Chapter 3

Down in the cellar, I tried to save myself. But I couldn't climb out. My ankle was almost certainly broken, and without a drop of food, hypothermia slowly set in.

In the end, I breathed my last right there.

During those three days, Dad had gone off on a fishing trip with his buddies, while Mom took Zack to an amusement park to have fun.

"Mom, maybe we should head home and check on Cody," Zack's voice pulled me sharply from my racing thoughts. "I'm worried he might hold a grudge against me over this. After all, we're brothers. I really don't want something so small to drive a wedge between us."

A bitter laugh caught in my throat.

If Zack truly cared about me, he would have stepped up to explain things when Mom was ripping into me. He would have begged her to stop when she threw me down that hole. After all, he knew better than anyone that Mom listened to every single word he said.

Yet, he hadn't lifted a finger.

And now, on the surface, he sounded like he was pleading for me. In reality, he was just using the opportunity to drop subtle hints to Mom that I was petty, vindictive, and held grudges.

Mom rolled her eyes, her face twisted in utter disgust the second my name came up.

"He wouldn't dare! He's your big brother. It's his job to protect you for the rest of his life! What right does he have to hold a grudge against you? If he dares to hold resentment toward you, just watch me break his legs!"

I let out a bitter laugh, though tears had somehow begun to sting the corners of my eyes.

She wouldn't need to break my legs herself; my ankle was already broken. In fact, she would never get the chance to snap my legs ever again.

Mom and Zack finally arrived back at their hotel. As usual, she pulled Zack into her arms, gently patting his back while reading him a bedtime story.

I remembered it so vividly. Ever since Zack was born, Mom had always held him like that. It started from when he was a baby, through kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, and right up until now.

Meanwhile, I was always the one standing just outside Zack's bedroom door, like a pathetic rat lurking in the shadows to catch a fleeting glimpse of someone else's happiness. Before Zack was born, that brief gentleness had once belonged to me, too.

It was fleeting, but it occupied such a massive, precious corner in the dark, lonely timeline of my life. Every time Mom and Dad treated me unfairly, I would pull that memory out from the back of my mind just to tell myself proudly: 'See? They loved me once, too.'

Sadly, I had only ever been loved for a tiny, temporary moment.

"Alright, sweetie. I'm going to head over to my room now," Mom murmured softly. Her tone was dripping with tenderness, as if a single harsh word might shatter a fragile porcelain doll.

Zack was her sweetie. But whenever my parents called out to me, it was always my full name—cold and transactional. Even the contact names on their phones reflected it.

Every time I accidentally caught a glimpse of Zack saved as "sweetie" while I was just "Cody Morrison", my heart would ache.

The moment Mom shut the door behind her, Zack bolted upright in bed. He pulled out his phone, the pale screen casting an eerie glow across his face.

I couldn't see who he was texting, but then I heard him send a voice message, his tone practically bursting with arrogant pride.

"You mean Cody? That good-for-nothing is probably dead by now. It's twenty below zero out there, and he's been locked up for days. How could he possibly be alive?

"I've hated his guts for a long time. Just thinking about splitting half the family estate with him in the future makes my skin crawl.

"Damn right, I wanted him dead! He actually thought he could steal Mom and Dad's love from me? Thought he could touch the inheritance that belongs to me? In his dreams!"

A chill ran down my spine. I never dreamed that Zack had done all of this on purpose, and my death was entirely within his calculations.

That meant his little show on the road earlier, asking Mom to let me out, was nothing more than a calculated act, knowing full well my time was already up.

And the reason he wanted me dead was so ridiculously simple. He knew all along how blatantly Mom and Dad favored him, so why would they have ever given me their love or a single penny of their money? In their minds, even after I entered the workforce, my hard-earned savings were meant to be handed over to Zack on a silver platter.

I burst into wild, uncontrollable laughter. I lunged forward with everything I had, desperate to drive a fist straight into Zack's face.

My fist passed right through his cheek, striking nothing but air.

I was so blinded by rage I'd forgotten I was just a ghost and couldn't do a thing.

Why was life so cruel? Why was I forced into a family like this, only to find out the brutal truth after I had already turned into a ghost?