Lesson for My Saint of a Sister

After our family went bankrupt under millions of dollars of debt, I risked my life to protect my little sister from the ruthless loan sharks. She, however, floated above the squalor—a saint who treated money like filth. I was beaten half to death trying to guard the last thousands of our savings. Once the money was secured, she handed every last dime to a pitiful distant uncle. I saved us from the goons with a smashed glass bottle, shielding her all the way to the police station. Instead of thanking me, she called me barbaric, insisting I should have sat them down for a civilized conversation. I toiled for months pulling three grueling shifts a day to settle our father’s debts, while she lounged at home basking in a peaceful domestic paradise, handing out charities when it pleased her. Then came the day I was framed for embezzling funds from my father’s friend’s company. I begged her to testify in court—to tell them it was a predatory scheme I was tricked into. But she simply looked down at me. “If you did nothing wrong, then you have nothing to fear. The law will grant you justice when the time is right.” Her pious refusal was my death sentence. Driven to the brink to repay the missing funds, I was cornered on the edge of a half-built construction. A shove sent me plunging down, my bones shattering on the cold concrete below. While I bled out on the ground, she was promptly adopted by our father’s friend, married off to a high-born heir, and crowned the darling of elite society—a pristine gem everyone adored. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the day the loan sharks kicked down our door.