CHAPTER 2: Sisters and Secrets

Sabrina Brooks's POV

I leaned against the wall of the elevator as it ascended to my sister's ward in Saint Mercy Hospital. There were no words to describe how I felt. I was exhausted, bitter, and suffocated by a life I never chose. I was carrying too much on my shoulders, and it was slowly killing me. I couldn't even remember the last time I smiled. All I did was dance and entertain, pleasing everyone but myself.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding. I stepped out, hands buried in the pockets of my hoodie, head down so no one would notice my red, sleepless eyes. I hadn't rested at all. Last night, I had to entertain every high-paying VIP who had specifically requested me. Inside the ward, Ami lay still. My little sister. So small and pale, her fragile body wired to machines that did all the living for her. Just seven years old, and already fighting for her life. She didn't deserve any of this. Skye was at her side, curled up in a chair with her nose buried in a romance novel.

"Reading a novel at seven in the morning?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Skye looked up briefly. 

"The real world is trash, Sabrina. Fiction is where I go to breathe. I was born to be a Disney princess but ended up a high school dropout with a dying sister and parents who bailed."

"Hey. That's not fair to Ami."

"I'm not talking about her," she snapped. "I'm talking about Mom. The same woman who ran off with some gambling loser while we're here picking up the pieces." I sighed. That edge in Skye's voice never faded.

"Blaming her won't fix anything, Skye.”

"She left us just like Dad did. The only difference is that, at least, he drank enough to forget we existed. Mom remembered. She remembered and still chose to disappear. 

"Mum left when Ami's condition got worse. She said she couldn't handle it." My voice cracked as I spoke.

"Exactly. Mom chose herself. Meanwhile, you're out there dancing for dollar bills, and I'm stuck watching machines beep. This isn't a life, Sabrina."

"We do what we can," I said gently, walking over to Ami's side. "We survive. For her."

Skye stood, voice rising. "You survive for everyone. For Ami. For me. But who survives for you?" I didn't have an answer. She stepped closer, gripping my arm. 

"Let me help. I have a good body and a pretty face, just like you. Get me into the club. I want to dance. I want to make money for us." I pulled back, stunned. 

"Are you out of your mind? You're underage. I don't want this life for you. Do you think I enjoy men drooling over me? Grabbing at me like I'm some toy? This is survival, not glamour."

"My life is already miserable!" she cried. "I dropped out of school. I'm broke. I sit in this hospital every day, staring at a sister who hasn't opened her eyes in over a year. God, I feel so useless. Just let me do this!" Tears brimmed in her eyes, but I couldn't give in.

"No. I'm sorry. I'll talk to Bree. Maybe she can get you something at the supermarket." Her face twisted with anger.

 "I don't want to go back there. You remember what the manager did. He tried to molest me."

"I know, Skye. But this would be a different store."

She laughed bitterly. "Wow. Sister of the year. I see what this is. You're just like her. You don't want me to shine. You want me to be stuck. You want me to rot."

"Skye….." 

She stormed out before I could finish. I didn't chase her. She would often explode like that when she was overwhelmed. I'd learnt not to take it personally. I sat beside Ami and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. Her skin was cold, her body quiet. She hadn't opened her eyes in over a year. The doctors said time was running out. She's been on the transplant waiting list for over a year now, and there's still no match. But I'm not giving up. I can't. 

Every week, I spend over twenty-five thousand dollars just to keep her alive. I've gone hungry, worn cheap clothes, and lived off fumes to afford her care. The club gives me designer outfits to perform in, but I return every piece before sunrise. I don't own a single decent thing. Every penny I earn goes into Ami. It's draining me: my body, my mind, and my soul. But I'd do it again. A thousand times over, if it gave her even one more chance. My phone buzzed on the table. A headline flashed across the screen; it was a notification from my school’s gist corner.

Jace Harrington Fights Over a Stripper

I froze. 

Jace Harrington wasn't just a schoolmate. He was my classmate at Wexford Institute of Business and Arts. I was top of our class, but nobody cared. I was the scholarship girl. The girl with the cursed last name. Brooks. They said it was why everything in my life fell apart. And that theory? It started with Jace. He was the golden boy, filthy wealthy, arrogant, heir to the Harrington empire, and a national hockey star. He humiliated me in school for being poor. He treated me like dirt in the daylight. But last night at the club? He wanted me. He watched me like I was a drug he couldn't resist. All because I wore a mask.

I looked at Ami again. Silent. Still. So unlike the curious, bubbly girl she once was.

After what our father did to our family... after what men like him did to women like Mom... I promised myself I'd never fall for someone like Jace. While I was watching the video of Jace throwing a punch, my phone rang. It was Alice, my schoolmate and the Daughter of an oil tycoon. She only kept me close so she could pass her classes. She was ashamed of me in school and wouldn't say hi when Jace and the rest of his crew were around because she had a massive crush on him. And since Jace didn't like me, she didn't want him to see us together, thinking it would ruin her chances. 

"Hey, Alice," I said flatly.

"Hey, buddy! How are you?"

"Buddy? Since when do you call me that?"

She laughed. "Today's your lucky day. We've got that LAW220 test on Monday. Come study at my place. My chef's making steak and mashed potatoes. We'll have shots after."

"I can't. I'm at the hospital with my sister, Ami."

"Oh." A pause. "Whatever." She hung up. I stared at my phone. So typical. Why were rich kids always emotionally bankrupt? Then I saw Skye's phone buzzing on the couch. She'd forgotten it in her rage. I knew I shouldn't, but something told me to check. A message popped up on her screen from a contact saved as BAD.

Midnight. Back entrance. No mistakes this time. The vault is behind the emerald display. Skye, don't flake. We need that Diamond.

I froze!

Skye. My baby sister just joined a robbery gang? And tonight, they were hitting a jewellery store.