Chapter 1

The system's voice was cold and mechanical in my head.

[System elimination in 24 hours.]

[Affection and love values from all targets remain at zero.]

[Final task failed. Commencing elimination protocol.]

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall. The countdown was a quiet hum in my mind, a clock ticking away the last moments of a life I had fought so hard for. A life spent trying to win a game I was designed to lose.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, a harsh, demanding sound. It was my husband, David.

I let it ring, but he was persistent. Finally, I picked it up.

"Olivia, where are you?" His voice was tight with panic, no trace of the cold indifference he usually had for me.

"Home."

"Get to the hospital. Now. It's Emily."

My heart didn't even flutter. It was always Emily. My perfect, fragile twin sister.

"What happened?" I asked, my own voice sounding distant.

"It's her kidneys. They've failed, Olivia. Both of them. The doctors say she needs a transplant immediately or she'll die."

He was crying now, his words choked with fear for her. I closed my eyes. Of course. It had come to this. The ultimate sacrifice.

"The doctor said family members are the best bet. They're testing Mom and Dad, but you... you're her twin. You're the perfect match, Olivia. You have to do this."

I stayed silent, listening to the hum of the system in my head. Elimination in 23 hours and 47 minutes.

"Did you hear me?" David shouted into the phone. "Your sister is dying!"

"I hear you," I said softly.

A wave of relief washed through his voice. "Good. I'm at the hospital now. We'll be waiting. Don't be late."

He hung up. He didn't ask if I was okay. He didn't ask if I was willing. He demanded it. Just like they all did.

My mother called next.

"Olivia, you get down to this hospital right now! How can you be so selfish? Your sister needs you!"

Her voice was shrill, laced with the familiar disappointment she always had for me.

"Mom, I-"

"Don't you 'Mom' me! We've given you everything. A good husband, a place in this family. The least you can do is save your sister's life. She's not strong like you. She's always been delicate."

Delicate. That was the word they always used for Emily. It was their excuse for everything. Their excuse for loving her more, for giving her everything she wanted, for letting her get away with cruelty.

I was the strong one. The one who was supposed to endure, to give, to sacrifice without complaint.

I thought back to five years ago, when my father needed a kidney. Emily was a match, but she had cried and locked herself in her room, saying she was too scared. I was a match too. I did the surgery in secret, letting everyone believe it was Emily who saved him. I spent a week in a private clinic recovering, while my family coddled Emily, praising her for her "selfless, brave heart." They told everyone I had a bad flu and couldn't have visitors.

I did it for a sliver of my father's love. He never even looked at me after.

Now they wanted my other one.

The system's countdown continued. 23 hours and 30 minutes.

It didn't matter anymore. My time was almost up. If giving them my last kidney would make them happy, just for a moment, then what was the point in refusing?

"I'm on my way," I said, my voice empty.

"And don't you dare cause a scene," my mother snapped before hanging up.

I stood up and walked to the mirror. The woman staring back was a stranger, her eyes hollow. I had tried so hard. For twenty-eight years, I had tried to be the daughter they wanted, the wife David wanted. The sister Emily needed me to be.

It was never enough.

My husband's words echoed in my head. He had been so happy when I agreed. He'd probably embrace me when I arrived, tell me he was proud, maybe even promise he wouldn't divorce me like he'd been threatening to.

The thought brought a bitter taste to my mouth.

His love was conditional. Their love was a prize I could never win.

I looked at the countdown in my mind's eye. It was oddly comforting. An end to the struggle.

I walked out of the house without a coat, not feeling the chill in the air. The pain didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.