Chapter 3

The very next day, I pushed Arthur’s wheelchair into the consultation room for his follow-up. 

His attending physician practically sprinted toward us, eyes gleaming with rehearsed excitement. "Miss Hale, incredible news! A private research institute in the UK just rolled out a miraculous targeted therapy for ALS. The clinical trials are flawless. They’re only recruiting two test subjects globally, and I’ve managed to secure a spot for your brother!"

Compared to his theatrical enthusiasm, I merely offered a calm, hollow nod. "What are the chances of a full recovery?"

"Eighty percent."

Right on cue, Arthur choked back a sob, playing the role of the desperate, grateful patient to perfection. "Evelyn... I’m going to get better. I can stay by your side forever now."

I forced the corners of my cracked lips upward, squeezing out a smile. "Arthur, if only one of us could survive this life... no matter what happens, I would always want that person to be you."

Arthur froze. 

The heavy, sorrowful facade cracked. Perhaps startled by the dead, absolute seriousness in my eyes, he completely forgot to slur his words. The trembling weakness in his jaw vanished. 

"Don't talk nonsense," he snapped, his brow furrowing with that familiar, commanding WASP-elite arrogance. Then, realizing his slip, he quickly softened his tone. "We are both going to live long, healthy lives. Once I recover, I’ll rebuild the Hale Group. You will always be the little princess of the Hale family."

Princess. 

My chest tightened with a silent, suffocating laugh. I don’t want to be a princess anymore. And I don’t want you anymore, Arthur. I’m leaving it all to Lily.

The doctor abruptly cleared his throat, using the excuse of a "lengthy, specialized examination" to usher me out of the office. 

The door clicked shut behind me. I didn't sit in the waiting area. Instead, I dragged my aching, joint-inflamed legs to the end of the empty corridor, standing in the shadows by the floor-to-ceiling window. 

Five minutes later, I looked down. 

There was brother Arthur. He walked out of the clinic’s private side entrance—his back straight, his stride confident and brisk. He didn't even glance back as he stepped into the sleek, black Maybach that had been waiting for him all morning. 

The taillights bled into the Boston traffic, taking the last five years of my agonizing sacrifices with them. 

I numbly withdrew my gaze. The cold glass chilled my forehead. Turning around, I let the sterile fluorescent lights guide me down another hallway, pushing open the door to the Immunology Department. 

Dr. Reynolds looked up from my charts. The exhaustion in his eyes mirrored my own. 

"Evelyn," he said, his voice breaking. "Your kidneys are in full failure. The lupus nephritis has completely ravaged your system. If you had just done the surgery half a month ago, instead of giving that money away... there was still hope."

He took off his glasses, rubbing his face in defeat. "It’s only a matter of days now. Maybe two. Go home. Say goodbye to your family."

The silence in the room stretched out, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the ticking of the wall clock. 

Finally, I nodded slowly, my voice barely above a whisper. 

"Dr. Reynolds... when I die, please don't hold a funeral. Just cremate me directly." I looked up, meeting his tear-filled eyes with absolute clarity. "And send my ashes to the Hale family manor."

"Address it to the CEO of the Hale Group, Arthur Hale."

I walked out of the hospital into the biting Boston wind. My phone buzzed in my worn coat pocket. 

A text from Lily. 

Come by the Manor tonight. You really need to see this. 

The Manor. The sprawling estate Arthur told me was auctioned off five years ago to pay our bankrupt family’s debts. 

I hailed a cab. I didn't care about the cost anymore. 

When the cab pulled up to the gates of the Upper East Side estate, my breath hitched. The house wasn't abandoned. It wasn't owned by strangers. 

It was lit up like a beacon. Valets were parking Porsches and Bentleys. Music drifted over the manicured lawns. 

I slipped through the side gate, hiding in the shadows of the rose garden I used to tend with my mother. Through the massive glass French doors, I saw the grand hall. 

It was a party. A massive, disgustingly expensive birthday party. 

Standing in the center of the room, next to a six-tier cake, was Lily. She was wearing a custom haute couture gown and a literal diamond tiara. She looked perfectly healthy. No sign of the crippling anxiety she claimed kept her bedridden for years. 

Standing right beside her, wearing a sharp tuxedo and looking at her with absolute adoration, was Arthur. 

I stood in the freezing cold, shivering in my cheap, threadbare coat, watching my brother tap his champagne glass. The room went quiet. 

"Five years ago," Arthur’s voice echoed through the open doors, smooth and charming. "Our family went through a transition. But through it all, Lily stayed by my side. She showed true resilience. True class."

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. My heart stopped. 

He opened it, taking out the Hale family heirloom—a massive, flawless blue sapphire necklace. The one Arthur told me he sold to keep us from sleeping on the streets. The one that belonged to my mother. 

Arthur fastened it around Lily’s neck. He kissed her forehead. 

"Happy birthday, Lily," he said into the microphone. "My only princess. Your wish came true."

The crowd applauded. Lily beamed, touching the sapphire. 

My phone buzzed violently in my hand. 

I looked down. Three new texts from Lily. 

I saw you hiding in the corner at the club the other night. Nice uniform. You looked like trash.

The necklace is mine. Arthur is mine. The Hale family is mine. 

Oh, by the way... I left a little birthday gift for you at your apartment. Go back and enjoy it. 

I stared at the screen. The screen blurred as a drop of blood fell onto the glass. I wiped my nose. It was bleeding again. 

I pocketed the phone, turned my back on the glittering mansion, and walked into the dark.