Chapter 1

The phone’s camera flash went off right in my face. My brother, Elliot Hart, held his phone up, the lens so close to my face that it was practically poking me in the eye.

"Look, guys. Check out how pale Harry is. This is priceless! He was so scared that he couldn't even talk. He just kept backing away."

My sister, Diane Hart, tossed a plastic machete onto the table and wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Harry, you're such a coward. Couldn't you tell it was a prop? And you really thought I owed $450,000?"

I stood frozen. It felt as though someone had stuffed a pile of burning coals into my stomach. The agony was spreading upward through my chest.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat felt as if it had been scraped raw with sandpaper. I couldn't make a sound.

Dad got up from the floor and dusted off his pants. He shot me an annoyed look.

"Stop with the long face. Elliot's channel is one viral video away from landing sponsorship deals. There's nothing wrong with the family helping him pull off a prank. It's a holiday weekend. Who are you sulking for?"

My fiancée, Emily Rockwell, took my hand.

"Harry, are you really upset? I pushed you forward because it was part of the . Elliot said the sense of betrayal would get people talking online. I'm your fiancée. How could I ever actually send you away like that?"

She smiled warmly and openly, as though the woman who had coldly told me not to be selfish just moments ago had never existed.

I pulled my hand away. The violent churning in my stomach made it difficult to stay on my feet. I grabbed the doorframe behind me, my fingernails digging deep into the wood.

25 years of family and seven years of love were nothing compared to clicks and views on a viral video.

I swallowed the metallic taste rising into my mouth and forced my trembling body under control.

"Are you done filming?"

My voice was terrifyingly hoarse, like air wheezing through broken bellows.

Emily frowned. "What's wrong with your voice? Have you actually been scared speechless?"

Immediately, Elliot pointed the camera at my face. "Whoa! He actually lost his voice. Guys, this is what you call an immersive prank. Harry, say something else. This is gold."

I turned away from the lens and said, "I'm tired. I want to sit down for a while."

Dad's expression darkened.

"You're not sitting anywhere. We've all been up half the night to keep this a secret from you. We haven't even had dinner yet. There's still a fish in the kitchen that needs grilling. Go finish it. Elliot's heart condition makes it hard for him to stay up late. We should eat so he can get some rest."

Diane chimed in, "Harry, stop being dramatic. It was just a prank. Why are you acting as if someone died? You're bumming everyone out."

I looked at her self-righteous expression.

To put Diane through college, I'd dropped out of high school and gone to work in a manufacturing factory. Every month when I got paid, I'd kept just 200 dollars for myself and sent the rest to her.

And now, she thought I was being dramatic.

A wave of pain ripped through my abdomen. I doubled over, clutching my stomach as large beads of cold sweat splattered onto the tile floor.

Emily reached out to grab me. "Harry, are you seriously pretending to have a stomachache now? I already apologized. How long are you going to keep this up?"

I lifted my head and looked at her. My face was deathly pale as I said weakly, "I'm not pretending."

Dad let out a cold snort and turned toward the dining table.

"Let him be. He's been pulling this fake-sick trick for sympathy ever since he was a kid. Let him hurt. I want to see how long he can keep the act up."