Chapter 1

I watched Michael pace outside Chloe's ICU room, his face tight with worry.

It was strange, seeing him from here, a place that wasn't really a place at all.

Just a cold awareness, tethered to him.

My brother.

The one who hated me.

Dr. Peterson walked by, his expression grim.

"Michael, you missed several urgent calls during the surgery."

Michael barely glanced at him, his eyes fixed on Chloe's door.

"I was busy, Dr. Peterson."

"They were from Sarah's university."

Michael finally pulled out his phone.

His thumb scrolled, then stopped.

Multiple missed calls from my Resident Advisor.

Voicemails.

He pressed play, his jaw clenching as the RA's worried voice filled the quiet corridor.

"Dr. Miller, it's about Sarah. She's not well. Please call me back. It's urgent."

Michael scoffed, a harsh, ugly sound.

"Drama queen," he muttered, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

"Always crying wolf for attention, or money."

That's what he always said.

For years.

He ran a hand through his already messy hair.

"Chloe is in there fighting for her life, quiet bravery, and Sarah pulls this stunt."

His voice was low, bitter.

"I was right to cut her full tuition. Let her learn some responsibility with loans and a job."

I drifted closer, a whisper of cold air he couldn't feel.

Responsibility.

He always talked about responsibility.

Especially after the accident.

Eight years ago.

Our parents.

He blamed me.

Said I insisted they go to my middle school play, that stormy night.

Said my "childish demands" killed them.

He never let me forget it.

He became my guardian, but he was never a brother again.

Just a source of cold checks for basic needs and a constant, heavy silence.

He sent me to a state university, far away, while he built his perfect life, his brilliant career.

And now, Chloe.

His new sister.

The one he chose.

The one he poured everything into.

The RA's voice echoed in my non-existent ears.

Urgent.

He didn't care.

He never cared.