The Day I Stopped Saving Her

My sister Brenda fell in love with Don Joseph Genovese because he saved her life once. She thought a man that dangerous had chosen her. Then she learned the truth. Joseph had only pulled her out of that riot because she looked like his wife, Maria, when Maria was young. Any sane woman would have walked away. Brenda decided Maria had to die. She tracked Maria’s schedule, planned a hit-and-run, and meant to play the heroic bystander after putting Joseph’s wife in the ground. If Maria was gone, Brenda believed she could take her place. In my first life, I stopped her. I knocked her out before she could make her move. I begged her to understand that Joseph was not some lovesick man from her mafia novels. He was a Don. If he found out, he would not just punish her. He would burn our whole family with her. Brenda cried. She nodded. She promised she understood. That night, she poured paraquat into my water glass. As I died, she whispered, “You ruined my shot at the big life, Sharon. So I ruined yours.” Then I opened my eyes again. I was back on the day she made her move. This time, I stayed where I was. Chapter 1 The crash hit before I could take another breath. Metal screamed. Glass exploded. And Brenda? She bolted toward the wreck. She dropped to her knees beside the body on the pavement, screaming over her shoulder, "Forget the damn car, call 911!" Her face was done up perfect, full glam, as she pumped the victim's chest, blood soaking into her expensive little top. Anyone watching would've called her a hero. The ambulance rolled up—and so did the press. She spun on the cameras, eyes blazing. "Are you people serious? You're filming right now? Get out of the way—she needs help!" Then she turned back to the paramedics, rattling off compression times like she'd been doing this her whole life, grabbing one by the arm. "Doc, you have to save her, please!" The medic nodded, caught up in her act. "We'll do everything we can. You know her family?" Brenda shook her head, all wide-eyed innocence. "I'm just a bystander. But I'll ride with you—I'll cover her hospital bills." The guy called her a saint, waved her into the ambulance. She climbed in—and the second nobody was looking, she palmed the victim's phone into her pocket. I watched the ambulance peel out. Waited a half hour. Then a black sedan rolled to a stop at the corner. Gray suit stepped out—familiar face. Joseph's underboss. He scanned the scene, jaw tight, then walked over to talk to the cops. I pulled out my phone and texted Brenda. [Saw you on TV. What the hell did you do?] She fired back fast: [None of your business.] I read those four words and smiled. Brenda'd read too many mafia romance novels. Thought every rich, handsome guy with power was stupid. When Joseph pulled her out of that riot, she fell hard. Started digging into him, picturing some epic love story with a Don. Then she ran into him again at the restaurant, went up to thank him—and found out the only reason he'd saved her was because she reminded him of Maria when she was young. And after that night, he never came back. So I figured she'd let the dream die. But no. She'd gone past dreaming—she was ready to erase Maria. Last life, I tried to talk her down. Told her she was playing with fire. And she put me in the ground for it. This time? I had to do things different. I was heading home when the hospital called. Said a patient needed blood—was I available? Brenda and I both had that rare type. They had our numbers on file. I didn't think twice. Went straight there. Turns out the patient was Joseph's wife. After they drew my blood, I walked into the waiting room. Brenda saw me and froze. "What are you doing here?" I sat down. "Heard somebody needed the type. Figured I'd help." I shot her a look. "What about you? How'd you end up at that scene?" Last time around, I'd warned her over and over—even told her I'd go to the cops if she went through with it. She must've been worried I'd catch on. "Just... happened to be passing by." I gave a little "hmm," leaned back, closed my eyes like I was resting. But Brenda couldn't help herself. She leaned in, smug as hell. "Sharon... you know that woman's Don Joseph's wife, right? He told me I look just like her when she was young. Once she's gone, I'm the next Mrs. Genovese." I couldn't help myself. "You read too many romance novels. You really think becoming a Donna's that easy?" Chapter 2 Brenda let out a scoff. "Please. You're just jealous you don't have a shot like I do." Just then, Joseph's voice echoed from outside. Brenda's eyes lit up like Christmas morning. She shot to her feet, already smoothing her dress, ready to go out there and make sure he saw her. She spun back and pointed a finger at me. "You—hide. Don't you dare screw this up for me." We were twins. Same face. She was terrified I'd step out and pull his attention away from her. But she was worrying over nothing. I had zero interest in the Don. If anything, I wanted to be as far from him as possible. She swayed her hips out the door, and a minute later I heard her laying it on thick for Joseph. That fake-sweet voice, dripping with concern, so cloying it'd make your teeth ache. I'd just given blood, and my body was running on empty. I curled up in a chair and let myself drift off. When I woke, the place was dead quiet. Checked the time. Time to head home. The elevator was taking forever, so I ducked into the stairwell. That's when I heard voices—Joseph and his underboss, just below me. "Don, we traced her phone. It was here at the hospital earlier—but it's moved now." I froze. Didn't even breathe. Neither of them noticed me. Joseph's voice dropped to ice. "Keep it off the books. No cops." "Maria would never go to a place like that. Something's off. And that Brenda girl—she was at the scene too damn fast. Start with her." A pause. Then Joseph's voice again, low and venomous: "If I find out who did this to Maria, I'm putting their whole family in the ground." Those words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I had to move. Now. This time, I was going to stop her. I ran home. The second I walked through the door, I heard Brenda laughing with Mom and Dad in the living room. Mom was fussing over her—all that money she'd dropped on the hospital bills, all that blood she'd donated—and had already stocked up on iron supplements for her. Brenda waved it off. "No risk, no reward. Paying that bill keeps me in Joseph's orbit." They launched into their usual fantasy—Brenda in the big house, dripping in diamonds, the don's wife. I stepped out from the hallway and pointed straight at Brenda. "You can't do this." The three of them went dead silent. I grabbed Brenda's arm, trying to pull her toward the door. "Come with me. Turn yourself in. Now. It's not too late." She shoved me off like I was dirt. "Have you lost your mind? My plan's flawless. No cameras. The car's already taken care of. As long as you keep your mouth shut, nobody's ever gonna know." I stared at her, jaw tight. "You think rich people are as stupid as you? There are witnesses. You called the press, for God's sake—you put yourself front and center. You're not clever, Brenda. You're an idiot!" She blinked, caught off guard for half a second—then the sneer came back. "Even if there are witnesses, nobody's gonna point at me. What's your problem, Sharon? Jealousy?" "Try self-preservation," I shot back. "You're gonna drag this whole family down with you. If you won't go to the cops, I will." I didn't even finish the sentence before a fist twisted in my hair. Dad yanked me backward and drove his foot into my leg. "No one's calling the cops!" I crumpled to my knees, the pain shooting through me—but he wasn't done. Two hard slaps cracked across my face. "Your sister's doing this for all of us, and you want to report her? I should've never brought you home. Never!" Brought me home? The words barely registered before his boot connected with my ribs again. Brenda stood there, arms crossed, watching with a cold little smile. "Hit her harder, Dad. Make sure she stays out of my way." Then her phone buzzed. Her face lit up like she'd won the lottery. "She's dead. Maria's dead. I have to get to the hospital—I have to be there for Joseph!" She flew upstairs, changed, reapplied her makeup, and came back down in stilettos, ready to play the grieving angel. She paused at the door and shot Mom and Dad a look. "Keep her locked down. Don't let her ruin this for me." Chapter 3 The next few days, I was locked in my room like a prisoner. The news of the Don's wife dying in a hit-and-run swept the internet. Joseph had put up a ten-million-dollar reward for any information on the driver. Comments flooded in: "This driver's got some serious balls. Hitting somebody that connected and thinking they can run? Rich guys like him find you like it's nothing." I just hummed under my breath. "They say this Joseph guy used to be a straight-up butcher. Went quiet after he met his wife. Now she's gone? Bet a whole lotta people are about to have a very bad time." Too bad the person about to have the worst time had no idea what was coming. The internet was split down the middle. Half of it was Joseph mourning his wife, dangling that ten-million-dollar reward. The other half was Brenda—her rescue act going viral. That shot of her in white, soaked in blood, kneeling over the body doing CPR—it got shared millions of times. They were calling her an angel. Then there was another clip: Brenda crying in the hospital hallway, telling reporters, "I'm so sorry I couldn't save her. I must not have tried hard enough." Behind her, Joseph was staring straight at her. Eyes unreadable. Complicated. Brenda posted that video to the family group chat. [Look at how he's looking at me. He's totally falling for me.] Mom and Dad piled on, agreeing. Three of them lost in their little fantasy about Brenda becoming the Donna. I sent one message: [He's definitely looking at you. Looks like he wants to kill you.] That set her off. She fired back screenshots—hundreds of messages between her and Joseph over the last few days. Her playing the comforting angel. Him responding, saying her words meant a lot to him. All of it dripping with that almost-intimate tone. She typed, smug as hell: [Still think he doesn't have feelings for me?] I couldn't help myself: [Ever occur to you he's fishing for information? Joseph could have any woman he wants. Why the hell would he want you?] Brenda exploded: [Sharon, I'm not done with you from last time. You asking for another beating?] That's when Mom and Dad burst into my room. "You ungrateful brat! You want to ruin this whole family!" "I'm trying to save you!" But they weren't listening. They never did. I braced myself as Dad's fists came down on me. Same as the last life. When Brenda poisoned me, I'd begged them to take me to the hospital. They didn't believe me. They just locked me away and watched, cold as stone, as I slipped away piece by piece. I never understood why. We were twins—same face, same blood. But Brenda got new clothes, the good school, everything. I got hand-me-downs and bruises. They confiscated my phone and threw me in the basement. Two days later, Brenda came back glowing. Joseph had invited her—and Mom and Dad—to his estate. A formal thank-you. I knew better. This wasn't a thank-you dinner. It was a trap. But the three of them were already deep in their fantasy—Dad planning which house he'd ask Joseph for, Mom calculating how much gold she could squeeze out of him, Brenda debating whether to have the wedding overseas or domestic, with a global livestream. I felt the weight of inevitability settle on my shoulders. Nothing had changed. Nothing would. Then—knock. Knock. Knock. A voice from the other side of the door. "Miss Brenda. Mr. and Mrs. Henderson. I'm Eric Park, Don Joseph's second. The Don's waiting for you."