Break Family Bonds, Stop Catering

"Nayeli, so what if you're the McCarthy family's precious daughter?"

"Your brothers hate you!"

Nayeli McCarthy was chained to a rusted iron bed, her wrists and ankles raw and festering. The air reeked of blood and decay.

Lucia Montes stood beside the bed, gripping a scalpel. The blade caught the light as she smiled coldly.

"Carlos said if we harvest all your organs and sell them, we should make a decent profit!"

Nayeli's pupils contracted sharply. Her body thrashed violently.

The iron bed rattled and clanged. The chains dug deeper into her wounds, blood streaming down her wrists.

"Hold her down!"

At Lucia's command, two figures in white coats stepped forward—one pinning Nayeli's shoulders, the other her legs.

Lucia raised the scalpel and drove it hard into Nayeli's side.

A bloodcurdling scream tore from Nayeli's throat.

But Lucia wasn't finished. She grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured it directly onto Nayeli's exposed abdomen.

"Ahhh!"

The alcohol seared her wounds. Nayeli's nails dug into her palms as hoarse, ragged screams clawed out of her throat.

"Stop screaming. I'm just disinfecting you."

Lucia rolled her eyes impatiently and picked up the scalpel again, this time aiming for Nayeli's ankle.

"You were always so proud of your figure skating skills. So I'm going to cut every single tendon in your feet, one by one. You'll never skate again."

With those cruel words, her hand moved swiftly.

With each cut, she carefully teased out the white tendons from the muscle, then severed them with the tip of the blade.

"See this one... this one... and this one..."

Nayeli's screams shifted from sharp shrieks to low, guttural moans. Her body trembled uncontrollably. Sweat and blood mixed together, soaking the sheets a deep crimson.

"There. That foot's done." Lucia wiped the blood off her blade and clapped her hands. "One more to go. I'll finish tomorrow—I'm tired."

Nayeli convulsed from the pain. She'd bitten through her tongue, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

"Why..."

Lucia tilted her head, her smile vicious. "Why? Because from the very beginning, not one of them ever saw you as their sister."

"The sister they love—it's always been me. Only me."

"That competition routine you were accused of plagiarizing? Nehemiah hacked your computer and stole it for me."

"All those trolls attacking you online? Miguel hired every single one."

"And that time your skate blade broke and you shattered your leg? Hector had someone sabotage it."

Nayeli's eyes blazed with fury. That accident had ended her figure skating career. She'd thought it was just bad luck—never imagining her own family had orchestrated it.

"Oh, and Kason wanted me to tell you something. If you transfer all the money your parents left in that Swiss account to me, he'll let you die with some dignity. Otherwise..."

She paused, her tone turning glacial. "He'll keep you alive and make you suffer for three days and three nights."

Nayeli's body shook violently. Her heart felt like it had been pierced by a thousand needles—the physical pain barely registered anymore.

Everything that had destroyed her... her own family had done it.

And she'd been a fool, completely in the dark.

Lucia savored the death-like pallor of Nayeli's face and picked up a towel from the table to wipe her hands.

"They said your body's still worth something. Once we've sold off everything we can, they'll just dump your ashes in a trash can somewhere."

"When you get to the other side, stay away from the McCarthy family. You weren't wanted when you were alive—don't be a nuisance when you're dead either."

With that, she turned and walked toward the door.

Nayeli lay on the iron bed. A single tear of blood slid from the corner of her eye and silently pooled in her ear.

With the last shred of strength she had, she forced words from her throat:

"Lucia... you... you'll all burn in hell..."

Lucia stopped at the door and glanced back, her smile sickeningly sweet.

"Burn in hell? Nayeli, I'm not going to hell. I'm going to live and enjoy everything that was yours."

The door slammed shut. The basement plunged into total darkness.

Nayeli's body grew colder, bit by bit. Her consciousness sank slowly into the black.

Just before it was extinguished completely, one thought filled her mind.

If she could do it all over again, she would never try to win anyone's favor.

Never beg for mercy.

She would repay every ounce of suffering she'd endured—a thousand times, ten thousand times over.

——

"Nayeli, how could you be so cruel? Why did you deliberately hurt Lucia?"

A sharp pain in her knee against the ice yanked Nayeli out of the endless darkness.

Her eyes flew open. She saw her second brother, Nehemiah McCarthy, standing at the edge of the rink.

And her fourth brother, Miguel McCarthy, holding Lucia in his arms.

Her heart felt like it was being crushed in a giant fist. She couldn't breathe.

Wasn't she dead? Hadn't she died in that psychiatric hospital? How was she back three years ago—the day the McCarthy family officially adopted Lucia as their daughter?

In her past life, on this very day, Lucia had deliberately let go during a pairs skating lift, making everyone believe Nayeli had dropped her on purpose.

Miguel had been the first to rush over—but only to check on Lucia. He hadn't spared a glance at Nayeli, bleeding out on the ice.

Nehemiah had stood there coldly, demanding to know why she was so vicious, ordering her to kneel and apologize to Lucia.

When she refused, they left her lying there on the ice. Her blood had stained it red.

"Someone like you doesn't deserve to be our sister! How did Mom and Dad ever give birth to something as twisted as you? The McCarthy family should never have brought you back!"

Miguel's cold, malicious words echoed in her ears again, snapping Nayeli out of her thoughts.

Lucia nestled against him, her eyes red-rimmed, her voice soft and trembling. "Miguel, don't blame her. It's all my fault. I took her place—of course she hates me..."

"Why the hell should she hate you? What happened back then wasn't your fault! But her? Who knows what kind of trash she picked up out there!"

Miguel snarled. "Nayeli, let me make this clear—you don't deserve to be part of the McCarthy family! Lucia is our real sister!"

Nayeli lay on the ice, listening to the exact same words from her past life.

And then she laughed.

It was a soft laugh, but in the empty rink, it rang out clear as a bell.

Nehemiah frowned. "What are you laughing at?"

Nayeli didn't answer. She slowly pushed herself up off the ice.

The wound on her knee tore open as she moved. Blood streamed down her shin.

The pain turned her lips white, but she bit down hard and didn't make a sound.

"I'm laughing because you're all complete idiots—treating a fake like she's some kind of treasure!"

"Nayeli!" Miguel roared. "Say that again!"

Nayeli ignored him. She turned and limped toward the edge of the rink.

"Stop right there!" Miguel bellowed behind her.