The Spare Daughter

My husband, Callum, had threatened me with divorce more times than I could count, always to guilt me into sacrificing myself for my sister, Sloane.

My parents did their part, too. Give Sloane the good stuff, they'd say, or get cut out of the will.

In the past, I would have cried and made a scene.

But the hundredth time Callum waved divorce in my face and ordered me to test drugs for my sister, I said yes.

I even went out of my way to be kind to Sloane. Everyone said I'd finally grown up.

None of them knew I was dying, or that none of it mattered to me anymore.

The day I was diagnosed with cancer, Callum slid the divorce papers across the table at me. Again. For the hundredth time.

"Willa, Sloane's getting worse. She can't keep doing the drug trials. If we can't get this medication developed within a month, she could die. You two are twins, so your genes are close enough. The doctor says you can take her place. If you won't, then we're getting a divorce. Sloane doesn't have long, and she asked me to help with her last wish."

I sat there and listened. He said every word with a perfectly straight face.

Swapping one twin in for the other halfway through a trial. That was the kind of thing only a private clinic would ever dare to do. Nobody in my family seemed to notice, or care.

When this all started, Sloane would come home from treatment drenched in sweat, and suddenly everyone wanted me to take her place in the trials. Mom, Dad, and Callum took turns working on me. "Working on" was generous. It was closer to threats.

Mom and Dad said I'd be written out of the family trust if I refused. Callum had floated divorce close to a hundred times.

I didn't know I was sick back then. I only knew my body was getting weaker, so I said no. The second I did, the whole room filled with disappointment. Heartless, they called me. Childish.

"Your sister is dying! One small favor, and she could live. How can you say no?"

"Exactly! Sloane's been on the trials for half a year. You'd only have to finish the last few months, and you won't even do that? I'm so disappointed in you. If you won't save your sister, fine. We'll pretend we never had a daughter like you!"

Those words still cut deep, even now. But that was all behind me. I was dying, and none of it mattered.

Whether I died at home or on a testing table, what was the difference? Nobody would care either way.

Callum's frown deepened, like he was about to start in on me again. I smiled at him instead. "Okay. I'll do the trials for Sloane."

He froze. Then his head snapped up, surprise and joy all over his face. "Really? That's amazing! Sloane's finally going to be okay!"

He practically ran out to the balcony to call my parents with the good news.

I watched his happy silhouette and smiled bitterly at myself. Then my eyes landed on the divorce papers. I picked them up, pulled a pen out of my bag, and signed the petition without a second thought.

When Callum came back in, I was just setting the papers down.

He stopped. "What are you doing?"

I smiled. "Nothing."

He saw how low I looked, and a flicker of regret crossed his face. He grabbed the papers and shoved them into his bag. "I was kidding. I'm not going to divorce you."

I hummed something that passed for okay. My face gave nothing away. He studied me for a second, then let it go.

On the drive home, he suddenly turned attentive. He asked what I needed, then pulled over to buy me a whole bag of health supplements.

But all that concern was probably just about getting my body in shape for the trials.

I tossed the bag in the back seat and stared out the window. The sun was bright. I wouldn't get to see it much longer.

We hadn't even made it through the front door when I heard my parents' excited voices. Mom had Sloane in her arms, crying. "Sloane, you're saved! You're not going anywhere…"

Dad, afraid I'd change my mind, shoved a test subject consent form into my hand the second I walked in. Only after they watched me sign it did they relax and smile.

"Willa, you've finally grown up. You're finally thinking about your sister and this family. Don't hold this against us. Your birth was so hard that Sloane came out sickly. Next to you, she needs us more.

"But we won't shortchange you. The family money gets split evenly between you and your sister. You won't get a cent less."

I shook my head, swallowing the bitterness.

"Give it all to Sloane. I won't be needing any of it."