Chapter 2

The more Abby put on her act, the more Jessica felt an overwhelming sense of disgust.

Since childhood, Abby had mastered the art of appearing fragile, drawing sympathy from everyone around her. Every misfortune, every conflict, was inevitably laid at Jessica's feet. She was always portrayed as the villain—the heartless, unreasonable one who "apparently" bullied her weak older sister.

But who was truly bullying whom?

Who was the one in this house forced into insignificance? Who was the one constantly misunderstood and disregarded?

In the past, she had endured it all in silence. But not this time.

"That's right. Slap yourself harder. Make sure it stings," she said coldly. "After all, you were the one who smashed that cake onto your own face, only to turn around and pin the blame on me. With acting skills like yours, why not aim for an Oscar?"

Slap—

The sound rang clear in the air. A sharp pain exploded across her cheek.

Jack had struck her.

A metallic taste of blood filled her throat. She swallowed it down, standing still.

She looked at Jack—her fiancé she had been together with since high school.

For a long moment, she simply stared, her mind refusing to process what had just happened. He had hit her.

But…

Once upon a time, Jack had held her close and whispered, "Jess, whatever love you lacked in your family, I will make up for it."

And now?

He had raised his hand against her—for Abby.

Behind him, Abby let out a soft, insincere murmur. "Jack, how could you hit Jess? She's my little sister."

Their father's voice followed immediately after. "Jessica, open your eyes and see! Abby's still standing up for you despite everything. And what have you done to her?"

Pain coiled through her insides, twisting, tearing. Her gaze swept over the faces around her—her father, her sister, her fiancé.

It was always like this. Wherever Abby was, she was the sun, and everyone else merely revolved around her.

But it didn't matter.

Seven days. Seven more days, and everything would be over.

She was leaving. Leaving this wretched place. Leaving these people.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, another rush of nausea surged up her throat. She turned away swiftly, disappearing into her room before anyone could see.

Behind her, Abby continued crying, repeating the same old lines. "It's all my fault."

And the others? They did what they always did—blamed her.

In the bathroom, Jessica splashed cold water on her face. Then, gripping the sink, she coughed violently. Blood spilled from her lips.

It took several long moments before she felt steady enough to move. Reaching into her bag, she retrieved the last two pills she had left and swallowed them.

Tomorrow. She had to go to the hospital tomorrow to get more medication.

It had been two weeks since she had gone in for a check-up, two weeks since she had been told she had late-stage stomach cancer. A year, they had said. Give or take.

At first, she had refused to believe it. But eventually, she had come to accept it. Death was inevitable for everyone. Hers was just arriving earlier than expected.

She turned her attention to the suitcase lying open on her bed.

November. Paris would be cold. Temperatures ranged between 8 to 15 degrees Celsius, with frequent rain. She packed thick sweaters, coats, and scarves. Summer clothes, too—just in case. By the time she finished, her suitcase was stuffed to the brim.

Then, she opened her laptop and logged into the selling site, listing dozens of her design pieces for sale.

Her parents had never loved her as they did her sister. That much was clear. But at the very least, they had brought her into this world and raised her. That counted for something, she supposed.

250 thousand dollars. That would be her final repayment for all their years of upbringing, despite the neglect.

After everything was done, exhaustion swept over her. She was just about to sleep when her phone screen lit up.

It was a new post from Abby.

Nine photos—birthday cake, gifts, family, friends. A perfect tableau of happiness.

The caption read: [Thank you, Daddy, Mommy, and Jack, for all your love. Happy 23rd to me. Forever your little princess.]

Bitterness curled in her chest, but she forced it down.

And then, her phone rang. It was a video call request from Abby.

She hesitated, unwilling to answer. But then, a thought crossed her mind.

She pressed record, switched on the microphone, and picked up.

The moment the call connected, Abby's face filled the screen, smug and triumphant.

"You saw my post, didn't you?" she sneered. "I posted it just for you. Jess, you never should have been born. You can never win against me. And now, even the fiancé you painstakingly found is siding with me. That slap must've hurt, huh?"