Chapter 2

Sarah was locked in her small home office, the cold seeping through the floorboards.

Her parents had insisted. Mark had agreed.

Fix Jessica' s app.

The pain was a relentless hammer against her skull.

Her fingers felt numb as she tried to type, the code blurring before her eyes.

This was how it always was.

Jessica' s crisis, Sarah' s burden.

Her suffering, their inconvenience.

She slumped over the keyboard, a wave of dizziness washing over her.

The Foundation' s tablet on the desk pulsed faintly.

"Six days, twenty-three hours remaining," the synthesized voice announced, indifferent to her agony.

Her death was a ticking clock.

"Sarah! Are you working or sulking?" Linda' s voice, sharp and impatient, came from the other side of the locked door.

"Jessica needs water. And she prefers it with lemon, thinly sliced, no seeds."

Forced to her feet, Sarah stumbled out of the office.

The living room was a tableau of concern, all focused on Jessica, who was artfully reclined on the sofa, a damp cloth on her forehead.

Mark was kneeling beside Jessica, murmuring soothing words, his hand gently stroking her hair.

"Don't worry, Jess," he said softly, his voice full of a tenderness Sarah hadn't heard directed at her in years. "Sarah will fix the app. She always does. And then we'll celebrate your success."

Jessica smiled weakly up at him. "You're so good to me, Mark."

Sarah prepared the water, her hands shaking so much she could barely hold the glass.

The contrast was a fresh stab of pain, deeper than the physical.

As Sarah offered the water, Jessica looked at her, a cruel glint in her eyes.

"You know, Sarah," Jessica said, her voice suddenly stronger. "For my app to truly succeed, for the investors to feel secure, they need to see a symbol of its stability, its core strength."

Linda nodded eagerly. "She's right, Sarah. What do you mean, darling?"

"I need Sarah to transfer all the intellectual property rights for the app's core code to me," Jessica announced. "Publicly. As a sign of her complete faith in my leadership."

David chimed in, "It's just a formality, Sarah. For Jessica's future."

Linda added, "It shows you support your sister, that you're not jealous of her success."

They didn't care about her well-being, only what she could provide.

This wasn't new. Years ago, Sarah had developed a groundbreaking financial modeling tool.

David had "borrowed" it, given it to Jessica, who presented it as her own to secure a prestigious internship.

Sarah had received no credit, only a lecture from Linda about being more generous.

"Why?" Sarah asked, her voice raspy. "Why do I have to keep giving everything to her?"

She looked at Mark. "If we're a team, Mark, why is it always my work under her name?"

Mark avoided her gaze. He stood up, his expression hardening.

"It's for the family, Sarah. Jessica is the face of this. It's what's best."

He dismissed her feelings, her contribution, with a wave of his hand.

"Just sign the papers. Don't make this difficult."

He produced a document, already prepared. Of course it was.

They forced her to sit at the dining table, a pen thrust into her hand.

Linda' s hand was heavy on her shoulder, David' s anxious face close to hers.

Mark watched, his arms crossed, impatient.

Her hand trembled violently as she tried to sign. The pen slipped, tearing the paper.

A searing pain shot through her arm, and she cried out, collapsing forward.

The world went dark.

When she came to, a paramedic was shining a light in her eyes.

"Her blood pressure is dangerously low," the paramedic said to Mark. "And she's running a high fever. She needs to be at a hospital."

The Foundation' s protocol. It was accelerating.

Mark entered the small, sterile room the hospital had put her in after stabilizing her.

He looked more annoyed than concerned.

"The doctor said you collapsed from stress and exhaustion," he stated, his tone accusatory.

"Is that all it is, Sarah? Are you sure?"

He didn't believe the simple explanation. He never did when it came to her.