The Plot Twist Pact
A prime piece of real estate, overlooking the valley. They said the spot was impeccable.
It would guarantee a better life next time. A life where I wouldn't be the unwanted real daughter the one who came back and ruined the harmony. A life where no one could steal my parents, my brothers, my life.
A life where... I was loved.
I burned the photos, shredded the clothes, and erased every trace that Rowan Harrington had ever existed.
Then I ran a bath, took a blade to my wrist, and settled in to wait.
The call came as a final, cruel interruption. My final resting place, of all things.
Ms. Harrington, we are so sorry. The voice from The Haven Memorial Park was slick with apology.
Two agents cross-booked the plot.
It was simultaneously sold to another gentleman, Mr. Rhys Thorne.
Would you... be open to choosing a different plot?
1
Hell, no!
Id heard of moving cars, moving apartments. But a grave?
Rage and despair churned in my stomach, making the blood loss-induced nausea worse. I lurched upright in the tub. Blood-dyed water sloshed over the rim, staining the pristine marble floor.
Every curse word I had ever swallowed in my life rushed to my lips. But habit was a fortress. I forced the venom down.
I watched the contract upload into your system. Its tied to my personal information.
Yes, well, the park representative stammered, Mr. Thorne signed his contract at the same time, so...
So, his name isnt on the system yet, is it? I cut him off, my voice dangerously calm.
Im sorry, but no. I am not open to choosing a different plot.
When I came home, I couldn't win the fight for my family. My parents, my brothersthey all went to my sister, Chloe. But this plot? It was legally mine. I wasn't going to lose this, too.
The line went silent for a beat. When the voice returned, it was a low, resonant baritone I didnt recognize.
Ms. Harrington, name your price.
Any amount. Consider it compensation.
The edges of my vision were starting to blur from the loss of blood. I pressed the heels of my hands into my forehead, trying to clear the haze.
Its not about the money. I told him honestly, the words slurring only slightly.
I need it. Urgently.
But the cemetery, clearly sensing a big-money client, jumped to the new mans defense.
Ms. Harrington, we genuinely have hundreds of other premium plots. Mr. Thorne... he has a more immediate need.
And youre a young woman. Even if youre in a rush, you have time to
Is Mr. Thorne purchasing it for himself? I interrupted.
My question stopped them both. I didn't wait for the answer. I looked down at the hand soaking in the warm, crimson water.
Softly, calmly, I deployed my greatest competitive advantage.
Im slitting my wrists right now. Im dying today.
I really do need it urgently.
Please stop fighting me for it. Or, if you love it that much, maybe we can... split the plot?
2
A sudden, stunned silence fell over the phone line.
I didn't break it. I was doing a mental check of logistics. I figured cremation this afternoon and burial tonight would be the most secure option. This plotmy perfect, private spotI had to secure it.
But to do that, I needed to ensure someone would collect the body. No delays.
I bit back a whimper of pain, grabbed the phone off the edge of the tub, and opened the family group chat. The one pinned to the top of my messages.
Ro: Guys, I'm planning on taking my life.
Ro: Could one of you please come back to the condo to collect the body?
Ro: @all.
I hit send, not mentioning the cancerthat would just sound like another lie.
Less than twenty seconds later, the screen flashed: [Dad] has left the chat.
A bitter laugh escaped me. Perfect. Once the logistics were sorted, I'd dissolve the group myself. They had their other group chat, anyway. The one that didn't include me.
On the phone, Rhys Thorne cleared his throat. His tone was a complex weave of shock, doubt, and careful concern.
Ms. Harrington, youre... kidding, right?
A fresh line of blood tracked from my wrist down to my elbow, hitting the water with a light, clear plink.
It served as my answer.
The line went silent again. Then, a sudden rush of wind roared in the background of his call. He must have been outside, or maybe speeding somewhere.
I didn't pay attention. The dizziness was getting worse.
My family group chat remained desolate. No one answered.
I pressed my lips together, took a shaky breath, and snapped a gruesome photo of my bloodied arm.
Ro: Sorry. No joke this time.
Ro: The grave site is being fought over. Im serious about the rush.
Ro: Just reply to me once. This is the last time. Please?
Buzz.
The phone vibrated weakly a moment later.
Unexpectedly, someone replied.
Ethan: K.
3
K.
Go to hell, Ethan.
Ro: Thank you for your service.
I exited the chat, intending to delete the app altogether. But the phone immediately buzzed a few more times.
Chloe: Sis, Im so sorry... Ill make Mom, Dad, and the guys come back right now.
Chloe: Ethan is busy with work, lets not bother him.
Declan: Come back for what, a pity party?!
Declan: This is all because its your birthday, and were out with Chloe, isnt it?
Declan: We said wed be back tonight! Rowan, what the hell do you want?
Declan: You cant go one day without causing drama? Cant you stop performing for attention?
A sharp, physical pain constricted my chest. I smiled a pained, shaky smile.
Ro: Sure I can. Im dying, remember?
Chloe. She was the girl my parents adopted three years after I was accidentally abducted. She was supposed to be my temporary replacement, a vessel for their grief and guilt.
But ever since I came back, Id envied her. Chloe was the blinding sunlight that helped my family move past the shadows.
I was the shadow they couldnt shake.
I came back with all the scars and side effects of my years missing: uncouth, timid, awkward, lacking education. They felt a crushing guilt toward me, but that guilt was wrapped in an uncomfortable distance. I was a permanent, unwelcome guest in the Harrington house.
Chloe was their familythe one they laughed with, joked with, and indulged.
I tried for years to erase the seven missing years, to ingratiate myself, to earn their love.
But no matter how hard I tried, their preference for Chloe only grew. They started to see me as jealous, bullying, manipulativealways vying for their attention. The distance became outright contempt.
It all broke on that final day:
We ran tests. Your pill bottle was filled with vitamins!
Why the hell do you keep complaining about stomach pain then?
Using our guilt to hold the entire family hostage, is that fun?
Competing with Chloe, is that what makes you happy?!
No. It wasn't fun.
So now I had cancer. And I was dying. I wouldnt be a burden or a rival to their precious Chloe anymore.
This family? They could keep it.
4
Mom: Rowan... how did you become like this?
Mom: Blame me, but please dont do this.
Mom: Im coming back now...
Declan: Mom, ignore her! She's a liar! Suicide? Fine! Go drown yourself in the ocean!
Declan: Just don't mess up the house or bother us with the cleanup.
Declan: From now on, the Harrington family doesnt have you.
A pause. Fifteen seconds of excruciating silence. Then, he sent the final, fatal message:
Declan: Sometimes, I actually wish you had never come back.
The cut on my wrist, which had felt numb moments ago, erupted in searing, soul-shattering pain. It was a physical manifestation of the emotional wound. Tears that I couldnt control began to stream down my face.
Rowan Harrington!
Perhaps my silence had lasted too long. Rhys Thornes voicedeep, strong, and utterly furiouscame through the phone.
The wind howled on his end of the line.
Talk to me!
5
His shout dragged me back to my body.
I blinked away the tears, quickly pressed a towel to the major bleeding points on my wrist, and slowly, weakly, stood up. I managed a small, tired smile as I closed my eyes.
The plot is yours.
I wont be needing it anymore.
6
Ro: K, sounds good. I'll take your advice.
7
Since the burial plot was legally tied to my information, both parties had to meet to sign the transfer papers. I set the meeting location at Metropolitan General Hospital.
I needed to get stitched up before going to the ocean, anyway. After such a long time bleeding, I might not make it to the water otherwise. And then Id just be a mess for someone else to clean up.
I was surprised. Rhys Thorne should have been driving from the distant memorial park, yet he arrived only ten minutes after I did, despite me being in the city.
The agent, wiping sweat from his brow, noticed my confusion.
Mr. Thorne drove straight here the moment he heard you were... suicidal.
He checked your file for your home address and sped back to the city.
He probably broke every speed limit.
I looked over at the man standing next to the agent. Tall, well-built, dressed in a simple white tee, a casual jacket, and chinos. He was remarkably handsome, with clear, intense eyes.
You just got here, too? Rhys asked, slightly out of breath. Come on, we need to find a nurse
Rowan Harrington, number zero-zero-seven, please report to Examination Room B.
The robotic voice from the speaker cut him off.
Rhys stared at me, dumbfounded. Youre in this condition, and you took a number?
I nodded, confused by his reaction. Uh, yeah. Why? No rush, right? Dont want to take up the ER resources.
Rowan Harrington?
A familiar, icy voice of surprise sounded behind me.
I turned. I hadnt expected to see Owen Harringtonmy second brother, a rising star internist at the City Hospital. What was he doing here, at Metro General?
Owen clearly hadn't expected the name being called to actually be me. His brow furrowed as he approached. The screen of his phone was lit up. It looked like a text message thread.
Oh, no. It must have been the group chat.
Did you know I was here for a surgical symposium today?
His voice was a cold, distant accusation. His eyes swept over my makeshift-bandaged wrist, and a flicker of impatience crossed his face.
Theres a limit to how far you can push a pathetic stunt, Rowan.
8
The Harrington family had three sons. Ethan was the businessman, Owen the doctor, and Declan the racecar driver. Compared to Declans toxic cruelty, my older brothers were generally characterized by their busy schedules and cool indifference.
I barely reacted to Owens words.
Rhys Thorne, however, frowned instantly. He stepped forward, taking my arm and pulling me into the exam room, gently sitting me down on the edge of the examination table.
Doctor, this is an emergency. It cannot be delayed.
Rhys shot a pointed, cold glance back at Owen, who was still standing at the door.
Owens face tightened. He stood frozen for a few seconds, then let out a cold, cynical laugh.
Youve stooped so low that only Chloe would fall for this performance.
She was worried sick about you and is already hurrying Mom and Dad back home.
Congratulations. As you wished, the whole family is miserable. Satisfied?
His gaze slid over my bandaged wrist again. His eyes darkened, but he said nothing else. He simply turned, walking toward the exit, apparently confident I would follow his command.
Thats when the doctor, reading the information from my intake card, gasped.
You have stomach cancer?!
This needs a gastroenterologist. You registered for general surgerythat wont help you!
The exam room fell silent.
The hand Rhys had on my wrist froze instantly.
Owen Harrington stopped dead in the doorway.
But unlike Rhyss sheer shock, Owens face registered immediate annoyance and contempt.
First a suicide attempt, now cancer.
Rowan Harrington, know when to quit.
If you keep this up, you wont have a way to save face if you dont actually die.
My eyes flickered, the pain replaced by a quiet, bitter amusement. I nodded slowly, forcing a slight smile.
Okay. Then I guess Ill just go die.
9
Owen let out a short, tired scoff and pinched the bridge of his nose. His impatience was bordering on outright disgust.
Ive been in meetings for hours. Im too exhausted to watch your performance, Rowan.
Owens work was demanding and unpredictable. For years, I had quietly adapted to his schedule, making sure I never added to his burdens. If this were a month ago, I would have rushed over, offered a water, and apologized for troubling him.
But this time, I stayed put, sitting quietly. I looked up at him, my expression blank.
Then you should go home and rest early.
Owens face froze. A flash of somethingconfusion? panic?crossed his eyes, before it snapped back to his default cold indifference.
Whatever. Do what you want.
Just keep your word. If youre not coming home, dont ever come back.
My heart remained utterly still, like dead water that couldn't be stirred. I nodded softly, my smile serene.
K. Sounds good. I'll take your advice.
Take my advice, my ass.
Very suddenly, Rhys Thorne snapped. He gently but firmly pulled my hand onto the examination table for the doctor, stood up, and turned to face Owen.
Rhyss eyes were dark, his expression lethal. He only said one word.
Roll.
10
The exam room door slammed shut behind Owen.
Rhys pulled up a chair next to mine and sat down, silently watching the doctor unwrapping the crude bandage on my wrist.
I broke the silence. Just give me the transfer papers. Ill sign them now.
I didn't want to waste his time.
Rhys didnt answer. His gaze moved from the grotesque cut on my arm to my eyes.
You said you needed it urgently. Why concede?
And if youre not going home, where exactly are you going?
The plots yours, dude. Why do you care? I thought. Stop interrogating me.
I was planning to just use the safe excuseI dont need it. But Rhyss eyes were too intense, too perceptive. I had a feeling that any lie would only prolong the conversation.
I sighed, giving in to the strange necessity of the truth.
Its too much trouble to arrange for someone to collect the body.
So, Im planning to drown myself in the sea and feed the fish.
The plot is no longOuch!
The doctor, apparently startled by my morbid update, lost his grip on the gauze, tightening it painfully. He gave me an apologetic look, clipped the dressing tape, and then paused.
He spoke gently. Are you sure you dont want to try and fight this?
With good management, you can usually buy yourself five more years with stomach cancer.
I blinked, then shook my head with a light laugh.
Nah. Lived long enough. I dont need the extra three to five years.
I pulled my bandaged hand back and turned my head, intending to ask Rhys for the papers again. My eyes caught the realtor standing behind him.
I blinked again. Wait. Those two men came empty-handed.
So, the transfer papers... where are they?
Rhyss expression shifted. He pressed his lips together, his eyes becoming unreadable. He thought for a few seconds, then finally spoke.
Rowan Harrington. Lets split the plot.
11
It might have been the blood loss. It was probably the shock of his bizarre proposal.
My vision went completely black for a moment.
I steadied myself for several long seconds before I found my voice. Excuse me?
Didnt you suggest it? Rhys smiled faintly. If you love it that much, maybe we can split the plot.
I think thats an excellent idea.
Its perfect for a loner like me.
Your relatives will come and visit, bring flowers, and pay their respects on all the major holidays. I get to piggyback on their love.
Its a great value proposition.
He met my stunned gaze, his smile softening. In return, Ill personally arrange the collection and cleanup of your body, no fuss.
I clutched my chest. I looked back and forth between him and the door.
Why did that sound... appealing?
But you can probably tell from the scene at the hospital, my family wont actually come to visit.
Doesnt matter, Rhys said, entirely unconcerned. Having a neighbor is better than having no company at all.
He stood up and looked down at me, his demeanor casual and easya complete contrast to the cold fury hed just shown Owen.
If Ms. Harrington isn't willing, I can always look for another
Deal!
12
I picked a gorgeous beacha misty, private cove where the sunset stained the sky in brilliant hues. It felt like a magnificent place for a grand finale.
But I was already starting to regret my "plot-sharing" arrangement with Rhys. The man was too meticulous.
Lets just wait for the sunset. Were not in that much of a rush.
The water at night is too cold.
In fact, lets just wait for the sunrise, then you can go.
Fine. Youre the cleanup guy. You make the rules.
The night wait for the sunrise was agonizingly long. Blood loss makes you tired, and I quickly drifted off.
I expected the five-thirty alarm to wake me. I did not expect my third brother, Declan, to call me via video chat at 10:32 PM.
Rhys was asleep, slumped comfortably against the passenger window. I quietly opened the car door and stepped out.
I answered the call. The screen immediately filled with the image of the Harringtons ornate dining room table, Chloe in the center, bathed in attention. Ethan wasnt there, but the others were.
Rowan, are you insane?! Declans brow was deeply furrowed, his voice choked with anger.
You drag the whole family back, and now where the hell are you?
Chloe spent the entire afternoon making your favorite meal. Get your ass home now!
Mom leaned into the frame, her voice still soft, but layered with exhaustion and disappointment.
Rowan, please stop this. Just come back and celebrate your birthday with us, okay?
Dad scoffed. Making your parents wait to eat? Where are your manners?
My eyes skimmed the clearly disturbed plates of food. I smiled faintly. It occurred to me that Rhyss cleanup schedule and my death schedule didn't have to be linked. Why was I waiting for him?
A profound, dead calm settled in my heart. I took a decisive step forward. The water rushed over my feet.
Im dying right now. Im not coming back.
Just as I spoke, the lock on the front door clicked.
Ethan Harrington, dressed in a sharp suit, appeared in the doorway. His gaze swept over the table. He changed his shoes, then walked directly toward the only bedroom on the first floor.
My room.
I was busy in a meeting this afternoon. I forgot about Rowan.
How is she? Still being dramatic?
He spoke lightly, casually, then reached for the doorknob and opened my bedroom door
13
The room was utterly empty. All my belongings were gone.
The sliding bathroom door was wide open. The tub was a horrifying scene of bright, red water.
The sight shocked everyone into silence.
Owen, the doctor, reacted the fastest. He shot up from the table and sprinted into the room.
When he saw the level of blood in the tub, he sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes quickly filled with panic and disbelief.
No, wait, this volume of bloodthis is not a stunt.
Sheshe was really trying to die...
He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out his phone, and quickly scrolled through something, zooming in on the screen.
I couldnt see the image, the video feed was too blurry. But I knew exactly what he was looking at: the photo of my cut wrist.
Ah. That explained it. How could a doctormy own brotherhave thought I was just acting if he had actually looked at the depth of that cut?
He hadn't. He hadn't even bothered to look.
A cold certainty settled in my heart. I tilted my head back, raising my hand to end the call.
But Owen snatched the phone from Declan. His face was pale.
Rowan Harrington, stop this immediately.
Come back... just come home.
Or tell me where you are. Ill come get you...
14
The seawater was chilling, rising past my waist. Rhys was right. The night water was truly freezing.
I stopped moving and finally let my eyes focus on the screen. I met Owens terrified gaze.
Go back. And then what?
Go back to being your awkward, visiting stranger, watching how much you adore Chloe?
We never wronged you, though! Declans defensive, tortured voice came clearly through the speaker.
Unlike Owen, who now seemed to suspect the cancer was real, Declan was still convinced I was acting out. But his hostility had softened into a desperate defensiveness.
Weve never lacked for you. Who walked on eggshells and treated you like a princess before you started your little schemes?
Why do you have to compete with Chloe?
They never lacked for me. True. They just didn't love me.
Chloe gets a cold, and the entire family coos and gives her medicine.
I slit my wrist, and I get "Go die somewhere else so you don't bother us with the cleanup."
These were my biological parents and brothers. Why shouldn't I compete? Why the hell shouldn't I fight for them to love me?!
Rowan, Owen swallowed hard. Just come home first. We can talk when youre home.
If youre really sick, your brother will save you...
I kept walking. The cold water submerged the rough bandage, and a sharp sting registered. I smiled faintly and cut him off.
Owen Harrington, I havent had a brother, or a home, for a very long time.
Owens body stiffened. It seemed to hit him that I hadn't called them "brother" in a very long time. Not since the day they accused me of lying about my stomach pain.
They were the ones who said it.
Rowan Harrington, I truly wish Chloe was our real sister.
Owens eyes widened with a frantic, regretful look. He shook his head, his voice trembling.
No, thats not true! Those were words spoken in anger, out of disappointment!
We just didnt want you to keep bullying Chloe or competing with her
A large hand reached over and snatched the phone away.
I looked up in surprise. Rhys Thorne was standing right behind me in the water, his moonlight-drenched gaze heavy.
People only envy others for two reasons.
One, they believe the person doesn't deserve it.
Two, because they lack it themselves.
You had the energy to criticize her jealousy.
But you never had the decency to give her what she lackedsecurity, affection, belief.
Rhys let out a cold, short laugh, his lips curling with pure contempt.
Its not favoritism. Its just lazy cruelty.
Garbage.
15
Splash!
The phone was tossed into the waves, sending a small spray of water into the air.
My eyes widened. Wait. That was my phone, right? You just threw my phone into the ocean?
Rowan Harrington.
Rhys took my hand and stood with me in the icy sea, his eyes locked on mine.
He didn't say anything else. He just sighed, then bent down and lifted me horizontally out of the water. He held me tightly against his chest, turning toward the shore.
I have a home. Why dont you come take a look?
If you like it, we can try sharing that, too.
First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "292038" to read the entire book.
Bookworm« Previous Post
The Reaper's Severance
Next Post »
Begging My Ghost