The Day I Let My Sister Fall

My sister, Serena, always dreamed of striking it rich. Her plan? Stage an accident that would cripple Leo Kingston, the only son of Manhattan's most untouchable financial dynasty.

A rebar stake through the kid's chest. Serena played the Good Samaritan, rushing him to the E.R., even pumping out 800cc of her own blood. No fanfare, no creditthat was the trick to getting the biggest reward. As soon as the doctors said the danger had passed, she bolted.

And I didn't stop her. I stood in the corridor, watching her back.

Last timein my former lifeI tried to warn her. I saw her tampering with the equipment at the construction site and begged her to stop; the Kingstons were untouchable. She smiled, told me I was sweet, and then, on the walk home, she took me to the roof of that very same steel plant and pushed. I died choking on my own blood, impaled on the same construction debris she'd rigged.

My final thought: She blamed me for ruining her jackpot.

Then, I opened my eyes. Back in the same day. The same humming, antiseptic corridor.

This time, I wasn't saving her. I was watching her dig her own grave.

1

Leo Kingston was in emergency surgery. My sister, Serena Miller, was at the blood bank window, her face a mask of refined, selfless panic. Her expensive designer dress was artfully soaked in Leos blood. If you hadn't seen her orchestrate the accidentif you didn't know the sickening ambition churning beneath that fragile facadeyou would have thought she was a literal saint.

"Is that enough?" she pleaded with the nurse, her voice catching with forced tears. "If he needs more, take it! I have plenty! Hes so small. You have to save him, or I'll never have a moment's peace."

The nurse cooed about her kindness, assuring her that the amount she'd given was more than enough. Serena bowed and scraped, thanking the nurse with effusive, grateful reverence. But when the nurse asked for her name, Serena smoothly changed the subject.

It was all part of the plan. Her information was on the transfusion documents, but by pretending to be a self-effacing hero, she hoped the Kingstonsa family known for their obscene wealth and old money arrogancewould offer a reward far greater than any she could have negotiated.

The nurse hurried away. The surgical doors swung shut.

Serena's grip was a vice on my arm, making me gasp. The act was over. Her voice was a low, vicious hiss, all the Good Samaritan stripped away.

"Keep that mouth shut, Naomi. You know the score."

I gently pulled my arm free. I could feel the adrenaline thrumming through me, but I kept my face blankthe familiar, cowed expression she expected.

"Don't worry, Serena. You're my sister. Who else would I side with?" I kept my voice small and meek. "Just let me be the receptionist when you get your big payout. I just want a steady paycheck."

Serena scoffed, wiping a smear of blood off her sleeve with a disdainful frown. "Mom and Dad are right. You're a useless commodity, a born drone. You'll die in debt without my brilliance." She was already walking toward the elevator, high heels clicking impatiently.

I just nodded along, playing the pathetic, easily managed younger sister. Last time, my concern had been interpreted as sabotage. This time? I would push her toward the cliff. I wanted to see exactly how she planned to survive messing with Rhys Kingston.

Serena didn't spare me another thought. She saw my fabricated fear and preened. "Fine. Stop looking so scared. Youre irritating me. When my company launches, Ill hire you as my assistantmaybe hook you up with a chauffeur. That should keep your bills paid."

She practically dragged me to the elevator.

As expected, we hit the ground floor just as he arrived: Rhys Kingston, the man who owned half of Manhattan and whose son was currently bleeding out upstairs.

Serenas eyes sharpened, a silent, warning glare aimed at me.

I immediately clutched my stomach. "Bathroom. Emergency."

I fled. Why link myself to her when her carefully constructed tower was about to crumble?

I heard Serenas voice echoing down the corridor, overly sweet and carefully pitched. "Oh, no thanks are necessary. It's just what anyone would do. That poor boy is only five." She turned down the offer of immediate financial help, but conveniently dropped her new, expensive-looking business card right at the Assistant's feet.

I waited until I heard the elevator ding. Rhyss tone was lethally smooth, devoid of any genuine relief or gratitude.

"I want to know if this was a loose bolt or a calculated hit," he said to his Assistant. "No cops. I handle my own problems. You try to hurt a Kingston, you learn the hard way: I know a hundred ways to make you permanently quiet."

"Check the rebar. Check the workers. I want to know exactly how unstable that beam was. We'll see if the steel or the perpetrator is harder."

The Assistant nervously glanced at Serena's dropped card. "What about Serena Miller...?"

"Don't care yet," Rhys cut him off. "See to my son. I'll question the child when he wakes up."

I waited until the elevator doors closed on the elite entourage. I could finally breathe. Serena hadn't just messed with a wealthy man; she had tried to extort a true powerhouse. Her lavish funeral was practically booked.

Her car was gone when I finally stepped outside. She didn't answer her phone. I caught a cab back to our dismal little house.

The moment I walked through the door, my father's heavy glass ashtray slammed against my forehead. Blood immediately bloomed.

"Naomi, you spineless failure!" my mother shrieked, not even looking at the blood. "Your father has worked the Kingston site for years! This was our chance! You don't help your sister, but you damn well don't ruin her performance!"

My father shoved his palm directly onto the bleeding wound on my forehead. The pain was blinding. "Serena told you to leave immediately! Are you deaf? Did you plan to steal her savior credit? You idiot! Do you want 'Extortion' written on your t-shirt?"

They knew. They all knew this was a cheap, vile con. I remembered how they had blamed me in my former lifea cold, twisted memory where they refused to collect my broken body because I had supposedly cost Serena her fortune.

"Taking her credit?" I spat the words, tasting blood. "Or taking the fall for near-homicide? Only a sick person looks at everyone else and only sees an accomplice."

My father raised his hand for another blow, but Serena swept into the room, cutting him off.

"Stop, Dad. Shes useless. Dont waste your energy." She eyed my head wound with bored contempt. "Rhys Kingston got there so fast. Luckily, I was quick. I dropped the card and ran."

My mothers face, a second ago tight with fury, instantly melted into pride. "That's my girl! Always the smart one! Unlike some people, who are only good for being a drain on the electric bill! Twenty years, and still nothing but a disappointment!"

I retreated to my room, grabbing some tissue to staunch the bleeding. From the hallway, I could hear Serena, her voice breathless with excitement, recounting the 'accident.'

"He just tripped and fell off the scaffolding..."

I couldn't help myself. I marched out. "Stop lying to yourself! Do you think Rhys Kingston is as dumb as you are? Rebar doesn't 'just break,' Serena! Not that gauge! And it doesn't 'accidentally' fall into a five-year-olds chest cavity!"

My parents faces contorted with horror. They lunged for me.

They hit me. Both of them. Hard.

"Shut up!" My mother screamed. "Those words stay rotten in your throat! This was an accident, and your sister saved him! The Kingstons owe us! They have a moral duty to reward her!"

I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "So my honest paycheck is 'useless,' but extorting a man whose child you almost murdered is 'ambition'?"

My father grabbed the shattered glass ashtray and slammed it onto my head again. My vision swam, but the heat of my infected wound was nothing compared to the cold ache in my heart.

"You have no ambition, Naomi! You're poor! We'll be buried in unmarked graves before you earn anything worthwhile!"

"Why did you even bother having me?" I pleaded, my voice breaking. "One greedy daughter should have been enough."

A flicker of panicjust a quick, cold shadowcrossed both their faces.

Serena, preening, cut in. "Forget her, Mom. Shes poor. I told her Id give her a receptionist job, and she jumped at it. Rhys Kingston's gaze... it wasn't just gratitude. His wife died years ago. If I play this right, I won't just get a fifty-million payout. I'll get the whole empire."

My parents were ecstatic, ignoring me completely as they fawned over their brilliant daughter, handing her a bottle of expensive blood-restoration vitamins.

It was my moment.

I baited them with their own ugliness until my father was spitting mad. He snatched a document from a deskour family's official Birth and Identity Registryand viciously tore out the page with my name on it.

"Get out! Now! I have no daughter named Naomi!"

My mother stared at me with pure disgust. Serena, still glued to her phone, barely looked up. "Good. If you cant appreciate me, then go. Don't come crawling back when you get fired."

I smiled, picking up the torn page. Freedom.

"You'll see," I said, meeting their furious gazes with cold certainty. "The Kingstons aren't fools. You messed with the wrong people. We'll see who's begging for mercy when he decides to pay a visit."

I left the house and stumbled toward the nearest drugstore. My head was pounding, the wounds already starting to throb with feverish heat. The pharmacist gasped at the sight of meall blood and pale skinand urged me to go to the hospital.

I didn't make it out the door. My legs gave out.

When I next opened my eyes, I was in a hospital room. The nurses didn't notice I was awake.

"Did you hear?" one whispered. "The kid downstairs is a Kingston. Critically injured. Rhys Kingston flew in surgeons from Geneva and Tokyo overnight!"

"Who would attack a child?"

"I heard the kid's not stable. And the security detail? They look like ex-military, maybe mercs. Don't go near the room."

A cold dread settled over me. Serena was utterly doomed.

I quickly checked myself out, but not before I ran into Rhys Kingston's Assistant, frantic, racing down the hall and asking every person about their blood type. Leo needed a specific type, and the hospital's supply was running low due to complications.

I hesitated. I could walk away. I should.

But the kid was a pawn. My soul needed this absolution.

I followed the Assistant and gave my blood again. The urgency was so high, and the Kingstons had such pull, that no paperwork was filed. I was in and out of the operating room, and as soon as I heard Leo was stabilized, I ripped out the IV and fled. No information. No trail.

I rented a cheap place on the outskirts. The community was right next to the site of the 'accident.' From my window, I could watch Rhys Kingston and his private security systematically interrogate every worker.

I stayed hidden. Serena, however, was doing the opposite.

She practically lived outside the hospital entrance, hoping Rhys would recognize her. When that failed for three days, she went straight to Leo's room under the guise of concern.

The Assistant recognized her immediately. Leo, bless his heart, even told the Assistant that the "nice lady" was his hero. The Assistant was effusive, promising Serena a personal visit from Rhys when the boy was discharged.

Serena filmed the interaction and posted it.

Within hours, Serena Miller was an overnight sensationthe hero who saved the Kingston heir. Offers, praise, and gifts flooded our old house. She gave an on-camera interview, saying she'd have saved anyoneit was just the right thing to do. She cemented her benevolent image.

The flood of public approval and media attention made me cold. I immediately started the process of legally separating my name from my family's address.

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