Parted by Death, Never to Meet Again

1
Seven years after I was thrown out of my home, I ran into my sister in a nightclub.
She was the VIP in the high-roller suite, dropping a fortune to celebrate her protgs birthday.
I was one of the atmosphere models, paid to keep the party going.
We didnt exchange a single word the entire night. Not until I was offered five hundred dollars to down two bottles of brandy in a row.
As I stood there, my face a ghostly white, she finally spoke, her lips a thin line, her voice dripping with ice.
"You'd rather do this disgusting work than come home and apologize?" she asked, her voice low and sharp. "Nathan, youve really made something of yourself."
I just offered a weak, indifferent smile and held out my hand.
"Five hundred dollars. Cash or Venmo?"
Time had washed away the sharp edges of our old feud. I had no energy left to argue.
But five hundred dollars was the exact amount I needed to pay the final installment on my urn.
The private room fell silent. Every eye was on me, a mixture of pity, amusement, and contempt.
Someone snickered.
My sister, Clarissa, her face flawlessly composed on the velvet sofa, instantly hardened.
She was humiliated.
Five hundred dollars. To people like her, it wasn't even enough for breakfast. Yet here I was, her brother, debasing myself for it by chugging liquor.
Her protg, a smug young man named Leo, sneered at me.
"Clarissa has been waiting for you to come home, and this is what you're doing? Don't you feel... dirty?"
I glanced at him. "I'm earning my money honestly. It's not like I'm sleeping with anyone. What's dirty about that?"
He laughed, a cold, dismissive sound. "Are you that desperate for cash? Fine. Drink two more bottles. I'll add another five hundred."
The onlookers, sensing blood in the water, started to join in.
"Yeah, drink up! If Leo's adding five hundred, so will I!"
"Count me in! I'll throw in a grand!"
I didn't hesitate. I reached for another bottle.
Just then, the door to the room swung open and the club manager bustled in, his face a mask of fawning concern. He pushed me aside and bowed slightly to my sister.
"Ms. Sterling, is there a problem? Did this employee do something to offend you?" he groveled. "Please, don't be angry. He's new, if he"
"Are you going to drink it for him?"
Clarissa's cold voice cut him off. Her eyes narrowed.
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 forced a strained laugh.
"That's so much liquor, Ms. Sterling. No one could actually drink all that. It could be fatal."
"Then get out."
Clarissas brow furrowed with impatience. She pulled a thick stack of cash from her handbagten thousand dollarsand slammed it onto the manager's chest.
"Nathan isn't leaving this room tonight. If you try to interfere again, you can kiss your club goodbye."
The manager fumbled with the money, his face breaking into a delirious grin. He stuffed the cash into his pocket, all concern for my well-being vanishing instantly. With a quick "thank you," he was gone.
All eyes were back on me.
Clarissas lips curled into a sneer. "What's wrong? Don't you want the money anymore?"
My face was a blank mask. I walked over, grabbed a bottle, and tipped it back.
I'd already had two, and my stomach was twisting like a knife was buried in it. I drank this one slowly, which earned me a chorus of jeers from the crowd.
Clarissa's expression grew darker with every agonizing swallow.
I finished the bottle and swayed, reaching for the next one. She shot up from the sofa and her hand clamped around my wrist like a vice.
"Are you trying to kill yourself, Nathan?!"
"I want the money."
I wrenched my arm free, grabbed the last bottle, and started to pour it down my throat.
I had a plan. The lighting was dim. I'd pretend my hand was unsteady, let some of it spill. No one would notice.
But I'd barely taken a sip when a hand cracked across my face.
The sharp slap sent my head ringing. The bottle slipped from my grasp and shattered on the floor.
Clarissa stood over me, her teeth clenched, her voice a furious hiss.
"Have you no shame? Is money all that matters to you?!"
"Stop it! You can drink yourself to death for all I care, but you won't get a single cent from me!"
The alcohol hit me then, a dizzying wave that made the world fracture into a kaleidoscope of colors.
And a voice, a memory I had buried for seven long years, exploded in my ear.
"You sold Mom's heirloom for money? Did I not feed you? Did I not clothe you? Why don't you sell yourself while you're at it!"
"Get out of my house! From this day forward, I don't have a brother!"
Seven years ago, Leo had set me up perfectly. He'd stolen our mother's emerald bracelet from Clarissa's room and sold it, then told her I was the one who did it.
She was incandescent with rage. She made me kneel in the snow for three days and three nights, demanding to know where I'd sold it.
But how could I know?
I told her it was Leo, that he was trying to drive a wedge between us, that he was jealous of the bond we shared.
She refused to believe me.
Theft. Disrespect. Stubbornness.
Three cardinal sins, each one a direct hit on her deepest values. Egged on by Leo's crocodile tears, she confiscated all my money and threw me out onto the street.
For the first six months, I did okay. I got a job in sales, enough to support myself with a little left over.
But then everything changed.
Clarissa made the one and only phone call she would make to me in seven years.
Her first words were: "Aren't you ready to come home and admit you were wrong? Just tell me where you sold the bracelet, and I'll forgive you."
I was still running on pride and fury. "I told you it wasn't me! Are you deaf? Ask your precious Leo! He's the one who sold it!"
She hung up. The next day, I was fired.
She put the word out across the entire city: anyone who hired me was making an enemy of her.
For the next six and a half years, I couldn't find a single legitimate job. My only option was to work as an atmosphere model in places like this.
It was like she was doing it all for show. She publicly announced that Leo was the sole heir to the Sterling corporation. She took him to interviews, galas, and auctions, showering him with lavish gifts, spending millions without a second thought. Their faces were constantly splashed across the financial news channels.
And I watched from the shadows, drinking myself into stomach cancer just to survive.
I spent the last few years seeing doctors, burning through every penny I had. I took out payday loans, but it was never enough. The experimental drugs were too expensive, and chemotherapy was a pipe dream.
I tried calling her once to borrow money. I'd barely gotten the words out before she cut me off.
"Money, money, money! Is that all you ever think about?" she'd spat. "Don't even think about getting a dime from me until you come home and apologize. You can die in a gutter for all I care!"
That was the phone call that extinguished the last flicker of hope.
I was so tired. Truly.
If she wanted me dead, then fine. I would die.
At least then, the pain would stop.
A month ago, I ordered myself an urn. I scraped together most of the cost, but I was still five hundred dollars short on the final payment. The owner called me almost every day, demanding the rest.
I thought I would finally have it tonight.
But Clarissa had given the manager ten thousand dollars without a thought, yet she wouldn't spare five hundred for me.
She swept out of the club with her entourage, leaving me to wretch my guts out in the bathroom.
Only one thought echoed in my mind.
Three bottles of brandy. All for nothing.
My shift supervisor was smoking a cigarette nearby. "What the hell did you do to Ms. Sterling? She looked ready to kill someone when she left. What's the deal between you two?"
My stomach was on fire, my head spinning. I could barely open my eyes, clinging to the toilet to keep from falling in.
"We don't know each other," I rasped. "Just enemies, I guess."
The next day, a phone call dragged me from a fitful sleep. It was the man from the urn shop.
"Mr. Sterling, when are you going to pay the remaining balance? It's five hundred dollars. Are you really going to drag this out for a month?"
"If you can't pay within three days, I'm selling it to someone else! And you're not getting your deposit back!"
My voice was a raw whisper. "Please, just give me a little more time. I get paid in two weeks, I can give it to you then"
"I can't wait two weeks!" he snapped. "I've never seen anyone like you, dragging your feet over buying an urn. If you don't have the money, why did you order such an expensive one in the first place?"
I tried to say something else, but he had already 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 calling to let you know, you don't need to come in today. Or ever again."
"And don't expect a final paycheck. Ms. Sterling gave the order. Our hands are tied."
A roar filled my ears. My voice was shrill with panic. "You can't do that! That's illegal! I'll report you to the labor board!"
The manager laughed. "Go ahead. Ms. Sterling said she'll assume full responsibility for any consequences. Her legal team is the best in the country. If you want to walk into that buzzsaw, be my guest."
He hung up.
A thick ball of rage and despair was lodged in my throat. My face was pale, and I could taste rust in my mouth. A sudden, violent cough, and a spray of crimson splattered onto my threadbare sheets.
I stared at the bright red stain, and the tears I'd been holding back for so long finally broke free.
After a long while, I mechanically wiped up the blood, then fumbled for my painkillers and swallowed them dry.
When I was done, I had no strength left. I leaned against the bed and thought about the last seven years. I realized, with a sudden, chilling clarity, that every escape route, every chance I had, had been systematically destroyed by my own sister.
Now, I couldn't even work at the club.
Eating was a problem, let alone paying for painkillers or an urn.
All I wanted was a beautiful place to rest when I died.
What was so wrong with that?
I buried my face in my hands and sobbed until the afternoon, when a sliver of strength returned. Looking at my trembling hands, I made a decision. I was going home.
I was going to ask Clarissa Sterling why. Why she had to do this to me.
She and Leo were in the middle of dinner when I arrived.
She glanced up at me, her voice flat. "So, you're finally willing to come back?"
"Why did you have the manager fire me?" I asked, my own voice just as devoid of emotion, ignoring her question completely. "Seven years. Haven't you humiliated me enough?"
She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "A little hardship is the only way you'll learn that home is where you belong. Nathan, do you have any idea what people are saying about you out there? The only reason you haven't heard the worst of it is because I've been suppressing the rumors. And you're still not grateful?"
Leo put down his fork, his tone oozing with false sympathy. "Clarissa, he just doesn't understand how much you do for him. Look at him. He's clearly blaming you."
"Shut up!"
I lunged at him, my hand raised to strike. But in the next second, Clarissa's arm shot out, blocking the blow. Her face was like stone.
"Now you're resorting to violence? I see you'll never learn your lesson." Her voice dropped, each word a frozen dagger. "Don't test me, Nathan. I can make it so you can't survive in this city."
My heart seized, as if caught in a brutal grip.
Can't survive?
Isn't that what she'd been doing for the past seven years? Destroying every job, extinguishing every flicker of hope, leaving me lower than a rat in the gutter, so broken I couldn't even afford my own grave.
I had enough. I was done with her threats.
My control shattered. "I DID NOTHING WRONG!" I screamed, the words tearing from my throat. "Clarissa, if you won't let me live, then fine! I'll die! Is that what you want?"
"I'll go to hell! You can't control me there, can you?"
My words seemed to trigger something in her. Her face twisted with rage.
"Even in death, you will forever be in my debt!"
She shoved me. It wasn't a hard push, but my body was weak. I stumbled backward, my lower back slamming against the sharp edge of the dining table. A white-hot pain exploded through me, and a cold sweat broke out all over my body.
A flicker of regret crossed Clarissa's face. She turned away. "Until Mom's heirloom is returned, you don't even have the right to die."
With that, she strode from the room.
I was in too much pain to get up. Leo stood over me, his arms crossed. "Look at you, big brother. So pathetic."
"How about this? You get on your knees, you beg me, and maybe I'll tell you who I sold that little trinket to. What do you say?"
My eyes burned with a hatred so intense I wanted to rip him apart. But I knew I didn't even have the strength to hit him.
Seven years of humiliation. And I couldn't even have a shred of dignity at the end.
Clarissa's words echoed in my head.
"Until Mom's heirloom is returned, you don't even have the right to die!"
"Even in death, you will forever be in my debt!"
Fine.
If I get the bracelet back, will you finally let me die in peace?
I wiped the tears from my face and, with the last of my will, I knelt at Leo's feet. I pressed my forehead to the cold floor. Once. Twice. Three times.
"I'm begging you. Tell me where Mom's bracelet is."
In the past, whenever he'd tricked me, I'd fought back with everything I had. But this time, I had nothing left.
Leo suddenly looked bored. The fight had gone out of me, and it was no longer fun for him. He tossed a slip of paper onto the floor.
"There's the address. But good luck getting your hands on it, brother."
Numbly, I picked up the paper. I found a public bike and rode to the address, a pawn shop in a remote, run-down part of the city. When I explained why I was there, the owner said nothing, simply retrieved the emerald bracelet from a safe.
Clearly, Leo had already arranged everything.
I felt nothing. I just wanted to give the bracelet back to Clarissa, to sever our ties once and for all.
But as I reached for it, the owner's hand let go a fraction of a second too soon.
With a sickening crack, the bracelet hit the floor and shattered into a dozen pieces.
I froze, the color draining from my face.
"Hey, kid! Why weren't you more careful?" the owner exclaimed. "That's not on me!"
"Nathan!"
Clarissa's furious voice came from behind me.
I whipped around and met Leo's triumphant gaze. He had his arm linked through hers.
"See, Clarissa? What did I tell you? He did it on purpose!" he said, his voice a pitch of faux-outrage. "He'd rather shatter Mom's bracelet than give you the satisfaction. And you were actually thinking of forgiving him!"
Clarissa didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes were glued to the glittering green fragments on the floor. She walked forward, her movements stiff and heavy. She knelt, and for a long moment, she just stared. Then, slowly, she began to pick up the pieces, her knuckles white as she clutched them in her palm.
"It wasn't me," I whispered, a desperate panic rising in my chest. "He dropped it. And I never sold it in the first place..."
At the sound of my voice, she shot to her feet and slapped me, hard.
The force of the blow sent me sprawling to the ground. The pain in my stomach flared, my cheek burned, and involuntary tears streamed down my face.
Her chest heaved, her face a terrifying mask of fury.
"You still dare to make excuses? For seven years, I gave you a chance! I told myself, if you just come home, just tell me where Mom's bracelet is, I'll forgive you."
"But what did you do?" she screamed, losing her composure in a way I had never seen before. "Nathan, you don't deserve to be a Sterling. And you certainly don't deserve to be my brother!"
Her words sent my heart plummeting into a black abyss.
I felt a hot, metallic taste in my throat and swallowed hard, forcing the blood back down.
My voice was a choked sob. "What if... what if I was really dying?"
"Stop with the pity party," she spat, her eyes filled with disgust. She was squeezing the broken emeralds so tightly that blood began to drip from her palm. "Even if you were to drop dead right now, I wouldn't feel a thing."
"Okay."
I clenched my fists and shakily pushed myself to my feet.
In that moment, something inside me settled.
I was already dying.
The feuds, the debts, the blame... none of it mattered anymore.
If she wanted to believe I did it all, then fine. I did it.
After I'm gone, I'll be nothing but a box of ashes. None of this will have any meaning.
I let out a bitter laugh and turned to leave.
"Where do you think you're going?" she yelled after me. "Will you not be happy until you've driven me to my grave?"
I didn't look back. My voice drifted over my shoulder.
"You don't have to die. I will."
For the next two days, Clarissa didn't contact me.
She took the bracelet to a master jeweler, only to be told that no matter how it was repaired, it would never be the same. The flawed, patched-together result only fueled her rage.
On the first day, she held a press conference and publicly disowned me. Her face was a cold, emotionless mask.
"From this day forward, I will no longer be involved in Nathan Sterling's affairs," she announced to the stunned media. "Whatever job he takes, even if he sells his body, I will not interfere. I only ask that no one ever mention his name in my presence again. The sound of it makes me sick."
She was ruthless. My name was struck from the family registry that same day.
On the second day, she took Leo to the family mausoleum. She had his surname legally changed to Sterling and formally acknowledged him as the heir.
A concerned relative asked her, "Is this really necessary? Nathan is still your brother. What if something happens to him?"
Clarissa's lips were a thin, hard line. Her tone was mocking.
"What could happen? I've spent seven years crushing him, and he's still alive and kicking, isn't he?"
"He won't die. He doesn't have the guts. And he wouldn't have the courage to face Mom."
Unfortunately for her, she was wrong again.
Because I was right there beside her, in spirit form.
I had been dead for two days. I drowned myself in the river near our old home.
The pain, both physical and emotional, had become unbearable. Death was a release.
But on the third day, something I never expected happened. Clarissa received a phone call from the owner of the urn shop.
He was practically shouting into the phone.
"Are you Nathan Sterling's sister? He listed you as his emergency contact, so don't try to deny it!"
"Your brother ordered an urn from me, and he still hasn't paid the final balance. Do you want it or not?"

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