The Sister He Destroyed

Following the bankruptcy of the James Corporation, my brother was diagnosed with ALS.

I dropped out of university, shouldering astronomical debt and the crushing weight of my brother's survival.

For five years, debt collectors beat me until I coughed up blood, yet I couldn't justify the cost of painkillers. I worked five shifts a day, collapsing from exhaustion, yet I refused to take a single day off.

Every cent I earned went to keeping Jonathan alive.

That changed the night I delivered wine to the Starlight Club.

The door to the VIP room stood ajar. Inside, I saw Jonathan Jamesthe man who should have been wheelchair-bound, waiting for me at homelounging in a bespoke suit. Legs crossed, swirling amber liquid, laughing with his friends.

"Jonathan, you've kept this charade up for five years," someone said. "Hazel is bleeding herself dry to pay for your 'treatment.' Isn't this punishment enough?"

Jonathan scoffed.

"Almost. If she hadn't been so selfishif she hadn't scolded Valerie and upset herI wouldn't have needed to stage this bankruptcy and illness to teach her a lesson."

He sipped his drink, expression casual. "Valerie has spent the last five years traveling abroad. Her mood has finally stabilized, and she's agreed to forgive Hazel. Once the timing is right, I'll have the doctor fake a 'miraculous recovery.' Hazel can resume her life as the James heiress. Consider it atonement for her willfulness."

One friend hesitated. "ALS is terminal. Will she actually believe a recovery is possible?"

A smirk played on Jonathan's lips.

"That idiot girl? She believes every word I say."

He set his glass down. "She needed to learn her place. Valerie is adopted and lacks security; as the older sister, Hazel should have yielded. I'm doing this for her own good. I'll compensate her properly later."

I stood in the hallway, head bowed, tears sliding silently down my cheeks.

But Jonathan, there is no later.

Your terminal illness is a lie.

Mine is real.

The corridor's draft cut through my uniform, chilling the sweat on my skin. I stood frozen, a puppet with severed strings. The revelation didn't hit all at onceit felt like a serrated blade slowly slicing through five years of faith.

Every cut drew blood.

Inside the room, Vincent Hughes sighed. "You're ruthless, Jonathan. She's your blood. A top student at Jiangcheng University, reduced to a husk of a woman. Last week, she was short three hundred dollars for your medicine. She came to me, begging."

Jonathan's expression darkened. "Did you give it to her?"

Vincent shook his head. "You gave a direct order. Did I have a choice?"

"That girl knelt at my doorstep for an entire afternoon," he continued, voice heavy. "She collapsed from starvation right there on the concrete. I was too afraid of you to even call an ambulance. When she finally woke up, she crawled away."

Vincent left out the ugly details.

That day, I had cast aside my last shred of dignity. I had practically thrown myself at him, clothes half-undone, offering my body for the cash. Jonathan's imported medication had been cut off for a week; I was terrified his condition would worsen.

But I had tapped out every resource.

Vincent had looked at me like I was a ghost and kicked me out in a panic.

So that's why, I realized, a bitter taste rising in my throat. It wasn't that he didn't want to lend me the money. He couldn't.

Jonathan sneered, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave.

"Listen to me, all of you. Until I bring Valerie back, no one helps Hazel. She can kneel, beg, or die right in front of your eyesyou do not engage. Valerie is sensitive. If Hazel's punishment is shortened by a single day, Valerie might relapse. Anyone who upsets my precious sister will answer to me."

The room fell silent. The men exchanged uneasy glances.

Even Jonathan's friends found the logic twisted. The silence in the private room was heavy until someone awkwardly broke it.

"Jonathan, aren't you afraid Hazel will find out the truth and leave you?"

Jonathan scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. We share the same blood. No matter the conflict, it's just an internal family matter. Hazel worships me. Even if someone held a knife to her throat, she wouldn't leave. This is just a small lesson." His tone shifted to protective tenderness. "Valerie is different. She's adopted, already at a disadvantage. It's only natural I compensate her."

His voice turned icy. "But remember: what happens here stays here. If word gets back to Hazel, don't blame me when our friendship ends."

I leaned against the cold corridor wall, the chill seeping into my bones. My limbs felt heavy, detached.

So that's it. Five years of bleeding myself dryall a joke to him.

My health, my dignity, my lifesacrificed because Valerie felt insecure. In Jonathan's eyes, my living hell was just an "insignificant family matter."

A hysterical laugh choked in my throat. Hot tears blurred my vision.

Inside the room, a phone rang. Heavy footsteps approached the door. Panic spiked. I spun to flee, but my coordination failed.

I slammed into Miranda Cole, the club manager.

Crash.

Two bottles of vintage winetens of thousands eachshattered on the floor.

Miranda's face twisted. Her hand cracked across my face before I could speak, knocking me to the ground.

The private room door swung open. Jonathan strode out, ignoring the commotion completely, eyes fixed on Valerie fluttering toward him.

"Why did you travel alone?" he scolded gently, pulling her into his arms. "I told you I'd pick you up. I've arranged a medical team at homefull body care, everything."

"I missed you, big brother!" Valerie giggled into his chest. "I wanted to surprise you!"

I knelt less than a meter away, face hidden behind a cheap mask. My gaze locked on her shoesencrusted with diamonds, glittering cruelly under the lights.

One stone could pay for a year of Jonathan's imported medicine.

"Mr. James, I'm so sorry," Miranda hissed, bowing low. "This clumsy idiot destroyed your wine."

Polished black shoes stopped inches from my nose.

Miranda grabbed my arm, twisting viciously. "Forgive the interruption. This fool can't even hold a tray. I'll have fresh bottles brought immediately."

The pain was sharp, but it paled against the time creditors snapped my ribs. Still, nausea churned in my stomach.

"Enough." Jonathan sounded bored.

He gestured at the mess of glass and wine. "Since you broke it, clean it up. Pick every shard from the carpet. With your hands." His eyes were ice. "If my sister steps on a single piece, I'll make you swallow it."

The carpet was thick and plush. Jagged glass had buried itself deep in the fibers, invisible.

I had no choice. I crawled forward, pressing my palms into the wool, finding razor-sharp edges by feel.

Valerie studied my hunched form, then hooked her arm through Jonathan's. "Brother, I'm tired."

"You delicate thing." He lifted her. "I'll carry you out. Too dangerous to walk here."

As he pivoted, his heavy shoe came down on my handgrinding the leather sole and the glass beneath it into my skin.

He didn't notice. He just walked away.

I knelt there, staring at shards embedded in my bleeding palm.

A strange sound escaped my lipshalf sob, half laugh.

Miranda recoiled. "What's wrong with you? Why are you bleeding?"

Warm liquid dripped from my nose onto the ruined carpet. I staggered up, wiping my face with my sleeve.

"Maybe he's dying."

I didn't wait for his reaction. I turned my back on his shock and staggered out of the club, blood dripping from my fingertips.

By the time I pushed open the front door, I was numb.

A crash echoed from the kitchen.

Jonathan was on the floor, struggling to hoist himself from his overturned wheelchair. He looked up, eyes rimmed red, like a guilty child caught in the act.

"Hazel... I just wanted to make you something to eat..." He slurred his words, saliva and tears running down his chin. "I'm useless. I'm just trash!"

He looked the part perfectlya man paralyzed for years, helpless and broken.

But as I watched him, a memory surfaced through the haze.

Before his "diagnosis," Jonathan had severe mysophobia. He used to scrub his hands raw twenty times a day. Wouldn't tolerate a speck of dust on his designer suits. Yet for Valerie, he had endured this squalor for five years.

Five years.

I had been played like a fiddle, dancing to his tune while he perfected his performance.

I wanted to cut his chest open just to see if his heart was flesh or stone.

When I didn't answer, he hung his head.

"Hazel, do you hate me now?" He gripped the armrest, veins bulging from the feigned effort. "You should go. A burden like me... I'm just dragging you down. Leave me here to rot."

I didn't speak. I righted the wheelchair and hoisted him into it, then turned to the sink, wrung out a warm towel, and wiped his face and hands. The movements were mechanicala routine etched into my bones over five agonizing years.

Suddenly, he caught my wrist. His eyes fixed on the fresh cut on my palm.

"How did this happen? Who hurt you?"

The concern looked so real. Bile rose in my throat.

"Someone who looks exactly like you," I whispered, staring straight into his eyes. "At the Starlight Club."

Jonathan's jaw tightened.

I let out a dry laugh. "But I know it wasn't you. My brother would never lie to me, right?"

Guilt flickered in his gaze before he looked away. "Of course not. You're my only family, Hazel. I would never deceive you."

I swallowed the burning lump in my throat, forcing back the tears. Without another word, I wheeled him to his room.

Later, while I was cooking, I heard his hushed voice drifting from the bedroom.

"Just listen to me. Be a good girl. I've prepared the biggest birthday gala for you. Tomorrow, I'll celebrate with you personally."

Valerie's voice crackled through the speaker, feigning concern. "But isn't tomorrow Hazel's birthday too? Won't she be upset if you're with me?"

"Silly girl, you are the only sister I treasure. Your happiness is all that matters. Hazel hasn't celebrated a birthday in five years. She's used to it. One more missed year won't kill her."

"I knew you loved me best!"

I stood frozen in the hallway. Finally, I untied my apron, dropped it on the counter, and walked out.

When Jonathan emerged, I was gone.

On the table sat a bowl of noodles, boiled to mush for easy swallowing, and a single expensive imported pill.

He knew I had the night shift.

As he looked at the food, my pale face flickered through his mind. The cut on my hand. My back at the stoveso thin I looked like I might snap in a strong wind.

Panic seized him. In that moment, Jonathan realized he couldn't recall what I used to look likethe vibrancy, the fire I once held.

A sharp pain struck his chest. An indescribable unease and guilt rose like bile in his throat.

His hands trembling, he grabbed his phone and dialed.

The next day, I took Jonathan to the hospital for his follow-up.

Dr. Jordan Armstrong, his attending physician, practically vibrated with excitement. "Miss James, incredible news. A private research institute abroad has developed an experimental ALS treatment. Clinical trials are showing remarkable resultsonly two spots left, and I secured one for your brother."

He was selling it hard. I simply nodded. "What are the odds of recovery?"

"Eighty percent."

Jonathan played his part perfectly, tears welling in his eyes. "Hazel, did you hear that? I can get better. I can stay with you forever."

I forced the corners of my mouth up. "That's good. If only one of us can survive, I want it to be you."

Jonathan froze.

Perhaps the gravity in my voice startled him. For a split second, he forgot to slur his speech or feign weakness.

His frown deepened, voice sharp and clear. "Don't talk nonsense. We'll both live long lives. When I recover, I'll rebuild the James Corporation. You'll be the princess of the James family again."

But I don't want to be a princess anymore.

I don't want the title, and I don't want you, Jonathan.

I'm giving it all to Valerie.

"We need to run pre-admission tests," Dr. Armstrong interrupted. "It'll take some time, Miss James. Why don't you wait outside?"

In the past, I would have believed him. I would have left Jonathan in their care and sprinted to my part-time jobs, racing against the clock to earn pennies for his "treatment."

Now, I knew better. It was just a pretext to get rid of me.

I stood at the corner of the deserted corridor, hidden in shadow. I watched my brotherthe man who supposedly couldn't walk without supportchange his clothes with fluid ease. He strode toward the elevator, impatience evident in his gait.

Downstairs, a sleek luxury car waited. He slid into the backseat and sped away.

I stared at the empty space where the car had been, then walked into a different doctor's office.

"Miss James," the oncologist said, voice heavy. "The tumor has grown too large. Inoperable. If you'd come two weeks ago, maybe... but now..."

He sighed, removing his glasses. "It's a matter of days. You should say your goodbyes."

I sat in silence for a long time, numbness spreading through my limbs. Finally, I nodded.

"After I die, cremate me immediately," I said, voice steady. "Send my ashes to the James Estate. Deliver them personally to Jonathan James."

I left the hospital with the last of my money. Just as I stepped onto the sidewalk, my phone buzzed.

A message from Valerie.

Come to the estate. There's something you need to see.

I hailed a taxi to the most exclusive villa district in the city.

For five years, I believed our family home had been seized by the court, auctioned off to pay debts. But as I stood before the carved iron gates, the mansion blazed with lightmore lively and opulent than I'd ever seen it.

Guests swarmed the lawn, a sea of designer gowns and tailored suits. Luxury dazzled at every turn.

Standing outside the gate in my worn, cheap clothes, I felt like a ghost from another world.

Valerie stood in the center of it all. She wore a sparkling tiara and haute couture, looking every bit the heiress, her arm linked possessively through Jonathan's.

They stood before a six-tier cake, surrounded by a wall of wrapped gifts. Valerie's face glowed with triumph.

She clasped her hands together, closing her eyes to make a wish loud enough for the crowd. "I hope to be Jonathan's only sister in this life, and to remain his little princess forever."

Jonathan smiled warmly and pulled a velvet box from his pocket.

The moment the lid snapped open, the blood in my veins turned to ice.

The Jade Pendant.

When Jonathan and I were born, our parents commissioned an eminent monk to consecrate two matching jade pendants. They were chanted over for a full year, carved with our names, and placed around our necks as infants. A blessing from Mom and Dad. A symbol of our lineage. The only tangible connection I had left to them after they died.

Even in my darkest, most desperate moments, I had refused to sell mine.

But now, Jonathan held the matching piecethe one that belonged to the James bloodline.

He had erased the original engraving.

It now bore the name Valerie James.

In front of the cheering crowd, he solemnly fastened the clasp around her neckstripping me of my history and handing my birthright to the woman who destroyed me.

"My little princess, congratulations. Your wish has come true."

I don't remember how I made it out of there.

My phone buzzed relentlesslya constant, stinging reminder.

"Actually, I recognized you that day at the Starlight Club."

"You saw everything clearly, didn't you?"

"The jade pendant is mine, and Jonathan is mine. You look like a mangy dog that no one wants."

"Living such a pathetic life... why don't you just die, Big Sister? Hehe."

When I didn't respond, Valerie sent one final message:

"Big Sister, I asked Jonathan to bring you a birthday gift. Enjoy it."

I wandered the streets like a hollow shell until nightfall. When I finally returned to our rental apartment, I understood exactly what Valerie meant by her "gift."

The front door hung open.

Inside, the room had been ransacked. Debris littered the floor. Jonathan was pinned to the ground by a group of men, struggling like a dying animal.

The scene was so familiar that a tremor ran through my body. My ribsbones snapped years agothrobbed with phantom agony.

"Long time no see, sweetheart. When are you paying up for this month?"

My face drained of color. "I paid off the entire debt. I don't owe you anything."

The gang leader picked his teeth with a toothpick and spat on the floor. "If I say you owe, then you owe. Don't want to pay? Fine." He glanced down. "I wonder how many hits your brother's pile of rotten bones can take."

He tapped the iron rod against Jonathan's spine.

"Hazel, run!" Jonathan cried out. "I'm the one who dragged you down. Forget about me! I'm just a crippleif they beat me to death, then so be it. I won't be a burden to you anymore!"

The exact same words. I had heard this script countless times over the last five years.

Exhaustion weighed on me like lead. I looked at the room full of thugs, then down at Jonathan. He looked pathetic, sprawled in the dirt, yet his eyes were clear. Alert.

How had I not seen it before?

It was laughable that I only realized it now. These men had threatened violence a thousand times, yet they had never actually laid a finger on Jonathan.

And I? To protect the brother who lied to me, I had suffered broken ribs, a permanent limp, and scars that would never fade.

My throat felt filled with sand. I swallowed hard. "What exactly do you want?"

The leader looked me up and down, a cruel grin spreading across his face. "Sweetheart, I really don't like that stubborn look in your eyes. How about this? There are a dozen of my brothers here. Crawl through our legs, one by one, and bark like a dog three times. Do that, and I'll consider today's debt settledjust for the fun of it."

Jonathan roared in feigned anger, "No! Hazel, you can't do that!"

I forced a numb smile. The last ember of warmth in my chest turned to ice.

"If that's what you want, then we're even."

My words were directed at the thug, yet Jonathan panicked.

He opened his mouth to stop me, but then remembered his promise to Valerie. This was the final punishment.

Just this last lesson, he told himself. As long as she takes it, I'll restore her status as the James heiress.

From then on, he would never let me suffer again.

Convinced by his own delusion, he averted his gazeand secretly snapped a photo of my degradation to send to Valerie.

Long after the crowd dispersed, I remained on the floor. It took an eternity to find the strength to stand.

Jonathan crawled toward me, eyes rimmed with red. He opened his mouth to recite his usual pitiful lines, but the sight of my dead, gray gaze silenced him.

The next day, the doctor arrived to take Jonathan abroad for his "treatment."

Before getting into the car, he turned back with every step. "Hazel, wait for me. When I come back, I swear I'll make you the most dazzling princess of the James family again. No one will ever bully you again."

I smiled, saying nothing.

As the car disappeared into the distance, I covered my mouth. I couldn't hold it back any longer. Warm, metallic liquid filled my throat.

I coughed up blood.

The doctor had warned me. When the tumor ruptured, it would be the end.

Strange, though.

As I collapsed, hitting the floor, fear didn't grip me. A peculiar calm settled in instead.

My fading consciousness didn't dwell on the pain. It drifted back to the brother he used to begentle hands braiding my hair, candy he'd sneak me, the cool washcloth on my forehead during fevered nights when he refused to leave my bedside.

His voice echoed from the past, warm and promising. "When I grow up, I'm going to make a fortune. I'll build you the biggest castle, Hazel. You'll be the happiest princess in the world."

Blood stained my phone screen as trembling fingers tapped out the words. I swallowed the tears. I wouldn't cry. Not now.

I sent Jonathan one last message.

Brother, I'm done waiting. Consider my life payment for whatever I owe you and Valerie. Please, just bury me beside Mom and Dad.

I hit send. My eyelids grew heavy, and the world faded to black.

Beside my lifeless hand, the phone buzzed violently against the floorboards.