Chapter 1

The doctor' s words were flat, stripped of all emotion, which somehow made them worse.

"It's a glioblastoma, Ethan. Stage four. It's aggressive, and it's inoperable."

I just stared at him, the fluorescent lights of the small office humming loudly in the sudden silence. The words didn't connect. It felt like he was talking about someone in a movie, not me. Me, Ethan Miller, a software engineer who was supposed to be on the verge of a breakthrough.

"How long?" I managed to ask, my own voice sounding distant.

"Without treatment, maybe a few months. With aggressive radiation and chemo, we might be able to extend that. But we need to be realistic about the quality of life."

I nodded, got up, and walked out without another word. The city air felt thick and heavy as I stumbled onto the street. My mind was a blank wall of static. Terminal brain cancer. On the same day I was supposed to finalize the code for my new social media algorithm, the one that was going to change everything for Harrison Tech.

I didn't want to go home. Not to the grand Harrison mansion that had been my home since I was adopted, but had never truly felt like mine. I needed to walk, to feel the pavement under my feet, to pretend this wasn't happening. I took a shortcut through a quiet alley, my head down, trying to process the impossible.

That' s when it happened.

A sudden, sharp blow to the back of my head sent me sprawling. Before I could even register the pain, another kick landed in my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I saw two figures, shadows against the dim light at the end of the alley. They didn't say anything. They just kept kicking, their movements brutal and efficient. My laptop bag, containing the culmination of three years of my life, was ripped from my shoulder. The last thing I felt was a boot connecting with my temple, and then everything went black.

I woke up to the sterile smell of antiseptic and the soft beeping of a machine. My head throbbed, and every inch of my body ached. A nurse told me I was lucky. Someone found me before I bled out.

I called my adoptive parents. Mr. and Mrs. Harrison.

"Ethan, darling, are you alright?" Mrs. Harrison's voice was filled with what sounded like panic. "We heard what happened. We' re on a business trip in Europe, it' s urgent, but we're trying to get the first flight back. Just rest, we'll be there as soon as we can."

Her words felt hollow, rehearsed.

My adoptive sister, Sarah, arrived a few hours later. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked genuinely exhausted as she rushed to my bedside.

"Ethan, I'm so sorry," she cried, hugging me carefully. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have insisted you go to that tech mixer tonight. If you hadn't gone..."

I tried to tell her it wasn't her fault, but my throat was too raw. I just squeezed her hand. For a moment, I felt a flicker of warmth. At least Sarah was here. At least she cared.

Later, as a nurse was helping me with the discharge papers, I saw Sarah step into the hallway to take a call. I was leaning against the doorframe, trying to stretch my aching legs, and I couldn't help but overhear her hushed, angry whisper.

"Mom, Dad, just to keep Noah from missing his big award ceremony, you let Ethan go through this? Isn't that too much?"

My blood ran cold. Noah. Their biological son, found only a year ago. A charismatic social media influencer with a charming smile and zero talent for anything substantial. The award ceremony. The business trip to Europe was a lie.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. A notification. I pulled it out with trembling hands. It was a social media post from my girlfriend, Chloe Davis. It was posted an hour ago, but it was already deleted. The preview was still visible in my notifications, a ghost of an image.

It was Noah Harrison, standing on a brightly lit stage, holding a golden trophy. On either side of him stood Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, their faces beaming with a kind of pride I hadn't seen since... ever. And there, resting her head on Noah's shoulder, her smile radiant, was Chloe.

The pain in my chest was sharper than any of the bruises on my body. The business trip. The award. The assault. It all clicked into place with sickening clarity. They didn' t just abandon me. They did this for him.

A bitter, broken smile touched my lips.

I' m a dead man walking anyway. They can have it all.