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A Gift for My Brother's Eighteenth Birthday 8
Six months had passed.Ashford Group, crippled by its technological collapse, the stock crash, and the scandal of its chairman's arrest, officially filed for bankruptcy and restructuring.At trial, the terrace surveillance footage, the autopsy results, and Richard's own statements formed a complete chain of evidence.The cameras had clearly captured him seizing my neck in a rage and shoving me toward the damaged railing.He hadn't watched me fall.But when he committed that act of violence, he had never once considered what would happen to a girl standing on the edge of a terrace more than a hundred feet above the ground.The court ultimately convicted him of assault causing death and sentenced him to seven years in prison.I heard that on the day of sentencing, his hair had turned completely white.Even as he was led away, he kept repeating, "I didn't mean for her to die."I did it for her own good."Victoria and Ethan were another matter.After the estate was seized and auctioned off
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I didn't follow the police car.I stayed at the Ashford estate.Or rather, I stayed in my own memorial hall.Three days later, my funeral was held at the estate.Richard was under criminal investigation, Ashford Group's stock had tanked for days straight, and the entire business community was watching the family's downfall.The memorial hall was nearly empty.Aside from a handful of company executives who felt obligated to attend, almost no relatives showed up.At the center stood my black-and-white portrait.The photo had been taken when I was thirteen.Back then, I had been the Ashford family's shining treasure, my smile bright and carefree.Victoria wore black mourning clothes, her hair as dry and brittle as straw.In just three days, she seemed to have aged a decade.She knelt before the fireplace, feeding letter after letter she had written to me into the flames."Amelia, Mom got you new clothes."The pink dress you always loved."Mom will never say you look bad again."Mom had th
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Police sirens cut through the estate's silence.Several squad cars screeched to a halt outside the lawn.Leading them was Detective Harris, the same detective captain who had handled the kidnapping case five years ago.Detective Harris rushed into the backyard with the medical examiner.When he saw the impaled body, even this man, no stranger to death, felt his eyes sting.Of course he remembered me.Five years ago, he was the one who had carried me out of that dark, damp basement.Even though I was drenched in blood, I had still whispered while he held me, "Officer, is my brother safe?"The medical examiner set up a lift and carefully lowered my body from the statue, laying it flat on a white sheet."Victim is female. Preliminary estimate puts time of death at over ten hours ago."Cause of death is a penetrating chest wound from a high fall."Additionally, the victim shows signs of severe malnutrition."Her stomach contains nothing but water. No food residue whatsoever."Estimated bod
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The entire Ashford estate fell into a deathly silence.Nothing remained but the whisper of autumn wind through the leaves and the old gardener's uncontrollable retching."No."This can't be real."Victoria clung to the balcony railing.Her nails split and cracked from the force of her grip.Blood welled up, but she seemed to feel nothing, her eyes locked on the body in the fountain."That's not Amelia."Amelia was terrified of pain. She would never have jumped."That's not her!"She spun around and bolted downstairs without even putting on her shoes.Ethan had gone completely blank.He stared numbly at the balloon wedged between the statue's wings, the words from the diary echoing in his head.Ethan, this is the birthday gift your sister risked her life to make for you.Then he heard again the last words I had spoken as I shoved him into the dumpster five years ago, "Don't make a sound."Sis will come back for you.""Sis."His legs buckled and he dropped heavily to his knees.He tried
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Victoria picked up the metal box, weighing it in her hand, and her expression darkened immediately."Richard, look at this!"I knew she's been faking it all along."She supposedly can't even touch a glass, and now she's hiding a metal box in her room!"Who knows if there are razor blades or rope inside."She might be planning to threaten us with suicide again!"Richard walked over with a stony expression, staring at the combination lock on the box."She's gotten completely out of control."Break it open!"A bodyguard raised his sledgehammer.One thundering blow and the lock was smashed apart.But inside the box, there were no self-harm tools as they had imagined.The box held only three things.They were a diary covered in dried bloody handprints, a thick stack of documents, and a small flash drive.Ethan wandered over out of curiosity and casually pulled out the documents.One look, and the impatience on his face froze solid."What is this?"This is impossible!"His voice cracked, and
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The next morning, the sky hung gray and heavy.In the first-floor dining room, the long table was laid with a lavish breakfast spread.Black truffle omelets, creamy seafood chowder, French foie gras roulades, and freshly baked croissants.My soul hovered beside the table, staring hungrily at all that food.I hadn't eaten a proper meal in five full years.Early in my illness, my mother had taught herself to cook nutritious meals, coaxing me to eat one spoonful at a time.But later, when they grew tired of me vomiting on the carpet, they decided that "a bland diet is better for the nerves" and had the maid bring me nothing but a bowl of plain, unseasoned oatmeal each day.The truth was simpler: their patience had run out, and they didn't want to bother the chef with preparing anything special for me.Ethan, wearing a brand-new jacket, sat shoveling croissants into his mouth."Mom, Dad said I could pick a sports car from the garage and take it for a spin today."Jessica's waiting for me."
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