CHAPTER 26: GIVE UP YOUR LIFE FOR YOUR SISTER

Eleanor’s POV

The voice in my head, which had been a storm of anger, went utterly, terrifyingly calm.

Unbelievable.

I couldn’t breathe. The walls of the opulent living room seemed to be closing in. My eyes snapped to Dickson. He just smiled back at me, a small, tight smile that didn’t reach his cold eyes. A silent confirmation.

"She knows", He remarked. "She’s just nervous."

But I didn’t know. I didn’t.

I stood up. The movement was jerky. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. "I... I didn’t sign up for this," I whispered, the words barely audible.

Dickson let out a short, cutting laugh. "Eleanor, sit down. What are you doing?"

The voice in my head was razor-sharp with clarity. Why would you give yourself to these people? They are vipers. They have never loved you. They have only ever sought to break you. Do not be the fool they believe you to be.

They thought I was that dumb. That I would willingly walk into this house and offer up my organs for their precious daughter, for the family that had never once treated me as their own.

"No."

The word was a silent breath in my mind.

"What did you say?" my father barked, his earlier faux-softness gone.

"I said no." I turned my back on them. I walked away, ignoring the outraged sputters and scolding voices that erupted behind me. This was why I left. This was why I should never have come back.

I was almost to the foyer when a hand clamped around my arm like a vice, yanking me to a stop. I was spun around to face a livid Dickson, his ugly features twisted with fury

"What the fuck was that?" he snarled, his voice low and venomous so the others wouldn’t hear. "Why would you say that?"

The fear for Mira was still there, a cold knot in my stomach, but it was now eclipsed by a hotter, brighter anger. "Why did you tell them I agreed to that?" I shot back, my voice trembling not with fear, but with rage. "You had no right! You can’t just volunteer my body parts without asking me!"

For a second, he looked genuinely shocked that I was talking back. Then his expression darkened even further.

"What gave you the right to talk to me like that?" Dickson hissed, his grip on my arm tightening painfully.

A surge of defiance, fueled by a lifetime of being silenced, made me snap back. "What gave you the right to sell my body without my permission?"

His eyes widened in feigned outrage. "I’m not selling you! I’m asking you to be selfless! To make a sacrifice for your sister! Why are you so selfish, Eleanor? You have the privilege of a healthy life, and your sister, a far better person than you, is suffering! How can you be so cruel?"

The audacity of it stole my breath. "Priscilla isn’t sick!" The words burst out of me, a truth I’d felt in my bones for years. "She doesn’t have some incurable illness! She’s never been sick a day in her life!"

His face contorted into a mask of disgust. "So now you’ll lie? You’ll stand there and lie to try and justify letting your sister die? You are ruthless. You are wicked." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a hateful whisper. "If there was any justice in this world, you

would be the one who was sick. Priscilla should have your health. She deserves all the love she gets. And you... you deserve nothing."

Each word was a shard of glass, piercing the fragile hope I didn’t even know I still clung to. The heartbreak was a physical pain, sharp and debilitating. It wasn’t just his words; it was the crushing weight of never being believed. My truth was always dismissed as a lie; my pain was always an inconvenience.

Then, as quickly as the storm had erupted, it vanished. His expression smoothed over. He released my arm, his touch becoming gentle, almost caressing. He let out a sigh, the picture of a man pushed to his limit.

"I’m sorry," he said, his voice soft now, dripping with false remorse. "I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I just... I get so frustrated when I see you being like this." He cupped my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. "You know I’m going to marry you, right? You won’t be alone in this. You’ll always have me. Always. Just... just be considerate for once, my love. Do this for your family. For me."

He leaned in and pressed a cold, possessive kiss to my forehead. "I’ll start making the arrangements for the blood work and the compatibility tests for the kidney soon," he said, as if discussing a business merger. "I know you’re just sad because you feel like no one likes you. But you have to remember, I will always love you. It’s just that I have to be the one to tell you when you’re wrong. It’s for your own good."

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "If you want more from me, if you want the love you crave, you need to learn to be kind. Be selfless. Be more like your sister."

As if on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and held up a finger. "We’ll talk more about this later. For now, go back in there and apologize to your parents for your little outburst. Show them you can be the good daughter they need you to be."

He didn’t wait for a response. He turned away, answering the call with a smooth, "Dickson speaking," and walked off down the hall, leaving me standing alone in the empty foyer.

The voice in my head said, That is the most audacious thing I have ever witnessed. And all the audacity in this wretched world seems to originate from that same dull, entitled man.

I was still reeling from the whiplash of his cruelty and fake tenderness when a new, sickly-sweet voice cut through the silence.

"You are truly pathetic."

I turned. Priscilla stood there, leaning against the doorframe to the living room, her arms crossed. There was no trace of the weak, ailing sister now. Her eyes were sharp and full of malicious amusement.

"Are you still trying to cozy up to Dickson?" she asked mockingly. "Haven’t you figured it out yet? He has never, not for a single second, had any real feelings for you. You were always just... convenient." She let out a light, tinkling laugh that grated on my nerves.

"It’s honestly shameless. Do you really think giving me your blood is going to make him like you? That’s so sad."

Something in me, some last frayed thread of patience, snapped. I looked her dead in the eye.

"What makes you think I’m going to give you anything?" My voice was flat, colder than I thought I could manage.

Priscilla’s smug smile faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a flicker of genuine surprise. It was quickly masked by a condescending frown. "Oh, you will," she said, her confidence returning. "You’ll do it eventually. You always do what I want. You always have. Just like you used to give me your toys and your desserts, thinking it would make Mom and Dad love you. It never worked, and this won’t either. But you’ll still do it. Because you’re desperate for a scrap of affection, and I’m the one who controls it."

A vicious smile curled her lips. "And our engagement party is next month. It’s going to be spectacular. I’d love for you to be there." With a sharp, dismissive flick of her wrist, she slammed a thick, cream-colored invitation card directly into my chest. It fluttered to the floor between us.

I didn’t look down. "I’m not coming. And I’m not giving you a drop of my blood. We both know you’re not sick."

The crack of her hand against my cheek was instantaneous. The sting was sharp and humiliating. "You better watch your mouth, you little bitch," she hissed, all pretense of sweetness gone. "No one will ever believe your pathetic lies over my word. They never have. They never will."

Something inside me broke. Not with a whimper, but with a deafening snap.

The voice in my head roared.

Kill her. End the pathetic creature.

A violent tremor wracked my body. My hands twitched at my sides, my fingers curling into claws.

Priscilla took a step back, her eyes widening not in fear, but in derisive amusement. "Ew, what’s wrong with you? Having a seizure? How dramatic—"

The world dissolved into a red haze.

There was a sound—a sickening slam of a body hitting the wall. A shriek that was cut off into a choked gurgle.

The haze cleared as suddenly as it had come.

I was pressed against Priscilla, pinning her to the wall. My hands were wrapped around her throat, squeezing. Her feet dangled inches off the floor.

And her face... her face held an expression I had never seen directed at me in my entire life.

It was pure, unadulterated, primal fear. Her eyes were bulging, her mouth open in a silent scream as she clawed uselessly at my hands.