"Then Die," I Told My Sister, and Lived

§PROLOGUE

The last breath rattled in my chest, a sound like gravel scraping bone.

My cheek was pressed against the damp, cold concrete of the basement floor.

Above me, through a sliver of a window, the city glowed, a galaxy of light I could no longer reach.

A few hours ago, I had dragged my failing body here, to the gates of the Bancroft estate, begging to see my sister.

Jessamine.

The security guards had looked at me like I was trash blown in by the wind.

But she had come.

Dressed in silk that shimmered under the moonlight, looking every bit the princess she had become.

“I need money, Jessie,” I had rasped, the words tearing at my raw throat. “The doctors… they said there’s a chance. Early stage.”

She had sighed, a delicate, theatrical sound.

“We are in a relationship of equals, Claren,” she’d said, her voice smooth as polished stone. “If I ask him for money, what does that make me? You have to think about my position.”

Then, she’d offered me a serene, pitying smile.

“It’s only early stage, right? You should exercise more. You can fight it. I believe in you.”

I believe in you.

The same words she had used a lifetime ago, when she’d clung to my leg and begged me not to accept the sponsorship.

“I would rather starve than accept charity given in contempt!” she had cried, her face streaked with tears. “Hold your head high, Claren! Your pride is all we have left!”

I had believed her then.

I had turned down the offer from Ms. Alcott, the kind woman who wanted to give us a future.

I had worked my fingers to the bone, doing odd jobs, cleaning toilets, anything to keep a roof over our heads and food on her plate, to fund her education.

All so my brilliant, proud sister could keep her spine straight.

And then, she had met Cormac Bancroft.

And her spine had bent so beautifully.

Now, as the world dissolved into a smear of black, I felt a bitter laugh bubble up, a laugh that died in my throat as a single, searing pain ripped through me.

You played me so well, Jessie.

So very well.

Then… nothing.

§01

A gasp.

My own.

Sharp and clean and burning with cold air.

My eyes flew open.

Not to the grimy basement ceiling, but to the peeling paint of my aunt's spare room.

Sunlight, thick with dust motes, streamed through a grimy window.

I sat bolt upright, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

My hands flew to my body.

No pain.

No weakness.

Just the wiry strength of a teenager who worked too hard and ate too little.

I scrambled out of the lumpy bed and stared into the cracked mirror on the wall.

A girl stared back.

Seventeen.

Haunted eyes in a face too thin, but alive.

So terribly, wonderfully alive.

A knock on the door made me jump.

“Claren? Are you ready?” It was my aunt’s perpetually tired voice. “That nice lady is here again.”

That nice lady.

Meredith Alcott.

The memory hit me with the force of a physical blow.

This was the day.

The day I had made the wrong choice.

The day I had chosen my sister’s pride over my own life.

I took a deep, shuddering breath.

Not this time.

This time, my life comes first.

When I walked into the cramped living room, the scene was exactly as I remembered.

Meredith Alcott sat on our threadbare sofa, her smile warm and genuine.

Jessamine stood beside her, radiating a cold, defiant beauty.

She was already wearing the mask of the Ice Queen.

“Girls,” Meredith said, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ve come to make my offer one last time. A full sponsorship for your education, a place to live… a future.”

“We will never accept your charity,” Jessamine declared, her voice ringing with rehearsed nobility. “We Redfields would rather starve.”

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"Then Die," I Told My Sister, and Lived

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