Three Days Left to Live After My Suicide

The diagnosis was cancer. Testicular cancer. The surgerya radical orchiectomywas performed by my own mother, Diana Westcott, the Chief of Surgery at Veridian Citys most prestigious hospital.

I was barely out of the anesthesia when I heard the low voices of the assistant surgeon and a nurse.

Professor Westcott actually went through with it, tricking her own son just to appease the little foster darling.

I know, right? And his wife, Blair, authorized it. They say hes completely gutted now, missing two key parts. Hes ruined.

My body seized in a cold tremor. The first thing I did when I could move was try to crawl up and demand an explanation.

My wife, Blair Kincaid, didn't even flinch. She was tucked against Jude Ashton, her foster son, and the smile she gave me was utterly ruthless.

Whats wrong, Cal? You spent years mocking Jude for being frail and sickly. Its about time you learned a lesson, dont you think?

I stumbled forward, only to be shoved back onto the surgical table by my own mother.

Stop this nonsense, Calvin! Dianas voice was sharp with annoyance. Judes story is heartbreaking. You have everything. Losing two small organs is a negligible price to pay for what you have.

My son, Brooks, the genius Id raised, chimed in with a chillingly casual tone.

Seriously, Dad. Looking at you now, its about time you just let Mom go.

It was then, in that moment of absolute, soul-crushing betrayal, that the systemmy long-dormant link to my real lifeflickered back online.

[Host, your Redemption Quest has been confirmed as complete. Do you wish to immediately initiate soul-return to your original world?]

A slow, profoundly relieved smile stretched across my face.

If this deep, all-consuming act of devotion and rescue was a lie from the very beginning, why should I care what happens to them?

I hit the confirmation button instantly. The systems cold, metallic voice was the sweetest sound Id ever heard.

[Soul-return confirmed. Upon your physical demise, everyone in this fictional world will be erased in three days. Initiating exit portal. Award: $700 Million USD plus permanent health confirmation in the original world.]

...

Hearing the reward, my heart was flooded with pure, ecstatic anticipation. Home.

I staggered to my feet, the simple act of walking sending agonizing, post-surgical pain shooting through my body. I made for the window.

I looked out at the glittering skyline of Veridian City. Millions of lights, yet not a single one had ever shone for me. That thought alone made me quicken my pace.

A mocking voice sliced through the silence.

I turned my head. It was my son, Brooks.

Dad, you should be resting. Why are you climbing up there? He folded his arms, unimpressed. Youre not an actor. Who are you putting on this dramatic Im going to end it all performance for?

A performance? I stared deeply into his face, searching for any flicker of genuine emotion. Tell me, Brooks, who was really performing for whom?

His reply was effortless. This is hardly a trick. It was a simple misdiagnosis by Grandma. You dont have cancer, so youre not going to die. You can stay right here with us. Isnt that great news?

Oh, right. I was supposed to be celebrating the dismantling of the life Id built.

I turned back to the window.

The night wind was a sharp, biting chill.

I had stepped onto that surgical table to live. I was stepping onto this ledge to die and truly live again.

Without hesitation, I leaned out, ready to fall.

But the relief of the drop never came.

Brooks had pressed the emergency call button and was now dragging me back, his teenage grip surprisingly strong.

Dad! What are you doing? Hold on to me!

Let go, I rasped, the word tearing out of my throat.

Brooks clenched his jaw, veins popping in his neck. I wont!

Dad, theyre just body parts. Its not a big deal. Mom said shed never abandon you, no matter what.

I was sick of their calculated lies.

I thrashed my arms, trying to shake him off.

His eyes went red with panic, and he pleaded through a sob, Can you really bear to leave me, Dad? To die alone?

I looked up at the boy I had raised with my own hands. The terror in his eyes looked convincingly genuine.

I yanked hard. My gaze was ice.

If you cant bear to let me go, then come down and join me.

I pulled with all my strength, twisting his body outward.

The blood drained from his face. He finally released his grip, his strength completely failing him. He was truly scared.

I felt my body slowly slipping down, and just as I thought freedom was mine, a powerful force yanked me back.

Security guards and nurses had rushed in, surrounding me.

Damn it. I was one step too slow.

Torn from the window, I collapsed on the bed, exhausted.

Brooks was hysterical, shaking and weeping.

Before I could fully process the failure, Blair burst into the room.

She pushed through the crowd, stopping right beside me.

Smack.

The sound echoed. My head snapped to the side.

Are you insane, Cal?

Her eyes were bloodshot. She grabbed my collar, her face inches from mine.

Brooks is our flesh and blood! You tried to drag him to his death just to prove a point?! Calvin Westcott, how long are you going to keep this up? Do you have no heart at all?

I choked on the bitter irony of her question and let out a single, cold laugh.

I have no heart?

Who told me I had cancer?

Who put me through pointless chemotherapy when I was perfectly healthy?

Who ordered my body to be mutilated, all under the guise of treatment, just to appease the fragile feelings of her foster son?

I managed a pained, hollow smile, looking at my own body, weakened and ravaged by unnecessary procedures.

But I was too tired to explain. I simply didn't care anymore.

My silence seemed to fuel Blair's impatience.

She ordered the guards to lift me. If you dont want to be in this hospital, then youre coming home with me!

Numbly, I allowed myself to be dragged and shoved into the car. Only one thought remained: I had to find a chance to completely escape this world.

The lights of Veridian City flew by. The urban warmth was palpable, yet there was no place for me in that life.

As the car sped up a desolate hillside road, I suddenly reached for the door handle.

Are you trying to get yourself killed?! Blair roared, grabbing my arm.

The driver swerved violently, the sedan carving a sickening arc on the road.

I put all my remaining strength into pushing the door open. A blast of icy air flooded the car.

Without a second thought, I pushed my weak body out.

Just as I was about to tumble onto the asphalt, Blair, fueled by a terrifying, primal strength, yanked me back and pinned me down.

The car, completely out of control, slammed violently into the mountainside guardrail.

The impact threw us forward.

Blairs forehead hit the dashboard, and blood immediately streamed down her face. She fixed me with an icy, contained rage.

You want to die that badly?

I looked at her, my answer firm. Yes.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but the acrid smell of gasoline hit our nostrils.

Blairs face paled. She looked for the driver, who had already abandoned the vehicle and fled.

Panicked, she ignored the cut on her head and fought to pull me out.

I had no survival instinct left, even hoping the flames would arrive sooner.

Just go. Leave me.

She didn't hear me. She was frantically wrestling with the seat mechanism that had trapped my legs.

When she finally pulled me free, her fingers were bloody, but she didnt seem to feel the pain. She dragged my dead weight out of the wreck.

The instant we cleared the car, there was a deafening explosion. A monstrous column of fire swallowed the expensive German sedan.

The heat washed over us. Blair gasped for air, her eyes blazing red.

Let me tell you something, Calvin Westcott, and listen carefully.

You do not get to die without my permission!

The scene was a chilling echo of years ago, when we were trapped in a blazing warehouse after a clash with a rival syndicate. I had taken a bullet for her, collapsing at her feet. Back then, she had cried and said:

Cal, hold on. Im here. I wont let you die.

I lived by that promise. I bled and fought for her, carving a path out of the shadows and using the full power of the Westcott name to help her become the unrivaled queen of Veridian Citys underworld and high society.

Now, the same scenario only filled me with sickening irony.

I dont remember how I got back to the penthouse suite.

As soon as we walked in, the warm, jovial atmosphere hit mea stark contrast to my own frozen state.

Jude Ashton was there, blowing on a bowl of artisanal bone broth. My mother, Diana, hovered behind him, her eyes full of doting concern. Slow down, Jude. Dont burn yourself.

Youre too thin, sweetheart. You need to gain some weight.

Seeing us, particularly Blair, covered in blood and soot, Jude rushed over.

Blair, what happened? Youre hurt!

He glanced at mea quick look of contempt, which he instantly softened into pity.

It must be Cal. Don't be too hard on him. He probably cant accept... the reality of his condition. We need to be compassionate.

I couldnt stop myself. I lunged and landed a solid punch on his jaw.

Shut up! What right do you have to stand there and play the saint?

Jude stumbled back, shock and pain evident in his eyes.

Almost simultaneously, my mother threw herself forward, slapping me hard, and pulling Jude protectively behind her.

Enough! she shrieked.

Look at you! Youre supposed to be the heir to the Westcott name. We indulged you too much, and now you think you can terrorize Jude! A simple orchiectomy was meant to teach you discipline. Instead, you throw a suicidal tantrum!

I stared at her, the woman who had once loved me fiercely, and asked the question that killed my last ounce of hope.

Is this why you lied about my having a fatal illness? To put me through that just for him?

She didn't answer. Guilt? No, maybe just a twisted sense of righteousness.

When I entered this world, Diana was a grieving widow, constantly fighting off rivals who wanted to seize my fathers empire. The System sent me to 'redeem' her. For a long time, we were each other's salvation. I had even considered giving up my mission to stay.

But the moment I brought in Judethe poor, smart medical student Id sponsoredeveryone around me turned. My slightest criticism of Jude was instantly interpreted as abuse or jealousy. They would willingly see me crippled and hurt just to appease him.

I let out a bitter laugh and reached for the silver letter opener on the coffee table.

I failed again.

Blair reacted like lightning, snatching the opener away.

Calvin Westcott, are you addicted to using death as a bargaining chip?

Her tone was frigid. She jammed the point of the opener back into my hand, pressing it against her own chest.

If you want to die, you have to kill me first! Go on. Do it! I dare you!

I released the opener, my arm falling uselessly to my side. Why, Blair? Why do this?

She stared at me, stubbornly defiant.

Cal, I know you still care about me. Just stop antagonizing Jude. Even if you cant... be a man in the traditional sense, you will always be my husband.

The air thickened with silent contempt.

In the next second, my mother stepped forward and yanked the heavy, engraved signet ringthe heirloom symbolizing the Westcott inheritancefrom my finger.

Her eyes were filled with cold disappointment.

In this state, you are utterly unfit to be the Westcott heir.

The words that followed were the final nail in the coffin.

When you and your father were in that accident, I had to choose who lived. If I had known you would become this soft, suicidal man, I never should have saved you.

My heart didn't just break; it dissolved. Lying on the cold marble floor, I laughed until tears streamed down my face.

Right in front of me, Diana placed the signet ring into Judes hand.

That night, I was locked away in the panic roomthe reinforced cellarto prevent any further attempts at escape or death.

Jude used "psychological therapy" as an excuse to gain unrestricted access to me.

Jude, Cals very unstable right now. Youre a doctor. Im relying on you to keep him calm, Blair said, massaging her temples, relieved to pass off the responsibility.

But she didn't see the veneer drop the moment the heavy steel door closed.

Jude kicked me, aiming for the area of my recent surgery, forcing me to look at him.

You know what, Calvin? I always hated that arrogant, high-and-mighty look on your face.

He leaned closer, his voice a mocking whisper. Now, youre not even a man. What gives you the right to compete with me anymore?

I struggled weakly. He simply chuckled and plunged a cold needle into my arm.

Dont worry, big brother. You want to die, but I wont let you. I will keep you alive. And I will make you so weak, youll live under my shadow like a perfectly obedient dog.

I lost track of how many days passed.

Then, Brooks crept in, holding a takeout container of artisanal soup, his eyes widening at the sight of my skeletal, wasted body.

Perhaps the sight of my living death finally triggered some guilt.

His eyes were red. He clumsily spooned the soup to my lips. Dad please, just eat something.

I turned my head away from the spoon, only able to manage a faint, broken whisper.

... just let me die

Brookss hand, holding the spoon, trembled violently.

My refusal felt like a personal insult to him. His face instantly contorted with anger.

Always this! You use this hunger strike to make us suffer! To make Mom and me feel guilty, right?

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the flood of memories: his face when he slept, the contented expression; tossing him up and down while he squealed, "Daddy is Superman!"

I relinquished it all. I didn't want any of it.

After a long silence, I squeezed a single word from my throat.

Get out.

Brookss tears finally spilled over. He spun around and ran out.

He didn't close the door properly.

Perhaps it was a final burst of adrenaline, but I found the strength to drag myself, inch by painful inch, out of the cellar.

The main hall was brightly lit, buzzing with people.

It was their victory party.

Center stage, the three people I had loved were gathered around Jude Ashton, forming a perfect, happy family portrait.

Jude, the triumphant victor, was wearing a bespoke suit, holding my fathers Westcott signet ring.

Jude, from this day forward, all the Westcott assets and influence in Veridian City belong to you, Diana announced to the gathered guests, patting his shoulder.

Blair stood beside him, leaning delicately against his chest, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You deserve this, Jude.

Even my son, Brooks, looked up at him with clear admiration.

Thank you, Uncle Jude, for taking such good care of our family.

Rage obliterated the last of my sanity. I scrambled down the last flight of stairs.

Give it back to me!

I lunged at Jude, desperate to grab the ring. In the struggle, the heavy, engraved crest shattered into two pieces.

The hall went silent.

A second later, Jude began to laugha triumphant, cruel sound. Hahaha! Even the heirloom rejects you, you useless cripple!

Blair threw me off her foster son, and I crashed into a tall pyramid of champagne glasses.

She put Jude behind her and faced the stunned crowd, her expression terrifyingly cold.

Please excuse us, ladies and gentlemen.

My husband hes had a difficult time accepting the physical changes after his cancer surgery. Hes been receiving psychiatric treatment.

In a few quick sentences, she publicly branded me as a volatile madman.

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

Hes actually insane? No wonder

Ms. Kincaid is so strong, managing the empire and having to carry that dead weight.

Young Master Jude is a godsend. Its right that Diana gave him the ring.

The cutting words finally stopped my struggle.

I stopped crying. I stopped lashing out. I simply looked at them.

Blair Kincaid, I said, my voice flat. One should never forget ones origins. Have you forgotten how I built you into the woman you are today?

Then, I turned to Diana.

Mother no, Ms. Westcott. Do you truly think simply wearing my fathers name gives you the right to steal his legacy? You know how much he loved you. Yet you betray his memory and trick your own flesh-and-blood, leaving me a castrated shell, all for an imposter. Does your conscience let you sleep at night?

The hall erupted in commotion. The family advisors looked uneasy.

I reached out, my fingers closing around a handgun a security guard had foolishly left holstered on his hip.

Without a moment of doubt, I pressed the muzzle to my temple and smileda final, genuine, liberated smile.

The sound of the shot was deafening. I heard the Systems cold prompt one last time.

[Physical demise detected. Initiating exit portal immediately.]