Chapter 3

3.

Marcus is three years older than me. We're orphans. The real kind.

Our father died of a fentanyl overdose in a truck stop restroom when I was five. Our mother vanished. Never saw her again.

We survived on foster homes and state checks. The kind of hardship only we understood.

Dumpster diving behind convenience stores for just-expired food was normal. Begging quarters for wiping windshields at gas stations was normal.

Eventually we clawed our way into college on scholarships and loans. Started working. I thought we'd finally made it.

Then his senior year―end-stage renal disease. He needed a transplant.

He wanted to give up. Couldn't afford it.

I got tested in secret. A perfect match.

I emptied the last twelve thousand dollars from the trust our grandmother left us. Donated my kidney.

I made sure the hospital signed strict privacy agreements. The social workers, the surgeons―nobody told him.

Same recovery wing. He never knew.

I didn't want him carrying that weight. He'd suffered enough his whole life. I wasn't going to let him spend the rest of it drowning in guilt toward me.

He got angry later―furious I'd touched the trust money. Disappointed I'd vanished for over ten days during his surgery. I just smiled and brushed it off.

Now, seeing him healthy, almost like any normal person―I was genuinely happy for him.

To me, Marcus was my only family. The one who raised me.

My only blood in this world.

When I saw him, my nose stung. Every buried hurt surged up my throat.

"Marcus―"

My voice broke.

He slapped me.

Hard. Across the face. The blow choked every word of grief right out of me.

I stared at him. Too shocked to see his expression clearly anymore.

"Vanessa. I am so goddamn disappointed in you. How dare you?"

"Last year you pushed Olivia down the stairs. Deliberately. She lost the baby. She didn't press charges because of me."

"But you just keep going. You crashed her birthday party. Made a scene. Gave her a concussion. When did you become this vicious?"

"She forgave you. Again. But after you're discharged, you will get on your knees and apologize to her."

I kept staring, silent.

He screamed: "I'm talking to you! Do you hear me?!"

"I spoiled you. That's the problem. I made you forget your place."

I looked at this man―face red, features twisted, unrecognizable.

Was this really Marcus?

Over twenty years of memories flooded through me.

When we were kids, he did spoil me. Protected me.

But after he fell for Olivia―got tangled up in her emotional games with Joseph―he became volatile. Erratic.

He was jealous of Olivia's boarding school history with Joseph. But he couldn't let go of the scraps of warmth and flirtation she threw his way.

I knew him. A childhood starved of love made him desperate and insecure. The missing kidney carved a deep hollow of shame inside him.

And Olivia? Upper East Side heiress. Trust fund. European degree. Beautiful.

He looked at her with awe. He'd comply with anything she asked, even if it targeted me. And he wouldn't care. Back then it was all small stuff.

At first I tried to talk to him.

Eventually I understood. He was a grown man. He knew right from wrong.

The way he acted was a choice. His choice.

It hurt. But I genuinely hoped he'd find his happiness.

Now here he was. Storming into an ICU room, basing everything on one unsupported accusation, demanding answers from me―me, who had just lost her baby and her uterus.

I didn't know this man.

He wasn't the Marcus who once stayed up all night, terrified, because my fever hit 104.

Something thick and metallic rose in my throat. I gagged. Blood spilled past my lips.

Marcus froze. A flicker of pain crossed his eyes.

But he gritted his teeth. He didn't come to me. He turned to leave.

At the door, he stopped. His back to me. His voice was ice.

"Vanessa. Everything happening to you―you brought it on yourself. And if you ever go after Olivia again, I won't forgive you either."

The door slammed.

I stared at it for a long time. Wiped the corner of my mouth with my hand.

Blood smeared my fingertips. Tears blurred it, spreading the red in circles.

Tilting my head back, I tried to force the tears down.

It didn't work.

I really regretted it.

Regretted scheming my way into marrying Joseph. Regretted stepping into this chaos.

Olivia wavered between my husband and my brother. Stringing along Marcus―sweet, obedient Marcus who gave her everything―while refusing to let go of her first love, Joseph.

So why?

Why were my baby and I the casualties of their game?