My Brother Filmed My Death. I Directed His Downfall.

§PROLOGUE

The wind was a blade against my cheeks.

Below, the city lights of Columbus blurred into a glittering smear, a galaxy of indifferent stars.

I remember the rough texture of the balcony railing biting into my palms.

Then, nothing.

Just a shove.

Hard.

Final.

My grandfather’s face, twisted not with rage, but with a kind of righteous fury, was the last thing I saw.

"If it weren't for you," his voice rasped, a ghost already swallowed by the rushing air, "I'd be the one with her right now!"

My brother, Micah, didn’t try to stop him.

He just stood there, his phone raised, a silent witness capturing my final moments.

Then, impact.

Darkness.

A scream that was my own.

And then…

The sharp clink of a fork against a ceramic plate.

§01

"Dad, Sandra and I aren't against you finding a new partner," my father, Richard, said, his voice a low placating murmur.

"But Tessa seems to have a different opinion."

"Let's hear what she has to say first."

A sharp kick landed on my shin under the dinner table.

I flinched, my father’s narrowed eyes boring into me from across the room.

My mother, Sandra, jabbed my arm from the side, a stealthy attack hidden from my grandfather’s view.

"Tessa, honey, what are your thoughts?" she hissed.

"Tell us."

A jolt, like a live wire pressed to my spine, shot through me.

My fork, a foreign weight in my suddenly trembling hand, clattered to the floor.

I looked up, truly looked, at the faces around the table.

My father, Richard, his face a mask of strained patience.

My mother, Sandra, her lips pursed in anxious disapproval.

And my grandfather, Albert, his expression already darkening at the mere suggestion of dissent.

This wasn't a memory.

This wasn't a dream.

I was back.

This was the day he demanded money to take out a loan for his online "girlfriend."

§02

Albert’s voice, low and laced with a familiar, barely-contained anger, broke the silence.

"Oh? Tessa has a new opinion?"

"Spit it out, kid," my mother urged, her fingers digging into my arm like talons.

"What are you waiting for?"

In my first life, this was my cue.

This was when my parents, too cowardly to confront the family patriarch themselves, would push me forward as their sacrificial lamb.

"He's throwing his money away on that streamer," my father had said. "For your future, and your brother's, you have to talk some sense into him."

"We worked our whole lives for this family, for you and Micah," my mother had pleaded. "Are you just going to watch him flush it all down the toilet?"

And I, the dutiful daughter, the family peacemaker, had foolishly stepped into the line of fire.

I was the one who called the bank to freeze his accounts when the streamer, Kandi, asked for his details.

I was the one who called the police to report the fraud when she faked a family illness to borrow money, getting her account banned.

I was the one who sat him down with anti-scam videos when she tried to lure him into a shady investment scheme, getting him blocked for good.

And my reward?

When his poker buddy, Sid, successfully flew to meet his own online fantasy in Southeast Asia, flashing photos of his supposed new life, my grandfather’s rage found its target.

Me.

He believed I had sabotaged his one chance at true love.

He pushed me from that balcony without a second thought.

My parents didn’t even flinch to save me.

My brother, my darling brother Micah, just clapped.

A cold smile touched my lips, a bitter, unfamiliar thing.

This time, I wouldn't be their shield.

I would be their sword.

§03

"Grandpa," I began, my voice clear and surprisingly steady.

"I think a thirty-thousand-dollar loan is… well, it’s thinking too small."

"Tessa, have you lost your mind?" my parents hissed in unison.

Even Albert froze, a piece of roast beef halfway to his mouth.

My father quickly turned to my grandfather, forcing a strained laugh.

"Dad, don't listen to her. The pressure of her final year at Northfield State is getting to her. She's not thinking straight."

My mother lunged, her hand clamping over my mouth.

"That's right, she's running a bit of a fever today. Just talking nonsense."

She started trying to drag me back to my room.

It was almost comical.

My parents, who had never cared about a single penny I earned or saved, were terrified.

The house, the savings—it was all meant for Micah.

My existence was just a placeholder, a temporary drain on resources that rightfully belonged to the golden boy.

Last time, I protected their assets for them, and they let me die for it.

This time, their precious nest egg was the fuel I would use to burn their world to the ground.

§04

I pried my mother’s hand from my face.

"I'm not talking nonsense, Mom. You and Dad just lack vision."

I turned my most earnest, admiring gaze on my grandfather.

"Once you win over my new grandma, it's not just that two hundred thousand that stays in the family. Everything she has will be ours, too!"

"What the hell are they teaching you at that university?" my father roared, his hand raised as if to strike me.

He caught sight of my grandfather’s approving expression and slowly, reluctantly, lowered it.

"This is what happens when I don't keep a tighter leash on you," my mother seethed, grabbing my ear and twisting.

"You need to be taught a lesson."

How quickly I switched from an adult, whose opinion was sought, to a child in need of discipline.

"Stop it!" Albert’s voice boomed.

He stood up and pulled my mother’s hand away.

"Is the girl wrong? Just because you have the foresight of a mouse doesn't mean everyone else does. No wonder my son is such a disappointment. With your kind of small-minded thinking, you'll never amount to anything!"

He then rounded on my father.

"You said you and Sandra supported me! So why are you shouting at Tessa? Are you playing me for a fool?"

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