Chapter 1

Linnea's POV

Every time my husband’s adopted sister, Avey, had a tennis match, he would force a dark green concoction down my throat. As soon as it kicked in, my entire body would turn weak and aching.

He claimed it was a folk remedy, and I believed him.

In half a year, I lost twenty pounds, half my hair fell out, and I lost our four-month-old baby.

Until the night I overheard them whispering behind a cracked door—they had sought out a witch and cast a dark curse.

My forced standstill was the price for her endless stamina. All her fatigue and sports injuries were being directly transferred to me.

Late that night, listening to them plot to drain the life out of me, I made a choice. On the very night Avey won her championship, I climbed into a deep hibernation pod. I traded thirty days of absolute physical stasis to ensure she could never stop.

—

"I’m not drinking it, Soren. It's disgusting. Every time you force this down, my body goes limp and my very bones ache," I said, turning my face away and shoving his hand hard.

Holding the glass of murky green liquid, a flash of naked impatience crossed Soren’s eyes. A second later, he grabbed my chin, his grip so vicious he nearly crushed my jaw.

He dropped his voice, shedding his gentle facade entirely. "Be a good girl and drink it. It's better for everyone."

Six months ago, I fell under a mysterious illness. From then on, whenever his precious adopted sister, Aveline, had a match, Soren would appear by my bed with this exact drink. If I resisted, he would pry my mouth open under the guise of "doing it for my own good."

"...Fine, let go." I feigned surrender, taking the glass from him. "I'm going to cut a slice of lemon to kill the bitter taste."

The moment he turned to grab his car keys, I darted to the kitchen, dumped the potion down the sink, and replaced it with a similar-looking vegetable juice. I chugged it down right in front of him.

Then, I slumped onto the couch, faking a helpless, paralyzed state.

"Good girl," Soren exhaled in relief, adjusting his tie while looking down at me. "Stay in bed. I’m going to cheer Avey on."

The front door locked shut.

I instantly sat up straight and turned on the TV.

The screen showed the live broadcast of the city’s tennis circuit semifinals. Thirty minutes into the match.

Without warning, an excruciating cramp seized my calf.

"Ah—!" A muffled groan escaped my lips as I tumbled off the couch onto the floor. Cold sweat instantly drenched my back.

As a former pro player, I knew this feeling of extreme physical burnout all too well. It was even worse than the exhaustion of sprinting back and forth on the court for two straight hours.

Biting my lip until it bled, I dragged myself up by the coffee table, my eyes glued to the broadcast.

The camera cut to Aveline.

It was a chilling contrast. She danced along the baseline with light, steady footwork, returning every shot with terrifying power. Beneath her flawless makeup, there wasn't a drop of sweat, let alone a hint of fatigue. Across the net, her tall, heavily-built opponent was already gasping for air, hands on her knees.

"My god, Aveline just hit her fifteenth Ace of the match!" the commentator roared. "She’s a monster who never gets tired! This is unbelievable!"

Before he even finished speaking, Aveline delivered a brutal overhead smash on screen. My right arm violently spasmed. The tearing agony sent me crashing hard against the floor, a metallic taste of blood rising in my throat.

With every step she took, every swing she made, the pain on my body multiplied.

An insane realization exploded in my mind: The twenty pounds I had rapidly lost, the clumps of hair falling out, my decaying health, and the unexpected miscarriage... None of this was some undiagnosable, rare disease!

"Game, set, match! Aveline Vane!"

The umpire's voice dragged me back to reality.

Aveline effortlessly won the semifinal, storming her way into the championship. Meanwhile, I lay paralyzed on my floor, in too much pain to even breathe.

"I have to thank my brother, Soren, and my parents for making this journey so smooth." On camera, Aveline smiled, a picture of innocent gratitude. "I can focus on competing because of their meticulous care day and night. At the finals, I promise to bring that championship trophy home."

Memories of past match days flooded my mind: Soren’s ridiculous excuses to keep me indoors; how he roughly shoved me back into bed every time I tried to get up; and that weird potion, delivered on the dot, that paralyzed me upon the first sip.

I dug my fingers into the carpet. My nails cracked, seeping blood.