Chapter 1: The Call That Changed Everything

My younger half-brother got into a car accident. I didn’t even have time to process the news before my phone rang—Nathaniel, barely holding it together, begging me to take in his daughter from his hospital bed. The desperation in his voice said it all, but the whole thing still felt unreal, like I’d been shoved into the middle of a nightmare I hadn’t seen coming.

The air in my apartment grew thick as I pressed the phone to my ear. I could hear the city humming outside—cars rolling by, horns in the distance—but it all felt far away. Nathaniel’s voice trembled, and I could practically picture him clinging to the hospital bed rail, knuckles gone pale. I swallowed, feeling that old ache in my chest. Family. It always finds a way to pull you back.

Just as I was about to say yes, a flood of voices crashed through my mind like a hallucination—sarcastic, sharp, and relentless:

"Your brother’s faking it. Don’t fall for it. He just wants you to raise that ungrateful brat, then take the fall when you’re left with nothing!"

"That little vixen is ruthless—sharp as a tack, cold as ice!"

"You’ve always been the family workhorse, sacrificing everything for everyone else!"

"Even after you die, they’ll accuse you of child abuse, drag you through court, and you’ll be stuck in a nightmare for a decade..."

The words zipped past like a news crawl at the bottom of the screen, piling up faster than I could even blink. Each one hit like a slap. My scalp tingled and a cold sweat crept down my back—the kind you get when you realize the rollercoaster’s about to drop. No way off. Not this time.

Nathaniel, still on the line, sounded desperate: “Dude, come on, say something! You’re the only family I can trust!”

I could hear him breathing hard on the other end. For a second, I almost gave in—almost. But those comments kept buzzing in my ears, drowning him out, louder than anything he said.

I changed my tone. “We’re only half-brothers. Shouldn’t your stepmom handle this? Isn’t she your real family now? Why am I the one you’re calling?”

I surprised myself with how cold I sounded. The words just spilled out, like some invisible hand was shoving a script in front of me, telling me to keep my guard up. Nathaniel went quiet. I could picture him frowning. “Dude, what are you talking about?”

I hit airplane mode and killed the call.

"Sorry, can’t hear you. Gotta hang up."

The comments blew up, like a crowd at a football game.

"He finally figured it out. Can he actually see us now?"

"Last time he was so clueless, I almost threw my phone. Parents gone, and this brother just wants to take everything—how can’t he see it?"

"The worst was when the little vixen betrayed him, that look on his face when the cops pinned him down!"

......

I stared at the phone, the comments still buzzing like static I couldn’t turn off. Turns out, I’m stuck in some kind of reality show—some cosmic rerun—and this is my second time through.

According to the script, I lost my parents young, and my gambling brother cleaned me out. They faked a death and dumped his scheming daughter on me.

The whole thing felt like a twisted soap opera. Only, the pain? That was real. Years later, I lost my home and savings, and then that little wolf accused me of being a predator—ended up wasting away in jail.

I couldn’t help it—my fists clenched. The comments just wouldn’t stop.

The air seemed to vibrate around me, the radiator ticked in the silence. I barely noticed. Suddenly, a new warning flashed across my mind:

"Still just standing there? Stepmom’s about to be at your door!"

"Run! That old bat’s trouble—she’ll force you to sign guardianship!"

"Tsk tsk, the little vixen’s about to show up. Last time she cried so pretty it broke my heart, but her heart’s stone cold!"

Someone pounded on my door. Hard.

My stepmother—broad-shouldered and booming—shouted from the hallway: “Colin Pierce, get out here! Your brother died so tragically, you heartless jerk, why’d you refuse his last wish?”

Her voice rattled the door, echoing down the hallway. I could just imagine the neighbors turning down their TVs, peeking out their peepholes. “Just because your dad’s gone doesn’t mean you, some orphan, can do whatever you want. I’m your mom—even if I’m your stepmom. Show some respect!”

No way was I opening the door. This old bat was legendary for her temper and her razor-sharp tongue. I let out a sigh, remembering the time she threw a frying pan at Nathaniel for coming home late.

I could picture her. Arms crossed. Eyes narrowed. Ready to unleash hell.

Suddenly, she changed tactics.

“Colin, if you don’t open up, I’ll make a scene right here. Let’s see how you keep your job after that!”

My job at the county clerk’s office? One whiff of scandal and I’d be out.

Small towns never forget. I could practically hear the whispers already—county offices thrive on gossip, and news spreads faster than a brush fire. She was ready to ruin me if it meant getting her way.

Just as my hand brushed the doorknob, a warning zapped through my mind:

"Don’t open it, it’s a trap!"

"You always open it. That old witch will have you under her thumb."