Chapter 2

The memory of my previous life was a brand, always present, always burning.

After I "saved" him that day in Orlando, Kevin' s resentment festered.

He' d been a difficult child, always entitled, always believing he deserved more than our modest, middle-class life.

Our parents, Robert and Susan Miller, ran a single, beloved diner in suburban New Jersey, working hard, providing everything we needed.

But for Kevin, it was never enough.

He' d spun a tale of a wealthy family wanting to "adopt" him, a fantasy he clung to with a disturbing intensity.

My intervention shattered that fantasy, and he never let me forget it.

He became a master of subtle cruelty, of gaslighting and manipulation.

He'd "lose" my important school assignments, "accidentally" break cherished possessions, spread rumors that isolated me.

As we grew, his torments became more sophisticated.

He sabotaged my relationships, my career opportunities, always with a plausible deniability that left our parents bewildered, often siding with their "charming" son.

He saw me as the architect of his failed destiny, the reason he wasn't living a life of luxury.

The poisoning was just the final, inevitable act of his lifelong vendetta.

Now, standing in the Orlando heat, that future a fresh, raw wound, I began my performance.

I waited a carefully calculated hour, then found a park security guard.

My voice trembled, my eyes wide with manufactured panic.

"My brother," I choked out, "Kevin. He's missing. We got separated."

The search began, a chaotic, futile effort in the throng of tourists.

I gave a vague description of the men, the van, careful to omit any detail that might actually help.

I cried, I wrung my hands, I played the part of the terrified older sister.

The police investigation, as I knew it would, hit a wall.

Too many people, no clear surveillance, a "runaway" teenager seeking adventure – that was the easiest conclusion.

My parents rushed to Orlando, their faces etched with a grief I knew intimately, a grief I now wielded.

I watched them, a strange mix of pity and a dark, cold satisfaction stirring within me.

The plan was in motion. Kevin was gone.

And I was the grieving sister, left behind.