Chapter 3

Aurora Hinton POV:

My eyes stung, a familiar burn I'd learned to suppress. I turned to leave, needing to escape the suffocating warmth of their little family circle before it choked me.

"Aurora, wait."

It was Abel. He stopped me at the door, his expression unreadable.

"Annabell needs your research paper," he said, not meeting my eyes. "The one on degenerative cell regeneration. Her final thesis is due, and with her health... she can't finish it."

A bitter, acidic taste filled my mouth. It wasn't just my kidney. It wasn't just my fiancé. They wanted my mind, too.

For as long as I could remember, I had been Annabell's shadow academic. I wrote her essays, completed her projects, even took her online exams. She reaped the rewards-the scholarships, the accolades, the praise from our proud parents-while I remained invisible. Plagiarism was the foundation of her entire academic career, a career built on my work.

"Please, Rory," my mother chimed in, rushing over. She put a hand on my arm, her touch a strange mix of pleading and command. "It's just a paper. Your sister has been through so much. She deserves to graduate with honors. It's the least you can do."

The least I could do. After giving her my life.

I forced a smile, a brittle, cracking thing. "Of course. Anything for Annabell."

What was one more sacrifice? I would be gone soon. What would happen to her then, when her crutch was kicked out from under her? The thought brought me a sliver of dark, grim satisfaction.

"Thank you," Abel breathed, relief making his shoulders slump. He pulled a USB drive from his pocket. My USB drive. The one I kept my entire life's work on. He must have taken it from my apartment.

They had planned this all along.

Annabell, from her throne of pillows, gave me a small, triumphant smirk. It was a look I knew well. The look of a victor.

Abel moved back to her side, leaning down to kiss her forehead. The gesture was so intimate, so tender, it felt like a physical blow. A hot, furious rage coiled in my stomach, so potent it made me want to scream, to tear the whole sterile room apart.

But I swallowed it down, just as I had swallowed every other injustice, every other slight, every other piece of my stolen life.

No one noticed when I slipped out of the room. I was already a ghost to them.

Back in my apartment, I started to clean. I packed my books into boxes, threw away old photographs, and stripped my bed of its linens. I wanted to erase any trace of myself, to leave nothing behind for them to mourn, or more likely, to conveniently forget.

A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my lower back, making me gasp and clutch the wall for support. My body was failing faster now. The exhaustion was a heavy cloak I couldn't shrug off.

I was really dying. The thought wasn't frightening anymore. It was just a fact.

A sudden, loud banging on my door made me jump. I opened it to find Abel, his face a mask of cold fury. Behind him stood my parents, and between them, Annabell, sobbing hysterically into my mother's shoulder.

"How could you?" Abel snarled, shoving past me into the apartment. He waved his phone in my face. On the screen was an academic forum, my paper posted under Annabell's name, and a comment section filled with vitriol.

"You told your professor," he accused, his voice shaking with rage. "You told everyone she plagiarized it. You're trying to destroy her!"

Annabell's cries grew louder. "She posted online that I'm a fraud," she wailed. "She said I'm a liar! Everyone hates me now!"

"Don't you worry, my sweet girl," my mother cooed, glaring at me over Annabell's head. "We'll make her apologize. We'll make her fix this."