They Left Me To Die For Thirty Million

In my last life, I won thirty million dollars in the lottery. I told my parents, bought them a house, a new car. I made them promise to keep it a secret from everyone. They promised. And then they turned around and told my cousin, Jessica. The next day, Jessica showed up with a DNA test, claiming she was my biological sister. My parents, overjoyed, welcomed her with open arms. Then they demanded I give half of my winnings to her. I refused. We fought. In the chaos, Jessica shoved me down the stairs. I spent the rest of my life as a vegetable. My parents forgave her. They let her be the daughter they’d always wanted. While they lived it up on my thirty million dollars, my lungs filled with fluid. I died of a hospital-acquired infection, alone. Then I opened my eyes. It was the day I won the lottery. And this time, I would not make the same mistakes. 1 The string of zeros in my bank account balance wasn’t a dream. It was real. I was back. And I was going to use this second chance. My phone buzzed, shaking me from my thoughts. “Annie, honey, is it true?” It was my mom, her voice practically vibrating with excitement. “What you texted? Did you really win something?” I leaned back, dangling the new debit card between my fingers. “Yeah, I did. I won 30.” “Thirty… thousand?” she asked, her breath catching. “Thirty dollars, Mom,” I said, a smile on my face that she couldn’t see, and wouldn’t have understood. “You thinking of something else?” “Well, what’s all the fuss in the group chat then? Jessica was just saying someone in our city won the big one. Thirty million dollars.” Ah, yes. I’d forgotten. In my last life, my parents had added Jessica to the family group chat. “Wow,” I said, pulling up a financial planning app on my phone. “Good for them. That’s some serious luck.” “Yeah, well. Just… come home soon, okay?” Mom said, the disappointment thick in her voice before she hung up. The moment the call ended, I requested the rest of the day off from work. I spent the afternoon driving all over town, opening multiple accounts at different banks and splitting the money between them. Call me paranoid. I’d earned it. If my parents wanted Jessica to be part of the family so badly, who was I to stand in their way? In fact, I was going to help them. I remembered that DNA test from my last life, and an idea began to form. I called an Uber and headed for Jessica’s apartment. “Jessica,” I said, standing in her doorway, doing my best to look overwhelmed and a little lost. I let my eyes drift around her cramped, stuffy rental. “What is it?” she asked, pointedly fiddling with a gaudy gold bracelet on her wrist, making sure I saw it. This time, I pretended I didn’t. “I think… I think our neighborhood is getting bought out.” Jessica’s eyes darted around, then she grabbed my arm and yanked me inside. “What are you talking about?” she hissed as soon as the door was shut. “I saw a zoning proposal,” I said, pulling up a screenshot someone had posted in the neighborhood Facebook group. “The city wants to build a new transit hub.” “And the payout? What’s the payout?” she asked, her eyes glued to the map on my phone. “It’s based on occupancy. Something like sixty thousand per legal resident.” I kept my voice vague, uncertain. I saw the light flare in her eyes. I knew, right then, that the hook was set. “What did your mom and dad say?” she pressed. “They said they’d take their hundred and twenty thousand, and I could use my sixty, plus a little extra I’ve saved, to make a down payment on a small condo for myself.” I was spinning the story out of thin air, but it sounded plausible enough. “You have money for a down payment?” Jessica asked, her voice laced with disbelief. I just grinned like an idiot. “Yeah, I’ve managed to save up about eight or nine thousand over the last few years. I was actually hoping I could borrow a little from you to round it out.” She stared at me, sizing me up. “I thought you only made, what, four thousand a month?” “I live at home, you know? Don’t have that many expenses.” I smiled and showed her the balance in my checking account on my banking app. The fish was on the line. The very next day, just like before, Jessica showed up at our house with a DNA test in her hand. Showtime. I stared at the report she’d slapped down on the kitchen table, feigning shock. “Mom? Dad? What… what is this?” “Annie, honey, let me explain,” Jessica started, her voice syrupy sweet. I just looked at her, waiting. I wanted to see how she’d play it this time. “When Mom and Dad were just kids, they had me,” she began, pulling an official-looking document from her purse. “They weren’t married, and their families would have disowned them. So, to avoid the scandal, they asked Aunt Carol—who couldn’t have kids of her own—to adopt me and raise me.” She was already calling my mother’s sister “Aunt Carol.” The nerve. I picked up the adoption certificate. The raised seal looked real. I felt a sudden, cold stillness in the room. “We thought you were going to be a boy,” Mom added, her voice trembling as she reached for Jessica’s hand. “So we let your sister go.” “All these years, you’ve suffered so much,” Dad said, his eyes filled with a pained, manufactured sympathy. “Dad, Mom, it’s my fault. I’m the one who failed you, not being there to take care of you,” Jessica sobbed, sinking to her knees in a display of pure theater. So I was the only one who had been kept in the dark. A flood of memories from my past life rushed back. The way my parents always paid Jessica’s rent. The way they made me bring her home-cooked meals every night after work. The way they had so easily forgiven her for putting me in a coma. “Oh, Jessica,” I cried, wrapping my arms around her in a hug. “You poor thing. You’ve been through so much.” If you want this daughter back so badly, I thought, then by all means. Have her. My parents explained everything—the shame of a teen pregnancy in their small town, the secret they’d carried for decades. They even told me a psychic once said I’d bring great fortune to the family. He was right, I guess, but I think he was probably just trying to save my life. “Mom, Dad,” Jessica said, wiping her tears away. “Annie mentioned something about the neighborhood buyout.” Here we go. I lowered my head to hide my smile. “Annie told you?” Dad asked, shooting me a disapproving look. “Dad, I didn’t think it was a secret. She’s not a stranger,” I said, my voice dripping with innocence. “Exactly,” Mom chimed in. “Annie said the payout is per person,” Jessica continued, her voice steady now. “I was thinking… I should have my residency officially transferred back here. That way, we can get a bigger share.” “But the buyout isn’t a sure thing yet, honey,” Dad said, hesitating. “But I’ll have to transfer it back home eventually anyway,” Jessica said, squeezing out a few more tears. “Mom, Dad, I just want to be here to take care of you.” “She really does, Mom, Dad,” I added, playing my part. “She just wants to be part of the family.” “What about your Aunt Carol?” Dad asked. “I’ve already talked to her. I’ll send her three hundred dollars a month for support. Of course,” she said, her eyes shifting to me, “I’ll need some help with that.” She was cornering me. “Of course, Jessica,” I said, my voice full of warmth. “It’s the least I can do. I mean, I’m the one who got to grow up here with them.” “Please, Dad? Just do this for her,” I begged. It was the second step of the plan, and it was falling perfectly into place. A few days later, my dad took care of the residency paperwork. In that same window of time, while he had the necessary documents out, I made copies and finalized the purchase of my condo and a new car. So my parents wouldn’t get suspicious, I moved my things out little by little, while Mom was busy making up for lost time with Jessica, taking her on shopping sprees for new clothes and jewelry. That night, as we lay in our beds in the room we now shared, I decided it was time. “Jessica,” I said into the darkness. “There’s something I need to tell you.” “What is it?” she said, her voice muffled, the glow of her brand-new iPhone illuminating her face. “The real reason Dad is so stressed about the buyout… The family’s in debt. Over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. If the buyout goes through, we’ll get around two hundred and forty thousand total. We can use that to pay it all off, and maybe have enough left for a small place…” I kept talking, pretending not to notice the way she’d frozen. “When did this happen?” she cut me off, her voice sharp. “A few years ago. Dad’s business failed. We’re paying thousands in interest every year.” I was feeding her the truth, but a truth from my last life. A truth I only discovered after I’d won the lottery and offered to pay off their debts, right before she sent me into a coma. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” she demanded, sitting bolt upright. “I thought Mom would have told you by now,” I said, my voice laced with fake surprise. “Whatever. We’ll just sell the house after the buyout and pay it off,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. Oh, my dear cousin. You weren’t listening. I said the city wants to buy us out. I never said it was a done deal. A week later, the news broke in the neighborhood Facebook group. “The project’s been canceled,” Dad announced at dinner, looking at the notification on his phone. “What?” Jessica shot to her feet. “What do you mean, canceled?” Mom asked. “An environmental impact study found an endangered turtle species in the marshland behind our neighborhood. The whole transit hub is on hold indefinitely.” “It’s okay,” I said, trying to comfort them. “At least the four of us are together. That’s what matters, right?” “What’s good about this?” Jessica snapped, before storming out of the house. “Mom, what’s wrong with her?” I asked, playing the innocent, confused sister. “It’s… it’s nothing.” The way Mom’s eyes darted away told me there was more to the story. Jessica didn’t come home that night. Aunt Carol called to say she was staying with her. My dear cousin, I thought. You couldn’t even last a week? The fun is just getting started. I pretended to be heartbroken and went to my room. My parents even came to console me. They had no idea that under the covers, I was smiling so hard my face ached. The next morning, Jessica returned and started packing her things. “Honey, what are you doing?” Mom asked, watching her shove clothes into a suitcase. Jessica just shot me a venomous look and kept packing. “Annie, I need you to run to the store. We’re out of olive oil,” Mom said, waving me away. They were trying to get rid of me. I nodded, but as I walked out, I discreetly turned on the voice recorder on my phone and left it on the hall table. When I got back, Mom and Jessica were sitting on the sofa, looking for all the world like a happy mother-daughter pair. “Annie,” Mom said as I walked in. “Your sister and I have been talking.” She took a deep breath. “This house is only seven hundred and fifty square feet. It’s not big enough for four adults. We think it’s best if you move out.” I froze. “What? Why?” “Don’t be upset, Annie,” Jessica said, jumping up to put a comforting arm around me. “I was just thinking, you need your own space. Your own privacy. So I suggested this to Mom.” There it was. I glanced at the date on my watch. It was a Saturday. Most of our neighbors would be home. If you’re going to be cruel, then don’t blame me for being ruthless. I backed out of the apartment and into the hallway. “It’s okay, Mom. I don’t need my own space,” I said, my voice just loud enough to carry. I wanted to move out, but not like this. Not by being kicked out. “Every young woman needs her privacy,” Mom insisted from the doorway. Just then, the bottle of olive oil I was holding “slipped” from my grasp. It shattered on the tiled floor with a loud crack. Instantly, doors up and down the hall creaked open. “I can sleep on the couch, Mom! If Jessica needs the space, I can sleep on the couch!” I pitched my voice higher, letting it crack with emotion. Our neighbors, I knew, loved two things: drama and judging other people’s parenting. “Annie, what are you talking about?” Jessica said, rushing forward to pull me back inside. “Are you kicking me out too, Jessica? This is my home! I’ve lived here for twenty-six years!” I dug my nails into my palm, hard, until my eyes filled with real tears. “Honey, what’s going on?” Jessica shot Mom a panicked look. They both reached for me. As their hands touched my arms, I let my knees buckle and crumpled to the floor, staring up at them with wide, wounded eyes. “Mom?” I whispered, letting a single tear trace a path down my cheek. “Jessica… you too?” It hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt. A useful hurt. “I get it,” I said, slowly pushing myself to my feet and brushing the dust from my legs. “You fell on your own, Annie! Don’t you dare try to blame us!” Mom snapped, her voice shrill. “You’re right,” I said, backing away towards the stairs, my hand gripping the railing. “I fell all by myself. I almost fell right down the stairs.” “You…” Mom started, but I cut her off. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll leave.” I walked back into my room, grabbed my phone—the one that was still recording—and walked out. “The nerve of some people,” Mrs. Gable from 3B muttered, rushing over to me. “It’s okay, Mrs. Gable. It’s fine,” I sobbed, letting the tears flow freely. “What kind of parents do they think they are?” The whispers started, a chorus of disapproval up and down the hall. Did you really think they’d side with you, Jessica? The newcomer? These people watched me grow up. As I listened to the rising tide of gossip, I smiled through my tears, called an Uber, and walked away without looking back. I was finally out. It was sooner than I’d planned, but not before I’d made them miserable. Lying in my own condo, a cool sheet mask on my face, I waited for my takeout to arrive. I was finally free. The sharp ring of my phone cut through the silence. I picked it up. “Hello?” I said, expecting the delivery driver. “Hello there… little sister.” The voice was unmistakable. I ripped the mask from my face and sat up straight. This was a high-end condo building. No one got past the front desk without resident approval. They couldn’t know where I was. So what was the point of this call? Before I could figure it out, Jessica spoke again. “You won the thirty million, didn’t you?” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. “Jessica, what are you talking about?” I played dumb. So far, no one knew. After my last life, I didn’t trust a single soul. “Check the picture I just texted you.” I could hear the smugness in her voice. I forced myself to keep my own voice even. “A picture? What picture?” I opened my messages. It was a photo from the lottery commission’s press release. I’d forgotten. They’d snapped a bunch of photos after I claimed the prize. But I’d worn a mask, a baseball cap, and a baggy men’s jacket. Even someone who knew me well would have a hard time recognizing me. “Is there a problem with this photo, Jessica?” I asked. “That person is you,” she said, her voice triumphant. “Jessica, if that was me, would I have let you and Mom kick me out of the house?” I said, my voice cracking with manufactured hurt. “So, what, you’re just going to deny it?” If I admit it, you’ll become a leech I can never get rid of. I’m not that stupid. “Jessica, I…” I trailed off, then hung up the phone. I’d known this day would come, but it was happening too fast. My phone rang again. I flinched and threw it across the room. The helplessness I’d felt in my last life, trapped in my own body, came rushing back. No. I will not go back there. Calm down. Think. I picked up the phone, the screen now a spiderweb of cracks. First things first. I needed to move the money again, make it untouchable. I went to a different carrier, bought a new phone, got a new number. That would buy me some time. Then, I contacted a high-end real estate broker and bought several small properties in different cities across the country. A rabbit needs more than one hole. By the time I was done, a good chunk of the money was tied up. I kept two hundred thousand in a liquid account for emergencies and put the rest into a series of trusts managed by a wealth advisor. The terms were simple: no one, not even me, could touch the principal without my physical signature, verified in person. Finally, just in case, I had a lawyer draw up a will. With all that handled, I took three days off, holed up in my condo, and went over everything, trying to find any loose ends. That’s when I remembered the recording. There had to be something on that recording that I’d missed. I found the file and pressed play. The familiar voices filled my silent apartment. “Honey, what are you doing?” “I can’t take it anymore, Mom! Four people in a seven-hundred-square-foot apartment? I’d rather be back in my own place!” The sound of clothes being thrown into a suitcase. “Calm down, honey.” “How can I calm down? She’s just some kid you picked up off the street. What right does she have to live here with me?” Some kid you picked up off the street. The world seemed to stop.

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