Sold-Out Sister: My Brother Died for Me

Before I turn eight, I am the most spoiled little princess in our family. I love beautiful shoes, so my parents buy me the crystal heels that are the highlight of an auction. When I want to learn the piano, they hire the most talented virtuoso to be my teacher. Mom and Dad love me, and my older brother, Asher Sullivan, dotes on me, too. However, everything changes the year I turn eight, when Asher is killed by human traffickers while trying to save me. From that moment on, I'm branded as the sinner of the family. Mom and Dad forbid me from sleeping in my own room. Every single night, they make me kneel in Asher's room to repent for my sins. Every year on the anniversary of Asher's death, Mom and Dad whip my mouth with the soles of their shoes to make me remember the grave mistake I committed. Later on, Mom and Dad adopt a boy named Archer Sullivan, who's a carbon copy of Asher, and have him punish me in Asher's place. After nearly five years of torment, when I'm at death's door, a voice suddenly breaks the silence. "I didn't give my life to save you just so you could let them treat you like a punching bag, you idiot!" Chapter 1 When my parents, Isaac Sullivan and Diana Wells, returned, I, Phoebe Sullivan, was crouching next to the trash, digging for something to eat. I was incredibly weak and skinny from years of constant starvation. I reached up and brushed away the hair that was blocking my view, revealing the face I had kept hidden beneath my unkempt bangs. The moment they laid eyes on me, Mom and Dad froze. I knew that I had reminded them of my older brother, Asher Sullivan. After all, my features bore a striking resemblance to his. When I was eight, I bugged Asher until he agreed to take me out for bubble tea. He had always spoiled me rotten. Hence, we left home in high spirits, discussing what flavors we wanted to drink in a moment. As we reached an intersection, a van suddenly sped toward us. The very next second, two men jumped out, grabbed me, and tried to stuff me into the vehicle. Asher refused to let go of me, and he fought back with everything he had. To save me, 13-year-old Asher took on the two grown men by himself. Amidst the chaos, he shoved me away, giving me a chance to flee. Even after I ran all the way home screaming for Mom and Dad, the last thing Asher ever said to me kept echoing in my head. "Pheebs, run! Don't worry about me and just run! Don't look back..." … With a loud crash, the trash can in front of me was kicked over. I lost my balance, fell to the ground, and accidentally brushed against someone's shoe. I looked up and realized that the person who had kicked the trash can was the young man Mom and Dad had adopted four years ago. His name was Archer Sullivan, and his features bore an even stronger resemblance to Asher's than mine did. In fact, Mom and Dad had adopted him for that very reason. Archer barked, "Are you blind? You dirtied my limited-edition sneakers!" When he glared down at me, it felt as though Asher had come back to life, and he was angry because I was being a picky eater again. I instinctively murmured, "I'm sorry, Asher. It's all my fault. I won't be a glutton anymore, and I'll never drink bubble tea again!" Seemingly realizing that I was treating him as Asher's substitute, a flash of resentment shot through Archer's eyes. He was acutely aware that in this household, he was merely Asher's replacement. He loathed that identity more than anything. Yet, to stay under this roof—and more importantly, to earn Mom and Dad's affection—he had no choice but to imitate Asher in every way he could. "Phoebe, what did I ever do to you? Why did you have to ruin the birthday present Mom and Dad bought me? This is my favorite gift!" He barked so loudly that he immediately drew Mom and Dad downstairs. Instinctively, I recoiled into the corner and wrapped my arms around myself as tightly as I could. I knew what was coming. Within 60 seconds, I would receive my daily thrashing. "I know you don't like me and think I took Asher's place, but you shouldn't ruin the gift Mom and Dad gave me!" Chapter 2 Defenseless against Archer's fabricated lies, I could only lower my head and tremble. By the time Mom and Dad rushed over and stood before me, they were already wielding their respective weapons. "How dare you bring up your brother, you jinx!" "Archer is your brother. You owe your brother so much. You'll never be able to repay him in this lifetime!" Before I could make a sound, Dad kicked me squarely in the chest. "Why weren't you the one who died? Why don't you just drop dead, you jinx?" I desperately wanted to argue back, yet I couldn't find a single word to say in my defense. I, too, was consumed by regret. Why wasn't I the one who died that day? Why did I leave Asher behind and run home all by myself? I was a piece of trash who didn't deserve to live. I actually hoped Dad would strike me even harder. It would be great if he could beat the life out of me. Then, I could finally be with Asher again. I would never have to carry the burden of Asher's life on my shoulders again, dragging out this pathetic, miserable existence. Mom and Dad beat me until the clothes hangers in their hands bent and snapped, and the leather whip broke apart. I was left lying in the foul-smelling, filthy basement, where a sliver of light seeped in through the ventilation window above me, casting a dim glow on a recordable teddy bear. If I squeezed its belly, Asher's voice would play. "My baby sister mustn't be a picky eater. You need to eat properly so you can grow up big and tall!" Unfortunately, the bear had died a long time ago, just like Asher, who was no longer by my side. … The following day was Archer's birthday. To be precise, it was Asher's birthday. To please Mom and Dad, Archer had completely embraced his role as Asher's shadow. Our family villa was massive, and the birthday banquet was grand and lavish, yet there was no place for me. I squatted beside the bathroom, slowly wiping away the water stains on the floor with a rag. "Check out these kicks. Cobe player exclusives, the only pair in the world." I lifted my gaze and found Archer holding court with a bunch of rich kids nearby. He was practically glowing with vanity as he showed off his sneakers. That pair of shoes had gotten me beaten for a solid hour yesterday. However, I didn't care about that. The only thing that caught my attention was the name of the basketball player he'd just mentioned. Ever since he was a young boy, Asher's greatest passion was basketball, and he revered Cobe like a God. Back then, he would show off his shooting skills to me in the backyard, which had been converted into a basketball court. For every shot he made, he made me agree to one condition. Out of ten shots, he had made seven. "My baby sister needs to grow up healthy and strong. "My baby sister needs to be happy every single day. "My baby sister needs to live a long, peaceful life. "My baby sister…" I had refused to accept defeat. After missing 20 shots, I finally scored one while sitting on Asher's shoulders. "I want you to promise me one thing, too, Asher. I want you to stay by my side forever, and I hope you get to meet your idol as soon as possible!" Sadly, Cobe had met a tragic end, and Asher was no longer here. Perhaps, at that moment, Asher had truly met his idol. I was still reminiscing about every little moment I shared with Asher. Perhaps that was the only thing that kept me alive. All of a sudden, a sneaker was thrust right in front of my face. "There's red wine on my kicks. Clean it up." The red wine sloshed in his glass. Even though his sneaker was already hovering right in front of me, a few stray drops still splashed down, landing on his shoe and my head. With red wine dripping down my face, I looked up and came face-to-face with Archer, who was wearing a smug look as he intentionally poured more red wine down. He didn't even like these kicks, yet he still chose to dirty them just to humiliate me. Chapter 3 Archer was trashing the very thing Asher had dreamed of owning but never could. My grip tightened around the rag until my knuckles turned white. I silently lowered my head, forcing myself to endure it. "Isn't this the jinx who killed the eldest son of the Sullivan family?" one of the scions behind Archer scoffed, gazing at me. "I can't believe the Sullivans are still keeping her around." Of course Mom and Dad had to keep me around. If they kicked me out of the house, who else would they have left to torment? How else could they make me atone for Asher's death? "Are you deaf? Can't you hear me?" Archer abruptly brought his foot down onto the back of my hand, the heel of his expensive sneaker grinding mercilessly into my knuckles. An excruciating pain shot through every single cell in my body, and I could even hear the sound of my knuckle bones fracturing. "You're not my brother. What gives you the right to wear the shoes he never got to wear before he died? You don't even share the same blood as me! How dare you monopolize everything that belonged to Asher!" I snapped, unable to hold it in any longer. My outburst was cut short by his slap. "I'm the heir of the Sullivan family now, and I'll be the one inheriting the family business. You're nothing but a jinx. Do you actually think you're worthy of competing with me?" I was thrown to the ground by Archer like an unwanted rag. Just then, Dad walked over from a distance and kicked me hard in the head. "If you don't want to be here, crawl back to the basement. Don't make a damn scene in front of my guests." My head hit the ground hard from the impact. My body began to twitch uncontrollably, and my consciousness started to slip away. "I'm sorry, Asher. I don't want bubble tea anymore. Please don't leave me… I really can't hold on much longer…" I thought to myself before the darkness closed in. … I had no idea how I made it back to the basement. When I came to, a rat was gnawing on my fingernails. I wanted to reach out and stroke it, but it took fright and immediately scurried off into the shadows. "Would you look at that? Even a rat thinks I'm bad luck and doesn't want to be my friend," I mused. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I heard voices at the entrance of the basement. "It's the charm Mom and Dad went all the way to the church to get for my protection. It represents their love for me, and now it's suddenly gone missing. Could someone be jealous of the love I receive from them—" Before he could even finish his sentence, the basement door was violently kicked open. Several people barged in but were immediately driven back a few steps, gagging on the damp, stagnant odor of mold. Various pairs of shoes trampled over the floor, kicking up clouds of dust. Grimacing in disgust, they began tearing the place apart. Ultimately, among a pile of cluttered junk, they found a protection charm. The guests' murmurs crashed over me like a tidal wave. "I knew it! A leopard can't change its spots. The jinx of the Sullivan family is pure evil. Not only did she get her own biological brother killed, but she's now trying to steal her adopted brother's protective charm to get him killed too. Clearly, she wants to wipe out the Sullivans so she can hoard all of her family's inheritance for herself." "I heard the eldest son of the Sullivan family, who died, was incredibly close to her. What an idiot, letting himself be killed by the sister he doted on the most." Their venomous words ripped through me, and my eyes widened in rage. I tried to push myself up from the ground, intending to argue with them. I was no thief, and Asher certainly wasn't a fool. He was the best brother in the world. "If Phoebe likes it, why don't we just give it to her? It's normal for girls to like charms." Archer lowered his gaze. The look on his face bore a disturbing resemblance to how Asher used to look when he took the blame for my mistakes. Chapter 4 "Besides, these things originally belonged to Asher. If he were still here, he would probably have given it to Phoebe too." As soon as Archer's words fell, tears welled up in Dad's eyes. "Who does she think she is?" The very next second, a slap whipped across my face with a gust of wind. Dad's face contorted, making him look just like an evil spirit. He glared at me as if I was his mortal enemy he wanted to kill. "Ash should never have saved you, you ungrateful wretch! Why wasn't it you who died?" My vision went red as blood pooled in my ruptured eye. The crimson hue flooded my retina, and through the haze, I thought I saw 18-year-old Asher in bloodstained sneakers, shooting hoops in the yard. Slowly, I extended my hand. "Save me, Asher. Take me with you!" Seeing my reaction, Mom and Dad hurriedly turned around to look behind them. But how could Asher possibly be there? Assuming I was playing mind games, Dad swung his fist at my face once more. The harder he hit me, the more violently his fists trembled. Mom, who was beside him, lowered her head, as if she couldn't bring herself to watch anymore. For a fleeting moment, I thought I caught a flicker of heartache in Mom's and Dad's eyes. However, it was eclipsed by pure, unadulterated hate. In a heartbeat, grief, self-reproach, regret, and sorrow swirled in my heart. I was well aware that Asher, who had sacrificed his life to save me, would never have wished for me to go through this. Yet, I couldn't help but feel like I deserve punishment. It was less about enduring suffering and more about atonement. This self-inflicted suffering was the only thing that kept my overwhelming guilt from keeping me awake all night. … After that farce of a birthday banquet, I became completely invisible in my own home. Then came the day Archer beat everyone else back home. He was on the phone with someone. "I sold the sneakers for 500 thousand dollars. Then, I spent 300 dollars to have an exact replica made. Those idiots in the Sullivan family won't suspect a thing. "Don't sweat it. I've already swapped a bunch of the Sullivans' valuables for fakes and sold them off on the sly. The dead guy's things are worth the most; I made a fortune off them. Even if I do get caught, I'll just pin it all on that jinx!" Archer thought he was home alone, so he bragged to the person on the other end of the line without a care in the world. Little did he know, I was crouched in the corner of the kitchen. I had intended to sneak some food to quiet my growling stomach, but I ended up overhearing his secret. My mind spun with the words he had just uttered. "The dead guy's things are worth the most…" He had sold Asher's belongings, which were all he had left behind in this world. "How could you do this, Archer? Mom and Dad are so good to you! Why would you lie to them? Give me back my brother's belongings—" Just then, the front door swung open, and Mom and Dad walked in. Seeing me throw myself at Archer, they immediately demanded, "What do you think you're doing now, Phoebe?" Startled, I stumbled and almost lost my footing. "Mom, Dad, Archer sold—" Before I could finish speaking, Archer grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me backward. "How dare you frame me! Mom, Dad, Phoebe's been secretly stealing valuables from the house to sell them off! I caught her red-handed, so she tried to pin it on me. "When that didn't work, she tried to bolt. I feel so bad for you both. Phoebe, not only did you cause Asher's death, but you're now even eyeing the family's property!" After hearing that, the hatred in Mom's and Dad's eyes could no longer be concealed. Chapter 5 I was well aware that Mom and Dad weren't looking at me; they were looking at an enemy who had killed Asher and was now attempting to steal from them. Mom and Dad only needed a reason to vent their anger. Neither of them cared if Archer was telling the truth, nor did they give a damn if I was being framed. But I cared. Asher's death was indeed my fault. Mom and Dad could beat me and curse at me, and I'd take it, but they absolutely couldn't slander me. "It wasn't me! I didn't do it! It was Archer—" My attempt to defend myself only seemed to fan the flames of Dad's fury. He grabbed a wooden club and swung it at me. "Ash died saving you, yet you're stealing from your own family? We don't raise thieves in this house!" The moment Asher was mentioned, tears cascaded down my face. "I didn't do it! If Asher were still here, he would believe me!" God, what I'd give to have Asher back. If he were still here, I would undoubtedly be the happiest person on earth. He would take me out for delicious food and buy me my favorite toys. Most of all, he would protect me. He would lay down his life to shield me from even the slightest harm. But the more beautiful the fantasy, the harsher the reality. More often than not, I wished Asher hadn't saved me. He should've just let those human traffickers kidnap me. I'd probably be better off right now. "How dare you bring up your brother!" Blows rained down upon my body. Clenching my jaw, I took the beating without making a sound. Mom looked at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. "How could your worthless life ever compare to your brother's? You worthless piece of trash, you're nothing more than a plaything we created for Ash. If your brother hadn't pleaded with us for a younger sister when he was a child, we would never have brought you into this world!" As it turned out, Asher was the only one who had ever wanted me to come into this world. I had no idea I was merely a plaything for him. "You're right, you never should've had me. I, too, wish I could trade my life to bring Asher back..." Dad's hand froze in midair, as if I'd struck a chord. Archer hurriedly stepped forward. "Don't hit Phoebe anymore, Dad. It's all my fault. I'm her older brother, yet I didn't raise her right. If Asher were still here, Phoebe wouldn't have turned out like this." Dad, who had just been lost in thought, instantly snapped back to reality. His eyes went cold again. "It's not your fault, Archer. She was born evil. She already took Asher from us. I won't let her stay here and ruin your life, too!" With that, he raised his club again, beating me within an inch of my life. I curled into a ball on the floor, shielding my head, as pain pulsed through every single part of my body. The metallic tang of blood in my mouth intensified until I coughed up a mouthful of blood onto the floor. Eventually, I could no longer feel the pain. I noticed Archer flash me a triumphant smirk, as if he were gloating, "Once you die, everything in the Sullivan family will be mine!" But was I really about to die? As my mind started shutting down, I knew I was drifting off into a sleep from which I would never awaken. Right then, a young man who looked like a carbon copy of Asher suddenly pushed the front door open. "Pheebs…" It was that familiar voice, that familiar face. The wooden club clattered heavily onto the floor. Mom's and Dad's eyes widened in unison, freezing in disbelief. I stared blankly at him, and for the first time in five long years, a genuine smile broke across my face. "Asher... you're back!"