Substitute No More: The Sister They Lost

I stand in the hospital after my two older brothers decline all 99 of my phone calls. They finally appear, bringing with them the biological sister they found. My gentle eldest brother, who had once rescued me from my so-called abusive parents, raises his hand and slaps me across the face. "Cynthia, you're actually pretending to have a terminal illness just to compete with Sarah for our affection? And you came to this kind of place to frighten us?" I clutch my swollen cheek and listen as my second brother, who always says he'll trust me no matter what, holds Sarah in his arms and laughs out loud. "Are you trying to fake being sick to get our attention after seeing that Sarah is in poor health? "Just cut the act. You've been living in luxury since childhood and have always been in perfect health. How could you possibly be ill?" Sarah Crawford speaks up thoughtfully, "Don't blame her, you two. I think she just feels like I've stolen away your love for her, which is why she has become so unreasonable..." I look at the two brothers who have doted on me for ten years and suddenly feel that nothing matters anymore. After all, I only have seven days left to live. In seven days, everything will return to normal after my departure. But by then, they'll be the ones unable to accept it. Chapter 1 After my 99th call for help to my brothers was declined, I asked the doctor for the treatment withdrawal agreement. "Ms. Sinclair, are you certain you want to give up all active treatment?" Dr. Jones asked me once more for confirmation. I hummed in response and signed my name on the agreement. "You're still so young..." Dr. Jones looked at me with deep sympathy. "What about your family? Are you sure you don't need to notify them?" Before I could respond, the door behind me was suddenly pushed open. It was my brothers. They had actually come. Hope flickered in my heart. If they despised me, they wouldn't have rushed here. Maybe they still cared about me, even just a little? My eldest brother, Joseph, strode up to me. "What are you making a fuss over?" "Joe." I looked up at him, my weak voice carrying a thread of hope. "I... I need—" "Need what?" Joseph interrupted me, clearly angry. "Money? Attention? Cynthia, you're actually pretending to have a terminal illness just to compete with Sarah for our affection? And you came to this kind of place to frighten us?" The angrier he got, the more his chest heaved violently, and suddenly, he raised his hand. Almost immediately, a loud slap struck hard across my left cheek. I was stunned by the blow. Clutching my burning cheek, my voice was barely audible as I said, "I'm not faking my illness." My second brother, Thomas, frowned and stepped forward. He glanced at the diagnosis report in my hand and let out a mocking laugh. "Pancreatic cancer? If you're going to make something up, at least pick a believable disease. "You've been living in luxury since childhood and have always been much healthier than Sarah. How could you possibly get this kind of illness?" The usually gentle Thomas shook his head, looking at me with complete disgust. "Cynthia, you've been disappointing us more and more lately." I wiped away the blood flowing from my nose and lowered my head. Joseph's expression wavered slightly, as if he realized he had struck too hard. Sarah, who was also present, immediately teared up and said in a soft voice, "Joe, Tom, it's all my fault for insisting on celebrating my birthday. Cynthia must've felt hurt seeing how good you guys were to me, which is why she's acting this way." As she spoke, she reached out as if to help me. But when she got close, she whispered in a voice only I could hear, "Playing the victim card now? Do you think you deserve to?" My whole body turned cold, and I could feel the cancer sending waves of excruciating pain through my stomach. Joseph tenderly pulled Sarah into his embrace, gently comforting her. "It's not your fault. She's just being unreasonable." Thomas glanced at me coldly. "Cynthia, even if you're going to throw tantrums, you need to know how to pick your timing." Ah... I had forgotten. Today was Sarah's birthday. Joseph and Thomas, these two busy CEOs, had deliberately postponed several important meetings just to personally oversee the arrangements at the banquet hall. They hadn't rushed here to save me but to hold me accountable. I withdrew my gaze and turned to Dr. Jones. "Dr. Jones, I'd like to reserve a burial plot." "Cynthia!" Joseph's expression was incredulous. "Do you really have to use such manipulative tactics to compete for attention on Sarah's birthday?" Behind me came Thomas' mocking laughter. "Fine then. Since you love cursing yourself so much, I'll just wait and see. If you're not dead in seven days, then get out of this family forever." They then left with Sarah. Dr. Jones silently handed me tissues, his expression showing a tangle of emotions. I carelessly wiped the blood and tears from my face and numbly finished signing all the documents. When I walked out of the hospital, the sunlight hurt my eyes. I now had seven days left in this world. Chapter 2 I returned to the place that was once called "home" to pack up my belongings. The mansion was huge, but only the cold, damp little room at the end of the hallway belonged to me. Ever since Sarah came back, I no longer had the privilege of staying in one of the larger bedrooms. I pulled out a well-worn fairy tale book from under my bed, with a yellowed photograph tucked inside. This was taken during my first birthday at the Sinclair family, the only thing I hadn't been ordered to "give back" to Sarah. I had suffered from long-term abuse. Even after Joseph rescued me and brought me home, I was quiet for a very long time. I only recovered because Thomas had tried different ways to make me laugh every day, and Joseph had watched over me constantly. In the photograph, Joseph and Thomas stood on either side of me. I was wearing a beautiful white dress and smiling so happily. On the back, the words "our most beloved little princess" were written in small letters. Back then, I thought I finally had a family. Then, Sarah came back, and the way they looked at me became increasingly torn. My once spacious and bright bedroom, my pretty dresses, as well as my expensive school supplies, all disappeared with Sarah's return. Even my hard-earned admission to Yates University was snatched away when Sarah said she wanted company, and they forced me to withdraw and transfer to a different university. They said this was what I owed her because I had stolen her life for so many years. My phone suddenly vibrated, interrupting my memories. It was a call from the cemetery. "Ms. Sinclair, your reservation has been processed, but you need to pay a 30% deposit, or we can't hold the plot." "Alright, I'll pay immediately," I quickly agreed. But when I opened my phone to transfer the money, the numbers on the screen made me freeze instantly. My account balance was 32 dollars and 50 cents. Where was all the money I had saved for so long? My whole body trembled. All I could think about was how I couldn't even afford a burial plot now and would probably become a wandering spirit after death. The door was suddenly pushed open. Joseph stood in the doorway, his expression dark with anger. He waved his phone, the screen clearly showing a text notification of a failed bank transaction. "Cynthia, what are you up to now?" "I..." I opened my mouth, wanting to explain. But he had no intention of listening to me at all. "Sarah has been crying ever since your 99 phone calls interrupted her birthday party," he said with a cold laugh. "But she didn't blame you. Instead, she helped explain your behavior to everyone!" He raised his hand and threw his phone at my feet, his eyes blazing with fury. "And you, to make your act complete, actually want to reserve a burial plot? If I hadn't had my assistant freeze your cards, how much more of a fool would you have made of yourself?" "Joe." My voice trembled. "I was just—" "You're just a fake!" He suddenly raised his voice, interrupting me. "I didn't throw you out, and instead of being grateful, you dare to make my real sister sad?" He stubbornly believed that everything I did was out of jealousy toward Sarah. My whole body shook as tears fell onto the back of my hand. "Joe..." "Shut up!" He suddenly exploded with rage, grabbing me by the collar. "You have no right to call me by that nickname! You stole Sarah's life. She suffered so much because of you! And you still don't know you're wrong!" I didn't even know what I had done wrong, but everyone said I was a sinner. "I didn't..." "You didn't?" He let out a cold laugh, his eyes filled with utter disgust. "Weren't it your beast of parents who kidnapped Sarah all those years ago?" My whole body trembled. My parents? My memories of my parents contained only belts, cigarette burns, and dark closets. "I have nothing to do with them—" My voice shook. "Stop playing the victim," Joseph interrupted me impatiently. "They only pretended to abuse you so that they could send you, this imposter, into our family! Too bad they've disappeared without a trace now, so..." He leaned down and enunciated every word, "Whatever you owe Sarah, you'll have to pay back on their behalf." I stared at him in horror, my throat feeling blocked. I was unable to say a single word. Just then, the door was pushed open again, and Thomas walked in with Sarah. "Cynthia, Sarah's been unhappy the whole day." Thomas frowned. "She says she didn't get your birthday wishes. She didn't even eat her cake." Sarah's eyes were slightly red as she timidly handed me a slice of cake. "Cynthia, I specially brought back a slice for you. I wanted to share my happiness with you." I looked down and saw that the cake had a mango filling, and the top had been sprinkled with crushed peanuts. Both were things I was severely allergic to. If I ate this cake, I would break out in rashes all over my body, and my throat might even swell shut. "I can't eat this." I stepped back. Sarah's eyes immediately reddened. She bit her lip and looked at Joseph with grievance. "Joe, did I do something wrong again?" Joseph frowned. "Cynthia, Sarah specially brought this for you. Don't be ungrateful." Thomas simply took a piece of the cake and held it to my mouth. "One bite won't kill you." He stared at me, his eyes cold. "Consider it an apology to Sarah." I looked at that piece of cake and suddenly laughed. They clearly knew I was allergic. They just didn't care. Sarah was still sobbing. Joseph tenderly held her, whispering words of comfort, while Thomas impatiently urged, "Hurry up. Don't make Sarah sad." I reached out and took it. Under the watchful eyes of all three, I ate that spoonful of cake. After all, I was going to die soon anyway. What did an allergic reaction matter? I swallowed it, looked up, and smiled. As I smiled, tears began to flow. "Thank you for the treat." Chapter 3 After swallowing, my throat immediately began to burn. Sarah's eyes lit up as she linked her arm with mine affectionately. "See? Nothing happened! You must've been lying before." My whole body turned cold, and my skin began to itch. "Cynthia, let's go downstairs and open presents!" she said, her arm still around mine. "I got so many gifts this year." Something similar happened last year. When Sarah first came back, she had pulled me along to open presents just like now. She unwrapped an exquisite music box and handed it to me to admire but deliberately let go of it during the handoff. The music box fell to the floor and shattered. She immediately teared up and asked timidly, "Cynthia, do you not like that I came back?" That day, the furious Joseph ordered me to crawl to her bedroom door and write an apology letter. Thomas just watched coldly. He even punished me by forbidding me to eat for a week. In the last two days, driven mad by hunger, I desperately begged the maid and finally got a piece of stale bread. And now, history was about to repeat itself. The red rashes on my body had already spread to my neck, and breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. I struggled to pull my hand away. But Sarah gripped me tightly, her nails digging into my flesh. Her tone sounded aggrieved as if I were bullying her. "Cynthia, do you hate me?" "Let go..." My vision was turning black from pain as I gritted my teeth and shook her off. She staggered back two steps, her knee hitting the floor. She let out an exaggerated cry of pain. She clutched her leg, tears instantly streaming down her face. "It hurts!" Joseph's expression changed dramatically as he rushed over to help her up and examine her carefully. There was just a small scrape, and it wasn't even bleeding. But his eyes had already turned cold. "Cynthia!" He grabbed me by the collar. "Have you lost your mind? She was just trying to get close to you!" "She was the one who..." Before I could finish, I was shoved to the ground. My ears were ringing, and my throat had swollen to the point where I could barely speak. But none of them noticed anything wrong with me. "I didn't... push her..." I struggled to defend myself. "Still making excuses?" Thomas walked over with a cold laugh. "You know perfectly well that Sarah gets panic attacks when she's hurt. How can you be so vicious?" My vision was already starting to blur, and my heart was beating so fast it felt like it might explode. Joseph stared at me coldly, his eyes filled with extreme disappointment. "Cynthia, you're truly beyond help. Go back to your room and reflect!" I looked at him, dizzy and disoriented. This twisted man's face overlapped with the one who had pulled me out of hell all those years ago. That warm young man had disappeared long ago. "Fine." I nodded and shakily stood up, but instead of heading to my room, I turned around and walked toward the front door. "You dare to leave?" Joseph shouted sternly. "If you walk out now, don't even think about coming back!" I didn't stop walking. "Cynthia!" Thomas' voice carried a warning. "You'd better think this through. You have nowhere else to go besides here!" They had always believed I couldn't survive without this place, that I could only live my entire life depending on them. But they were wrong. I dragged my sick body away from the mansion district. The red rashes on my skin had spread, and my throat was so swollen that I could barely breathe. I had just reached a corner of the street when I heard hurried footsteps behind me. "Cynthia!" Sarah caught up, clutching several crumpled bills in her hand. Her face still bore tear stains, and her tone was soft and weak. "Don't leave. Joe and Tom are just too angry. If you go back and apologize, everything will be fine." Before I could reach for the money, Joseph and Thomas had already followed her out. "Sarah, you're too kind," Joseph said, casting a cold glance at me. "She doesn't deserve your sympathy." Thomas let out a mocking laugh and put his arm around Sarah's shoulder. "Let her go." Sarah looked at me with feigned hesitation, then finally sighed with regret and kept the money. "Alright then," she said quietly. "Cynthia, whenever you come to your senses, you can always come back." I looked at them one last time. Sarah nestled in Thomas' embrace, and a victorious smile played at the corners of her mouth. She was certain that I would never be able to return after causing this scene. Thomas frowned as he stared at me, like he was looking at a troublesome burden who didn't know better. Joseph's expression was a mix of anger and disappointment, without a trace of wavering. I smiled lightly and waved my hand. Then, I walked into the night without looking back. Behind me came Joseph's furious roar. "Cynthia Sinclair! Don't you regret this!" Regret? I had been regretting it for a long time already. I regretted that I had once naively believed they would truly be my family. Chapter 4 The money in my account wasn't enough for a hotel, so I returned to the hospital and curled up on a bench in the hallway. The allergic reaction was getting worse. My breathing became labored, and my whole body burned like it was on fire. In my dazed state, I had a dream. In it, I was back to being a child. Back then, my parents would lock me in a pitch-black closet. Belt beatings and cigarette burns were common occurrences. I never understood why they treated me like I wasn't their own daughter. Until one day, 17-year-old Joseph came across my father beating me and yelling at me on the street. He gave my father a sum of money and picked me up. "Don't be afraid," he said in a firm and gentle voice. "From now on, I'll be your brother." He then brought me back to the Sinclair residence, gave me a new name, new clothes, and a new room. Thomas was Joseph's younger brother. He said that from then on, wherever they were would be my home. During those years, they truly spoiled me like a little princess. That was until Sarah came back. The images in my dream suddenly twisted. I pushed open a door and saw Sarah crying on the couch. She was dirty all over, and when she looked at me, her eyes were full of hostility. Joseph held her, comforting her softly. "Don't be afraid. She won't affect your place in this family." Thomas looked at me with a complicated expression. "Cynthia, this is Sarah, our biological sister." Only then did I learn that when they rescued me all those years ago, it was because I looked like Sarah, whom they had lost. After that, they became much colder toward me, but at least they didn't make me leave. I tried hard to please Sarah, thinking sincerity could earn sincerity in return. But she hated me from the very beginning. "What gives you the right?" she whispered venomously. "You stole my life. I'll make you pay me back double." After that, she deliberately broke Joseph's antique vase and framed me for it. She faked allergies and accused me of poisoning her. One day, she even grabbed my hand on the staircase and pushed herself down, then screamed, "Cynthia, why did you push me?" And every time, Joseph and Thomas happened to witness it. She would cry and say, "I didn't mean to steal Cynthia's affection..." "A fake should be grateful just to stay in this house," Joseph said coldly. "How dare you hurt my real sister?" Gradually, everything that once belonged to me disappeared. When Sarah's friends bullied me at school, they turned a blind eye. When I was starving with stomach pains at home, they never noticed that Sarah was throwing away my food. My pancreatic cancer probably started around that time. But at least back then, they hadn't started to hit me yet. It started that day when Sarah said there was a stray cat in the attic. She wanted to stay and check on the situation, so she asked me to get some tools. When I returned carrying the heavy toolbox, I saw our two furious brothers holding Sarah, who had cried herself to exhaustion. "Cynthia! How dare you?" Joseph's eyes were blazing with anger. "Don't you know Sarah has claustrophobia and a panic disorder? You locked her in here. Were you trying to kill her?" I frantically explained that Sarah had never told me about these conditions, but they didn't believe me at all. Even the gentle Thomas looked at me with nothing but cold hatred. That was the first time they hit me. Chapter 5 "Miss? Miss!" Someone gently shook me. I opened my eyes to see the night shift doctor's worried face. "You have a fever, and your allergic reaction is severe," she said with a frown. "Let me take you for an examination." I nodded, my voice hoarse. "Thank you." The test results came back quickly. "Your condition..." She hesitated, then sighed. "You had only a week left due to late-stage pancreatic cancer, but the allergic reaction has accelerated organ failure. Now, it's two days at most." I was stunned for a moment, then shook my head. "It's okay. But I'm so hungry. Could you get me something to eat?" I trembled as I pulled out my phone, wanting to show her my balance. "I still have a little money." Her eyes reddened as she poured me a cup of water and pressed it into my hands. "Drink some water first. I'll get you something to eat. No charge." She hurried away, and I held the hot water, taking a small sip. Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Joseph, sent an hour ago. "Sarah's worried about you and went to look for you. Apologize to her properly and stop this nonsense." Before I could reply, the ward door was suddenly pushed open and locked with a click. I looked up fearfully, and Sarah was standing in the doorway. The fake concern on her face disappeared when she saw that the ward was empty. "I figured you'd come to the hospital for allergy medicine. I was right!" She rushed over and knocked the cup out of my hand with a swift motion. Hot water splashed all over me, and I couldn't help but cry out in pain. "Playing the victim again?" she sneered. "Why aren't you dead yet?" "Don't worry..." I gasped, my swollen throat making my voice raspy. "You'll get your wish soon enough." "Stop lying!" She acted like she had heard the world's biggest joke. She crouched down and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at her hate-filled eyes. "You still came to the hospital for help, didn't you? Don't pretend like you've accepted everything. I hate it when you act like that! I also hate those two idiots who lost me! They made me grow up in a common family that couldn't even afford to buy me decent clothes!" She gritted her teeth, her expression twisted as she continued, "But I hate you most of all! You worthless bastard from who knows where, taking my place and enjoying the love that should've been mine!" I interrupted her, my gaze empty. "Now, all that love belongs to you, doesn't it?" "Give me a break!" She let out a mocking laugh. "They still feel some attachment to you! If they really despised you, they would've thrown you out long ago! They still care about you, and that makes me sick!" The more she spoke, the more agitated she became. She suddenly kicked me hard, right in my agonizing abdomen. I immediately curled up in pain. "I'm warning you not to hold onto any hope!" She kicked me again while confessing to all her past lies. "I broke the music box myself! I threw myself down the stairs! I faked the panic attacks too and had people spread those rumors at school!" She laughed viciously. "You think they're really stupid enough not to see through my tricks? But they choose to believe me! It's because I'm their real sister! They feel guilty for me! And you're just a tool to prove how determined they are to make it up to me!" She spoke in a cheerful tone, then shoved me hard against the wall. "I hope you remember this lesson and never show your face around us again!" I hit the concrete with a sickening thud, then slid limply to the floor. "Hey! Stop playing dead!" She kicked my leg, but I could no longer feel anything. My soul was rising from my body, with a light, floating sense of release. "C-Cynthia?" Her voice began to tremble. I watched her crouch down, her fingers trembling as they reached toward my nose to check my breath, but she suddenly jerked back. Her face turned deathly pale. "No, impossible..." She staggered backward. "It wasn't me. I didn't kill her... I just lightly... S-She deserved to die!" I watched her frantically unlock the door and flee, stumbling and crawling. I simply smiled softly. … The door was suddenly pushed open as the doctor rushed in carrying food. "I made you some pasta. You..." Her words came to an abrupt halt. That was when she saw my lifeless face and vacant, staring eyes. The food fell from the doctor's hands. She rushed to my side, her trembling fingers checking for my breath again. There was no pulse, and I wasn't breathing. Even my body was already growing cold. "Oh God... Oh my God..." The doctor collapsed to the floor. She saw the fresh, brutal wounds on my body and immediately understood. She pulled out her phone with shaking hands. Then, using the emergency contact information from my registration, she dialed Joseph's number. The call connected, and Joseph's impatient voice came through. "Who is this?" The doctor took a deep breath. She was trying to suppress her tears and anger, and her voice was ice-cold as she asked, "Is this Mr. Joseph Sinclair? This is the emergency department at City General Hospital. "Please come here immediately. Ms. Cynthia Sinclair... has been confirmed dead. We need you to identify the body." A roar came from the other end of the phone. "What kind of joke is this? Put Cynthia on the phone! Let her talk to me herself!"