My Suicide, His Insane Regret

Five years after my brother threw me out, our paths crossed in the velvet darkness of a nightclub.
He was the VIP client, dropping a fortune to celebrate his precious Stella's birthday.
I was one of the atmosphere girls, paid to pour drinks and keep the party going.
We didn't exchange a single word the entire night.
Not until Id downed two straight bottles of brandy for a five-hundred-dollar tip.
As he stared at my ghost-white face, his lips thinned and his voice was a whip of ice.
"You'd rather do this... degrading work than come home and apologize?"
"Anna," he snarled, "you've really got some fucking nerve."
I just gave him a tired, empty smile and held out my hand.
"Five hundred dollars. Cash or Venmo?"
Time had washed away the old grievances; I had no energy left to fight.
But that five hundred dollars was exactly what I needed to pay off the final installment on my urn.

The private room fell silent. All eyes were on me, a mix of pity, curiosity, and contempt.
Someone snorted with laughter.
My brother Julians face, already dark, turned thunderous.
He was humiliated.
For people like them, five hundred dollars was less than the cost of breakfast.
But for me, it was worth swallowing my pride and two bottles of liquor.
His darling Stella, Stella Monroe, sneered at me.
"Julian has been waiting for you to come home, and this is what you're doing? Isn't it... dirty?"
I glanced at her. "There's nothing dirty about earning an honest living. It's not like I'm sleeping with them."
She let out a cold, dismissive laugh. "Are you that desperate for money? Fine. Drink two more, and I'll add another five hundred."
The moment the words left her mouth, the onlookers started jeering.
"Go on, drink up! If Stella's adding five hundred, so will I!"
"Count me in! I'll throw in a grand!"
Without hesitating, I reached for another bottle.
Suddenly, the door swung open and the manager, hearing the commotion, scurried in, a greasy smile plastered on his face.
He shoved me aside and bowed obsequiously to my brother.
"Mr. Kane, did this employee do something to offend you?"
"Please, don't be angry. She doesn't know how to behave. If"
"Are you going to drink it for her?" Julian cut him off, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.
Sweat beaded on the manager's forehead. He didn't want to stand up for me, but he was terrified I'd drink myself to death on his watch. He chuckled nervously. "That's a lot of alcohol, sir. Even a grown man couldn't handle that, let alone a young woman like her."
"Then get the hell out!"
Julian's brow furrowed with impatience. He pulled a thick stack of cash from his walletten grandand threw it at the manager.
"Anna isn't leaving tonight. If you get in my way again, you can forget about keeping this club open."
The manager scrambled to scoop up the money, his face splitting into a delighted grin. He couldn't care less about me now. With a quick "thank you," he vanished.
Every eye in the room was on me again.
Julian's lip curled. "What? You don't want the money anymore?"
My face was a blank mask as I walked over, grabbed a bottle, and tipped it back.
After the first two, my stomach was already twisting like a knot of knives. I drank this one slowly, drawing a fresh round of mockery from the crowd.
Julian's expression grew darker with every passing second.
Just as I finished the bottle and reached, swaying, for the next, his hand shot out and clamped around my wrist like a vise.
"Are you trying to kill yourself, Anna?!"
"I want the money."
I wrenched my hand free, grabbed the last bottle, and started pouring it down my throat.
I had a plan. The lights were dim. I'd pretend my hands were shaking and let some of it spill. No one would notice.
But I'd barely taken a swallow when a hand cracked across my face.
CRACK!
The blow stunned me. The bottle slipped from my grasp and shattered on the floor.
Julian's voice was a furious roar, his teeth clenched.
"Have you no shame? Is money all you care about?!"
"Stop drinking! Even if you drink yourself to death, I won't give you a single cent!"
The alcohol hit me like a tidal wave. The room swam, colors bleeding into one another.
And a voice, a voice I had buried deep in my heart for five years, exploded in my memory:
"You sold Mom's heirloom for money? Did I starve you? Did I leave you without clothes? Why didn't you just sell yourself?!"
"Get out! From now on, I don't have a sister!"
Five years ago, Stella set a perfect trap for me.
She stole our mothers heirloom bracelet from Julians study, sold it, and blamed me.
Julian was incandescent with rage. He made me kneel in the snow for three days and three nights, demanding to know where Id sold it.
But how could I know?
I told him it was Stella's scheme, that she couldn't stand seeing him be kind to me.
He refused to believe me.
Theft. Disrespect for our mother. Stubborn defiance.
I had hit all three of his triggers.
Fueled by Stellas lies, he confiscated all my money and threw me out of the house.
For the first six months, I managed. I found a job in sales and could support myself with a little left over.
But then everything changed.
Julian made the one and only phone call to me in five years.
His first words were: "Are you ready to come back and admit you were wrong? Just tell me where you sold it, and I'll forgive you."
I was still running on pride and fury. "I told you it wasn't me, don't you understand? Go ask your precious Stella! She's the one who sold it!"
He hung up. The very next day, I was fired.
He put the word out all over Bay City: anyone who helped me was his enemy.
For the next four and a half years, I couldn't find a single legitimate job. My only option was to work the nightlife circuit, being an "atmosphere girl."
It was like he was rubbing my nose in it. He not only publicly declared Stella the sole heir to his company, but he also paraded her around at interviews, galas, and auctions.
He spent money on her like it was watermillions at a time. Their faces were constantly on the financial news channels.
And I watched from the shadows, drinking my way into stomach cancer just to survive.
I spent years seeing doctors, draining every penny I had. I took out predatory payday loans, but it was never enough. The experimental drugs were too expensive, and chemotherapy was a pipe dream.
I tried calling Julian to borrow money. Id barely gotten a few words out before he cut me off.
"Money, money, money! Is that all you ever think about?!"
"Don't ever expect a dime from me until you come back and apologize. You can just go die in a ditch for all I care!"
That was the call that extinguished my last flicker of hope.
I was so tired. Truly.
If he wanted me to die, then fine. I would die.
At least the pain would stop.
A month ago, I ordered myself an urn.
I scraped together what I could, but I was still five hundred dollars short on the final payment.
The shop owner called almost every day to chase the debt.
I thought I could finally pay it off tonight.
But Julian gave the manager ten thousand dollars and wouldn't spare five hundred for me.
He and his entourage swept out of the bar.
I was left in the bathroom, vomiting until the world turned black and white.
Only one thought remained.
Three bottles of brandy. All for nothing.
The shift supervisor was smoking beside me.
"What in the world did you do to piss off Mr. Kane? His face was practically green when he left. What's the deal between you two?"
Waves of agony pulsed through my stomach. My head was spinning. I could barely keep my eyes open, clinging to the toilet to keep from falling in.
"I don't know him," I mumbled. "Enemies, I guess."
The next day, a phone call ripped me from my sleep.
It was the urn seller.
"Miss Kane, when are you going to pay the balance? It's five hundred bucks. Are you really going to drag this out for a month?"
"If you can't pay in three days, I'm not holding it for you anymore! And you're not getting your deposit back!"
My voice was a raw croak. "Please, just give me a little more time. I get paid in two weeks, then"
"I can't wait two weeks!" he snapped, his tone sharp. "I've never seen anyone like you, dragging your feet over buying an urn. If you don't have the money, you shouldn't have ordered such an expensive one in the first place!"
Before I could say another word, he hung up.
My head was splitting. I called my manager, hoping to get an advance on my salary.
His response was even more brutal.
"Just so you know, you don't need to come in today. You're fired."
"And you won't be getting paid. It's Mr. Kane's orders. Our hands are tied."
A roaring filled my ears. My voice was a frantic squeak. "You can't do that! That's against labor laws! I'll file a complaint!"
The manager laughed coldly. "A complaint? Go ahead. Mr. Kane said he'll personally handle any consequences. His legal team is the best in the country. If you want to walk into a buzzsaw, be my guest."
He hung up on me, too.
A knot of despair tightened in my chest. I felt sick, my face pale, a metallic taste of rust filling my throat.
Suddenly, a mouthful of blood surged up, spattering onto my sheets.
I stared at the bright, shocking red, and the tears I'd been holding back finally broke free.
After a long while, I mechanically cleaned up the mess and swallowed a handful of painkillers.
By the time I was done, I was completely drained of strength.
Leaning against my bed, I thought back on the five years since I was cast out.
I realized with a horrifying clarity that every escape route, every path forward, had been deliberately cut off by my own brother.
Now, I couldn't even work in the clubs anymore.
Just eating was a challenge, let alone paying for painkillers or an urn.
All I wanted was a beautiful little house to rest in when I died.
Was that really so wrong?
I buried my face in my hands and sobbed, crying until the afternoon sun began to fade. Finally, a sliver of strength returned.
Looking at my trembling hands, I made a decision. I was going home.
I was going to ask Julian Kane why. Why was he doing this to me?
When I arrived, Julian and Stella were eating dinner.
He glanced at me, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "So, you finally decided to come back?"
"Why did you have my manager fire me?" I shot back, ignoring his question. "Five years. Haven't you humiliated me enough?"
He raised an eyebrow, completely unconcerned. "How else would you learn that home is the only place for you?"
"Anna, do you have any idea what people are saying about you out there? The only reason you haven't heard the disgusting rumors is because I've been suppressing them. And you're still not grateful?"
Stella set down her fork, her voice dripping with venom. "Brother, she'll never appreciate what you do for her. Look at her. She's clearly blaming you!"
"Shut up!"
I lunged at her, my hand raised to strike.
But in the next second, Julian's hand closed around my wrist.
His face was a mask of cold fury. "Now you've learned to hit people? I see you'll never understand what you did wrong."
"Do you want to see if I can make it so you can't survive in this city?"
My heart seized, as if squeezed by a giant, cruel hand.
Can't survive?
Isn't that what hed been doing for the past five years?
Destroying my jobs, crushing my hopes, one by one.
Leaving me worse off than a sewer rat, broken and bleeding, unable to even afford a final resting place.
I was done. I was so done with his threats.
The dam inside me broke. "I DID NOTHING WRONG!" I screamed, a raw, ragged sound. "Julian, if you won't let me live in peace, then maybe I should just die! Would that satisfy you?!"
"I'll go to hell! You can't control me there, can you?!"
My words seemed to ignite his rage. A vein throbbed at his temple.
"Even in death, you will forever be in my debt!"
He shoved me.
It wasn't a hard push, but I was weak. I stumbled backward, my lower back slamming into the corner of the dining table. Pain exploded through me, and a cold sweat broke out all over my body. My face went white.
A flicker of regret crossed Julian's eyes. He turned his back on me.
"Until you get Mom's heirloom back, you don't even have the right to die!"
With that, he strode out of the room.
I was in too much pain to get up. Stella stood over me, arms crossed, a triumphant smirk on her face.
"Look at you, sister. So pathetic."
"How about this? You get on your knees and beg me, and maybe I'll tell you who I sold that little trinket to. How about it?"
I stared at her, my eyes burning with a hatred so intense I wanted to tear her apart. But I knew I didn't even have the strength to slap her.
I had lived in humiliation for five years. I couldn't even have a shred of dignity before I died.
Julians words echoed in my ears:
"Even in death, you will forever be in my debt!"
Fine.
If I get the heirloom back, then I can die in peace, right?
I desperately scraped the tears from my face and knelt at Stella's feet. I bowed my head to the floor three times.
"Please," I begged, my voice cracking. "Tell me where Mom's heirloom is."
In the past, every time she schemed against me, I would fight back with everything I had.
But this time, I had no fight left in me.
Stella seemed to lose interest. The game wasn't fun anymore.
She tossed a slip of paper at me.
"There's the address. But sister, you still have to be able to get it back."
Numbly, I picked up the paper, found a shared bike, and headed to the address.
It was a pawn shop in a remote suburb. When I explained why I was there, the owner said nothing and simply produced the bracelet.
Clearly, Stella had already briefed him.
I felt nothing. I just wanted to get the bracelet back to Julian so our debts would be settled.
But as I reached for it, the owner's fingers suddenly went slack.
CRACK! The jade bracelet hit the floor and shattered into a dozen pieces.
I froze, the blood draining from my face.
The owner cried out, "Young lady, why weren't you more careful? This has nothing to do with me!"
"Anna!"
Julians furious voice came from behind me.
I whipped around and met Stellas triumphant gaze. She was clinging to Julians arm.
"See, brother? I told you! Anna did it on purpose!"
"She'd rather smash Mom's bracelet to pieces than admit she was wrong. And to think you were still willing to forgive her!"
Julian didn't seem to hear her. His eyes were glued to the pile of shattered jade on the floor. He walked forward, his steps heavy.
He knelt down stiffly, and for a long moment, he just stared. Then, piece by piece, he began to gather the fragments, clutching them in his palm.
"It wasn't me," I whispered, a frantic panic rising in my chest as I watched his desolate figure. "He dropped it. And I wasn't the one who sold it back then..."
But at the sound of my voice, Julian shot to his feet and slapped me with all his might.
The force of it sent me sprawling to the ground.
My stomach churned, my cheek was on fire, and involuntary tears streamed down my face.
His chest heaved, his face a terrifying mask of rage. "You still have the nerve to talk? For five years, I gave you chance after chance! I told myself, if you just came home and told me where it was, I would forgive you!"
"But what did you do?!"
"Anna, you don't deserve to be a Kane, and you certainly don't deserve to be my sister!"
The utter disappointment in his voice was a physical blow. He had lost control, his eyes red as he roared at me.
My heart plummeted into a black abyss.
I felt a familiar metallic tang at the back of my throat and swallowed hard against the rising blood.
My voice was a choked sob. "What if... what if I was really dying?"
"Stop playing the victim!" Julian spat, his eyes filled with disgust. He was squeezing the jade shards so tightly that blood began to drip from his palm.
"Even if you died, I wouldn't feel a thing!"
"Fine."
I clenched my fists and shakily pulled myself to my feet.
In that moment, something inside me clicked into place.
I was going to die.
All the debts and resentments... they didn't matter anymore.
If he wanted to believe I did it all, then fine. I did it.
After I was gone, I'd be nothing but a handful of dust. None of it would mean anything.
I gave a bitter laugh and turned, walking out of the shop.
Julian yelled after me, "Where do you think you're going?! Won't you be happy until you've driven me to my grave?!"
I didn't look back. My voice floated back to him.
"You don't have to die. I will."
For the next two days, Julian didn't contact me.
He took the bracelet to be repaired, only to be told that no matter what they did, it would never be the same. The sight of the poorly mended jade sent him into a silent fury.
On the first day, he made a public announcement, officially severing all ties with me.
Facing the media, his face was stone. "From this day forward, I will no longer be involved in Anna Kane's affairs. Whatever job she finds, even if she sells her body, I will not interfere."
"I only ask that no one ever mention her name to me again. The sound of it makes me sick."
The media was in an uproar. He was swift and ruthless, having my name officially removed from the family registry.
On the second day, he took Stella to the ancestral hall. He legally changed her surname to Kane and formally acknowledged her as the young mistress of the family.
A relative asked him, puzzled, "Is all this really necessary? Anna is your biological sister. What if something happens to her, and you've abandoned her like this?"
Julian's lips tightened into a thin line. His tone was mocking. "What could happen? I've spent the last five years crushing her, and she's still alive and kicking, isn't she?"
"She won't die. She doesn't have the guts. And she wouldn't have the face to see our mother in the afterlife."
Unfortunately for him, he was wrong again.
Because I was right there beside him, in spirit form.
I had been dead for two days, my body floating in the river near our old home.
The pain had become too much. The sorrow was unbearable. Death, for me, was a release.
What I didn't expect was that on the third day, Julian received a call from the urn seller.

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