I Died So You Could Finally See Me

Elara's POV

The day I get diagnosed with stage four lung cancer, I can finally stop selling plasma.

For five years, I thought I was paying for the fire that killed my parents and son, left my brother disabled. Selling plasma, joining drug trials, doing the worst jobs imaginable, all to pay back a debt that wasn't even real.

The doctor says I have a few weeks left. I clutch the diagnosis report and head home to tell them.

The moment I push open the door, I see my parents in the kitchen, the ones who supposedly died in the fire. My brother, who was supposed to be in a wheelchair, stands there raising a glass, laughing with my husband.

My brother shrugs like it's nothing. "The broken leg was fake the whole time. You were the only one hurt in the fire. We just wanted to teach you a lesson, make you appreciate things."

"We were going to tell you eventually." My husband pats my shoulder. "Go apologize to Vanessa. Stop giving her a hard time."

"All the money you gave went to Vanessa," Dad says. "That's what you get for throwing your bio-daughter status in her face."

I touch the diagnosis in my pocket. Everything was a lie. The only truth is that I'm dying.

Minutes ago I was planning how to tell them. Now I taste blood in my mouth and I bite down hard to keep from throwing up.

"Are you listening?" My husband Sebastian walks over when I don't respond. "Just apologize. We can move on, have more kids."

I laugh. The sound comes out strangled, tears streaming. "You think you get to talk about kids? Vanessa caused that fire. She killed my son."

Sebastian pauses, then taps his forehead. "Right, forgot to mention. The fire was staged. No one was actually inside. Just you running in like an idiot."

"Oliver's alive. I gave him to Vanessa to raise. Can't let you mess him up."

I freeze.

That night flashes back. I woke to screams, ran downstairs to smoke pouring up from below. I ran into those flames screaming for my parents, for newborn Oliver. The smoke swallowed everything. The last thing I remember is crawling toward Oliver's room before I collapsed.

When I woke up, the doctor said I had severe inhalation injury, massive lung damage. Sebastian, eyes red, told me my parents were dead. Oliver too. My brother Dominic had broken his leg, and it was my fault. If I hadn't fought with Vanessa that night, hadn't driven her to run away, he wouldn't have gone after her. They would have all been home when the fire started.

I carried that guilt for five years. Sold plasma, joined drug trials, washed dishes in restaurant kitchens until my fingers cracked and bled. Every degrading job I could find, trying to pay back a debt that was never real.

And now they tell me it was all fake.

"Why?" The word comes out hollow. "Why would you do this?"

Dominic frowns like I asked the stupidest question. "To teach you a lesson."

He walks over, looking down at me. "You weren't raised with us. You picked up bad habits. We brought you home to give you a good life, and you repaid us by making Vanessa miserable. We just wanted you to learn some gratitude, appreciate what you have."

"Vanessa's a victim too. She didn't do anything wrong. She's innocent. Why should she put up with your crap?"

"We're right, aren't we?" Sebastian adds. "Would you have changed otherwise?"

Innocent? Who the hell are they calling innocent?

Images flood my mind. That cramped attic, freezing in winter. My foster father's slaps, my foster mother's fists. "What are you eating? The dog's worth more than you." Cold voices telling me over and over I didn't deserve to live.

And Vanessa, their real daughter, wore my clothes, slept in my bed, was loved by my parents.

My hands shake as I pull up my shirt. The twisted scar on my stomach from the fire. The older scars on my arms and back from childhood.

"She's innocent? She's the victim?" I stare at them. "She lived my life for over a decade. Where's the innocence in that? You promised you'd make those kidnappers pay. You said you'd send them to prison. You said you remembered everything they did to me. But you..."

"Enough!" Dominic cuts me off with an impatient wave. "Your foster parents told us everything. No one abused you. You got those scars running around with the wrong crowd. Stop lying."

Mom chimes in, disgust clear in her voice. "See? This is exactly why we couldn't let her raise the child."

Dad nods. "Good thing we made that call when we did."

I stare at them, tasting blood. "I can't raise a child properly. But the woman who stole my life can?"

Dominic's expression darkens instantly.

"Shut up!" He strides over and grabs my arm, fingers digging in until my bones ache. "Do you know how much that would hurt Vanessa? You learned nothing in five years."

Sebastian stands, face cold. "I'm so disappointed in you."

Before I can say anything else, Dominic drags me toward the stairs.

"What are you doing? Let go!" I struggle, but my body is pathetically weak.

Dominic says nothing as he hauls me down. The basement door opens. Dark. Musty.

"You can come out when you've figured it out." Dominic releases me and shoves.

I stumble in and my knees hit the ground hard.

The heavy door slams shut. The last thing I see is Dominic's cold face.