well? Worrying about him, my spirit was suddenly yanked away. In a blink, I was floating in the hallway of St. Mary’s Medical Center. The first person I saw was Keir. He was in a charcoal-grey bespoke suit, his back to me, talking on the phone. He looked as mature and handsome as ever. No amount of stress seemed to touch him. I drifted toward him, intending to play a ghostly prank, when I heard him speak. "The doctor is checking Caleb now. He should be fine. Don't worry, Mom." Caleb? Why was he here? A second later, the exam room door opened. Keir hung up and walked over. "How is he?" he asked the person walking out. "Keir, the doctor said it's nothing serious," Caleb said. He grabbed Keir’s arm, his brow furrowed in a practiced wince. "But I still feel really shaky. Can you stay with me?" Caleb was such an actor. He was definitely faking it. I felt a surge of ghostly annoyance. I tried to grab his neck, but my hands just passed right through his throat. I watched Keir give Caleb a small, rare smile. "Okay," he said softly. Keir was tall and imposing, with sharp features and a gaze that could be chillingly cold. When he wasn't speaking, he carried an air of effortless authority. But whenever he smiled at me, I thought he was the gentlest man on earth. But Keir hadn't smiled at me in a very long time. "However," Keir’s gentle expression faded slightly. "Leo should be arriving soon. I have to take him for his heart check-up." A flash of resentment crossed Caleb’s eyes, but he hid it instantly. He smiled and said, "Keir, you’re the best person I know. Leo isn't even your real brother, and he’s lied to you so many times. I can't believe you're still being this good to him." Memories of my "lies" must have hit Keir. His face darkened. "This is the last time," he said, his voice flat. "After today, if he comes looking for me with another one of his stunts, I won't see him." I hovered in that sterile, white hallway. The cold wind from an open window seemed to blow right through me. It was strange. How could my heart still hurt if I was dead? It really is the last time, I thought. Keir. I won't bother you ever again. Because I think I’m already gone. Caleb looked pleased with Keir’s answer. He started to pull him toward the exit. Before they reached the door, Keir’s phone rang. I drifted closer and heard the voice on the other end: "Mr. Sterling, do you have any news about Leo?" 03 "Leo Evans is no longer a member of this family." Keir recognized the caller and spoke with cold impatience. "I hope you’ll stop using him as an excuse to contact the Sterlings." The person on the phone was my biological mother. Maybe it was the cancer, or maybe it was the crushing weight of her own guilt, but her voice was a weak, trembling sob. "I was wrong, Keir. I never should have switched them at the hospital. But Leo is innocent. Can't you... treat him the way you used to?" It was a classic, trashy novel plot. I was the "fake heir" of the Sterling family. When I was born, I was diagnosed with a severe heart defect. My biological mother, terrified she couldn't afford to keep me alive, secretly swapped me with the Sterlings' healthy newborn. She didn't confess until recently, when her lung cancer became terminal. She had knelt at the gates of the Sterling estate, sobbing and banging her head on the pavement. "I was wrong! This is my karma! I’m dying! I’m giving Caleb back to you... just please, let me see Leo! He’s my real son!" When I finally met her, she wasn't loving. She told me, "The Sterlings fixed your heart. You got a good deal. You had twenty years of luxury. Now it’s Caleb’s turn." I wasn't even that sad. She was right, after all. The night Caleb moved in, he came to my room pretending to be the peacemaker. He said he’d beg our parents to let me stay. I was a fool. I blushed and told him, "I want to stay, too. But not as Keir’s brother." So I confessed to Keir. I told him I was relieved we weren't blood-related. I told him I’d known for a long time that what I felt for him wasn't just "family" love. I told him I wanted to be with him forever. I waited, my heart pounding, looking into his eyes. I only saw coldness and disgust. "Forever?" Keir had sneered. "You just want to stay in this house and keep the lifestyle you stole." He pulled out an audio recorder. It played a conversation I’d supposedly had with Caleb the day before. But the words were wrong. It sounded like my voice, but it was saying things I never said: I have a way to stay. If I get with Keir, they won't kick me out. I’ve been acting close to him for years just for this moment. The sound of an ambulance siren outside snapped me out of the memory. An ER doctor rushed past, bumping into Keir. "Sorry," the doctor panted. "We have a DOA coming in. Need to prep for a possible resuscitation." Keir nodded absently. He turned back to the phone. "So you’re saying I should just let him keep playing his little games? Let him use me?" He let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "I guess 'low-life' runs in the blood. Why else would he think of confessing to his own 'brother' to save his skin?" The background noise of the phone call grew louder. I heard a nurse in the background: "Bed 3, if you don't pay the deposit, we have to stop the meds..." Keir heard it. "Leo didn't come to see me because he’s sick. He’s here to beg for more money for you, isn't he?" Without waiting for an answer, Keir hung up. He immediately typed a message: [Leo, don't bother coming.] [I’m not giving you another cent.] I didn't come for money, I thought. I’m never taking your money again. I instinctively stepped back as Keir walked past me. Even though he couldn't see me, I felt the need to get away. He really, really hated me. "He’s not coming. Let’s go," Keir told Caleb. They walked out of the hospital. As they reached the car, an ambulance screeched to a halt at the ER entrance. A gurney covered in a white sheet was rushed inside. Keir caught a glimpse in the rearview mirror, then looked away, his jaw tight. The Rolls Royce began to roll toward the exit. Suddenly, the driver hit the brakes. The ER doctor from earlier was tapping on the back window. Keir rolled it down. "Is there a problem?" 04 "Excuse me, is this yours?" The doctor held out a cufflink. It was matte platinum wrapped around a finely cut black onyx. It was the birthday gift I’d given Keir last year. Keir recognized it instantly. He took it. "Yes. It is." "It must have snagged on me when we bumped into each other," the doctor said. "It fell right into my pocket." Keir gripped the cufflink in his palm and nodded thanks. The car drove off. Caleb started talking again, but Keir was silent. He didn't open his hand. I sat in the corner of the backseat, watching his profile. Was he remembering that birthday? The cufflink was a custom piece from a famous independent designer. It was outrageously expensive. I wanted to buy it with my own money, not the Sterlings' allowance. I had spent six months painting late into the night, selling my work piece by piece until I had enough. At midnight on his birthday, I’d snuck into his room. He was looking at spreadsheets, frowning, but he smiled the second he saw me. I stood in front of him and commanded, "Stay serious. No smiling." I told him to close his eyes. Keir obeyed, but his lips kept twitching upward. The room was so quiet I could hear my own heart. "Leo?" he’d whispered when I stayed quiet too long. I’d nervously pushed the velvet box into his hand. "You can open them now." He looked genuinely surprised. "Put it on for me," he’d smiled. As I reached for his sleeve, I realized my fingers were shaking. I shoved the box into his hand, muttered "Happy Birthday," and bolted out of the room. Back in my own bed, I replayed the scene over and over. A few minutes later, Keir knocked and walked in. He pulled me out from under the covers and laughed. "Why are you running?" I looked at him, wanting to say, You have no idea. Keir handed me a large gift box. Inside was a professional set of custom paints and an antique brush I’d wanted for years. The set alone cost more than the cufflinks. It was a San Francisco spring night. The scent of magnolia blossoms drifted through the open window. "Do you like it?" Keir asked, messing up my hair. He looked at me with such pure, raw affection. "I love it," I whispered. The Rolls Royce pulled into the Sterling estate. My mother met them at the door. "How is Caleb?" she asked. Keir said he was fine. Caleb did his routine. He hugged Mom and said he felt dizzy. Mom comforted him briefly and sent him to bed. But when Caleb was gone, her face remained pale. "Mom, are you okay?" Keir asked. Mom rubbed her chest, frowning. "Caleb is fine, but why do I feel so restless? So scared?" "Do you think something happened to Leo? The city is so cold this time of year, and his heart..." "Keir, go get him. Bring him home. Please." 05 Keir gave a dismissive smile. "What could happen to him?" "He’s always been dramatic. He fakes being sick just so we’ll all orbit around him. Besides, his heart was fixed years ago." Mom shook her head, her eyes full of worry. "You were there for the follow-ups, Keir. Didn't you listen to the doctors? A successful surgery in childhood doesn't mean a cure for life. Many of those kids need valve replacements as adults." Mom kept talking, oblivious to Keir’s expression suddenly freezing. "Leo was always so smart. When he was fine, he’d act out, make us laugh, make us think he was invincible. But when he was actually hurting... he’d get so quiet. So well-behaved." "Do you remember when he fainted at school? I rushed to the hospital and asked him why he went to class if he felt bad. Do you know what he told me?" Mom’s eyes filled with tears. "That boy said he knew his condition was serious. He knew he might die. He said that if it was going to happen, he wanted to be far away. He didn't want to die at home." "He said that way, we wouldn't have to be sad every time we walked into a room. We wouldn't have to be afraid of our own house." Mom choked on a sob. "Silly boy. He talked about himself like he was a stray dog nobody wanted!" I floated in the air, wanting to hug her. I wanted to wipe her tears. But I couldn't. I really did die far away from home. Just like a stray dog. I couldn't help but envy Caleb. He had such good parents. Such a good brother. Even the mother who stole me for him had tried to plan his future with her last breath. Keir remained silent for a long time, his jaw working. "He’s in the city," he said finally. "He probably came to ask for money." Mom looked shocked. "How? He didn't take any of his credit cards. He didn't take any of the luxury things we bought him. Why would he come back for money now?" Keir’s voice wavered. "His biological mother... her hospital bills. They were going to stop her meds." Mom sighed. "That’s because she was being transferred. We pre-paid a massive deposit at a specialized hospice for her, Keir. Out of respect for her raising Caleb." Keir’s face went ash-white. "Really?" "Yes! Now call him. Find out where he is. Tell him his Mom and Dad are waiting for him at home." Keir pulled out his phone. He finally dialed my number. I listened to the monotonous ringing and thought: No one is going to answer. But a second later, the call was picked up. 06 The background was full of noise, but no one spoke. "Leo!" Keir barked. "Why didn't you answer my texts?!" There was a soft gasp on the other end. Two seconds later, a tiny, childish voice spoke. "Are you the person the Pretty Boy is waiting for?" Keir froze. He softened his tone. "Who is this?" "I'm Sweet Pea!" Keir took a breath, trying to be patient. "Can you put the owner of the phone on the line, please?" "Um..." Sweet Pea sounded hesitant. She whispered into the phone, "But the Pretty Boy is sleeping. He looks really tired, so he’s been sleeping for a long time. My mommy says good girls don't wake people up." Keir’s lips twitched in a mix of frustration and relief. "Tell him when he wakes up to stay exactly where he is. I’m coming to get him." "Who are you?" Sweet Pea asked. "Are you the one he’s waiting for?" Keir said, "Yes." Sweet Pea sounded confused. "No. The Pretty Boy said he was waiting for his big brother. He said his brother is very gentle and kind. He said his brother is the best person in the whole world." She lowered her voice. "But you sound so mean..." Keir went dead silent. "I’m sorry," he whispered. He hung up. Mom looked at him reproachfully. "You let him wait so long he fell asleep?" Keir regained his stern composure. "I just wanted to teach him a lesson so he’d stop lying." Mom looked at him with deep concern. "Leo was always your favorite person in the world, Keir. Why are you being so hard on him? Just because he isn't your blood?" Keir didn't answer. He just shook his head. "You have a big heart, Keir. You don't let many things get to you," Mom said softly. "Only the people you care about can truly make you angry. But Leo is sensitive. Don't break his heart." Did he break my heart? I wondered. A little bit, maybe. When he accused me of faking it, of lying to get money... my heart had hurt with a sharp, physical intensity. Mom didn't know about my confession. She didn't know why Keir was so angry. How could it be because he cared? How could someone who cares be so cruel? I couldn't understand. Keir stepped out into the night. It had started to snow. Traffic was a nightmare. The Rolls Royce crawled through the slush. Keir rolled down the window twice to check the street, but he didn't tell the driver to hurry. As they neared the station, Keir sent another text. [Can you make it to the exit yourself?] He quickly followed it with: [Never mind. Stay in the waiting room. Don't move.] By the time the car parked, I still hadn't replied. Keir walked toward the terminal, his face set in a cold mask of irritation. "Leo, you’re really pushing it now," he muttered to himself. "Wait until I see you—" He stopped dead. I looked where he was looking. He was looking at me. 07 The terminal was still packed. Travelers were rushing everywhere with their suitcases. Keir was tall and striking, a beacon of wealth in the middle of the grime. There was snow on his shoulders. He was staring at me. I was exactly as I had been. Leaning against the wall, eyes closed. The quietest person in the room. Keir suddenly didn't seem to be in a rush anymore. His steps were slow, silent. He didn't want to wake me. He stopped in front of me and looked at me for a long time. Then, he reached out and tapped my forehead. "Leo. You’ve made your point. Stop pretending." When I didn't move, Keir let out a frustrated huff. He did what he used to do when I was being stubborn—he pinched my cheek. "If you don't get up right now, I’m leaving. Don't cry to me about it later." He gave my shoulder a firm nudge. My body lost its balance. I slumped forward, soft and heavy, right into Keir’s arms. "Leo!" He caught me, his patience at an end. "Wake up! Stop playing around!" Then, he felt it. The weight. The temperature. Keir finally looked at my face. His fingertips began to shake as he touched my purple-tinged lips. He grabbed my hand. My fingernails were blue. "Leo?" He said my name again, but the anger was gone. Sweet Pea hopped off her chair. "Is the Pretty Boy okay? Is he just being lazy?" Keir scooped me up in a bridal carry and sprinted for the exit. "He’s sick!" he barked at no one in particular. The heater in the Rolls Royce was blasting, but my body remained cold. Keir couldn't warm me up. He called the hospital, telling them he had a patient in a deep coma with severe cyanosis. He told them to have a team ready at the door. The driver was flying. Keir kept telling him to go faster. He looked at my face, and his own breathing grew ragged, uneven. The car swerved through the storm, making my body toss. Keir held me tighter. "It’s okay," he whispered over and over. "Don't be afraid. We’re almost there." My cold forehead was pressed against his neck. I couldn't feel his warmth. It’s no use, Keir, I thought. There’s no hope left. I looked out the window. The snow was hitting the glass in clumps, shattering. I remembered seeing that same image once through a plane window. Keir had been on a business trip over New Year’s. I’d lied to my professors, taken a red-eye flight, and flown through a blizzard to surprise him. The plane had circled for an hour, briefly losing contact with the tower. When I landed, Keir was waiting at the gate. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot with fury. "Leo Sterling, who gave you permission to do this?!" He’d grabbed my wrists, his voice shaking with a rage I’d never seen. "Why couldn't you just stay home?! What if the plane crashed?! What if you died?!" I’d looked up at him, the snowflakes on my lashes melting into my eyes. "Because I didn't want you to be alone on New Year's Eve." "I'm sorry," I’d whispered. Keir had stared at me for a few seconds, then the anger vanished. Like every other person in the arrivals hall, he’d pulled me into a crushing embrace. He held me so tight I couldn't tell if I was forgiven. But I loved it. I wanted him to hold me forever. I realize now that Keir really did give me hope back then. That was why I was foolish enough to confess. I overplayed my hand.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "416990", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel