80 Degrees and a Dead Man

As my soul drifted from my body and floated out of the basement, I expected to be hit by a wave of heat so intense it could melt flesh.

Instead, I was greeted by a blast of cold air from the air conditioner, a chill that made my spectral form shiver.

In the living room, Liam was sprawled on the sofa, clapping his hands and roaring with laughter. "This is brilliant! My 'brother' actually bought that whole scorching apocalypse story. He's hopelessly stupid!"

My wife, Isabelle, scoffed from beside him. "Serves him right for always lording his 'true heir' status over you, Liam. Now he knows who's in charge."

My son, Charlie, was clinging to Liams arm, his voice a childish chime. "Don't worry, Daddy Liam. I'll protect you. I won't let that bad man take your things anymore!"

But the sight that truly chilled me to the bone was my sister, Victoria. The sister who I thought had perished from thirst in the imaginary heatwave. She was sitting right next to Liam, carefully peeling grapes and feeding them to him. "Don't you worry, Liam. If he ever tries to bully you again, I'll cut him out of my life for good."

The thermostat read a mild eighty degrees, but I felt as if Id been plunged into a frozen lake.

The so-called scorching apocalypse, from beginning to end, was nothing but an elaborate hoax designed to break me.

All of them, my entire family, had conspired to help this imposter get his revenge on me.

I thought back to thirty days ago, when Victoria had "died" in the fictional heat.

I had left the last bottle of water for my wife and son, scrawling a final note: If I die, you can live a few days longer.

Then, I had sliced open my own wrist.

Now, that bottle of water, that suicide note, my own deathit all felt like a colossal, cosmic joke.

I hovered in the air, a weightless observer of my own demise.

I looked down at myself, a broken figure lying in a pool of my own blood. My lips were cracked and split from dehydration, my cheeks hollowed out by starvation. On my wrist, beneath the fresh, fatal wound, were several older, deeper scars. Scars from a few weeks ago, when Victoria was "dying of thirst," and I had desperately cut my own arm, trying to get her to drink my blood.

It was all fake.

In the entire house, I was the only one suffering through the end of the world.

Liam sipped on an ice-cold Coke, his eyes filled with mock pity as he looked at Isabelle and Charlie. "It's so hot out. I can't believe you two have to suffer in that basement with him. It's torture."

"Why don't we... stage another scene?" he suggested. "You could fake your deaths, just like Victoria did. Then you'd never have to go back."

Charlie's face lit up, and he was about to agree.

"No," Isabelle said sharply.

For a fleeting, foolish moment, I thought she was saying it out of concern for me.

Then she frowned, her eyes filled with disgust. "Connor is too cunning. If we didn't go back, he'd get suspicious and come looking for us. The whole thing would be ruined."

"We agreed to lock him up for a full month to teach him a lesson for what he did to you, Liam. Not a day less," she said firmly. "It's only one more day. We can wait."

A month.

A cold dread washed over my soul, making it tremble.

Liam had framed me, claiming Id pushed him down the stairs and broken his leg. He was in the hospital for exactly one month. Victoria had slapped me across the face on the spot. To get back at Liam's "attacker," she shoved me down a flight of stairs herself. As I lay in a pool of my own blood with multiple fractures, it was Isabelle who rushed me to the hospital, her face etched with worry.

She had sworn she didn't care about the accusations, that she would always believe me.

But in the end, she was still in on it, still punishing me for something I never did.

And my son, the boy I had raised with all my love, was now cuddling up to Liam, whining.

"I don't wanna go back! I don't want that selfish, evil man to be my daddy! I want to be with Daddy Liam forever!"

His clear, childish voice was a poisoned dagger, plunging straight into my heart. Even in death, the pain was visceral, tearing me apart.

A flicker of triumph crossed Liam's face, but he feigned sympathy, stroking Charlie's hair. "Don't be angry, Charlie. Your aunt Victoria already posted the security footage online. Everyone is on our side now, teaching him a lesson for me!"

In that instant, I felt a new kind of cold, a deep, soul-level chill. I looked at my sister in disbelief.

She smiled and held up a tablet. On the screen was a video with over a million views.

It was a compilation of my last month in the basement.

The comment section was a flood of vitriol.

"I heard this guy is the nanny's son. Not only did he steal the real heir's wife and kid, but he's trying to steal his identity too!"

"Thank God the sister is standing up for the real heir, locking that scum in the basement to give him what he deserves."

"Shameless bastard. He should just die and spare the world his presence."

Reading the hateful words on the screen, my heart grew colder and colder.

Liam was the nanny's son. His mother had switched us at birth. I had spent my childhood in the countryside, enduring endless abuse and neglect before my wealthy parents finally found me and brought me home. But on the way back, they were killed in a car crash. From that day on, Victoria hated me.

"If you hadn't insisted on coming back, Mom and Dad would still be alive!" she would scream.

Her hatred and prejudice blinded her. No matter what happened, she always took Liam's side. When I showed her the scars from my childhood abuse, she just sneered. "Liar! You're just making that up to frame Liam's mother!"

When Liam deliberately tore his own suit and cried that I had done it, she didn't even ask for my side of the story. She ripped all of my clothes to shreds and locked me in a closet for three days.

With Victoria's unwavering support, Liam's games became more and more frequent. Over time, her patience with me wore away completely, replaced by a deep-seated loathing.

"Connor," she had spat at me once, "why wasn't it you who died? I never should have brought you back!"

She had forgotten. The only reason the nanny had the chance to switch us was because Victoria, as a child, had wandered off and left me alone.

Seeing the smug smile on her face now, a knife twisted in my gut.

Charlie tapped the screen, playing the most-viewed clip.

It was a video of me on my hands and knees, licking condensation off a rusty pipe to save our drinking water for Isabelle and Charlie. The water was filthy, tainted with rust, but I lapped it up greedily, as if it were the finest nectar.

The comments mocked me, calling me disgusting and pathetic for drinking sewer water.

A lump formed in my throat. Tears I could no longer shed burned behind my eyes.

We should have had enough water. But Charlie had thrown a tantrum, demanding a cold soda, and had deliberately knocked over one of our precious water bottles. By the time I noticed, the puddle had already evaporated, leaving me with no choice but to lick the rusty pipes.

At the time, Isabelle and Charlie had just looked at me with annoyance. "It's just one bottle of water. Do you have to be so dramatic?"

But all I could think was: If I drink a little less, they can last a little longer.

My mind was filled with love, with sacrifice.

To them, it was just weakness. Pathetic.

They had been lying all along. All of them. Hiding behind a screen, watching me struggle like a dying animal, watching me abandon my dignity just to survive. They recorded my suffering and broadcast it to the world, turning me into a laughingstock.

I had never felt such despair.

Suddenly, someone in the comments noticed something. "Is the video frozen? Why is he just lying in the corner, not moving?"

Victoria and Isabelle paused, zooming in on today's live feed.

The next second, they saw me, motionless in a pool of blood.

Their faces went white.

"Connor!"

They scrambled toward the basement, about to break down the door.

But Liam, a flicker of venom in his eyes, stepped in front of them. His voice was soft, innocent. "Victoria, Isabelle, wait... I think I saw him buy some fake blood props a while back."

"He's a clever one," Liam continued, planting the seed of doubt. "He's probably faking it to make you feel sorry for him, to trick you into letting him out early. If you go in there now, you'll be playing right into his hands. He'll use this 'apocalypse' prank to hold over your heads forever!"

Victoria froze. Isabelle hesitated, a flicker of suspicion in her eyes.

Seeing his chance, Liam tugged on Charlie's sleeve. "Charlie saw him with the fake blood that day, didn't you, buddy?"

To my utter horror, my son nodded without a moment's hesitation.

"Yes! It's all fake! Dad bought it from a movie prop store!"

In that moment, what was left of my heart turned to dust.

Victoria exploded with rage. She kicked the basement door with all her might. "You ungrateful bastard! We've spoiled you so rotten you'd even fake your own death to trick us?"

"If you hadn't crippled Liam, would he have been in the hospital for a month? You owe him this! You still don't get it, do you? Get out here and apologize to Liam!"

Isabelle's face was a stony mask as she stared at the monitor. "Connor, how dare you lie to me in front of our son? What kind of father are you?"

"Stop the act. Just come out, apologize to Liam, and swear you'll never bully him again, and we can put this behind us," she said, her voice cold. "The three of us can finally be a proper family."

I stared at her, invisible tears falling to the floor. Isabelle, there is no 'us' anymore.

When there was still no movement from inside, their frustration curdled into fury.

Victoria kicked the door again, her voice a disgusted snarl. "Connor! If you don't want to come out, then you can stay in there forever! Rot in there for all I care!"

Isabelle scooped up Charlie, took Liam's hand, and walked away without looking back. "Liam, he's gone too far this time."

"What do you want? I'll buy you anything you want right now to make up for this."

As they left, Liam shot a triumphant, mocking glance back at the basement door.

The house fell silent, leaving me trapped, my soul drowning in an endless, cold despair.

Two weeks passed. They never came back to the basement.

Because of Charlie's lie, Isabelle remained convinced I was just throwing a tantrum. In a fit of pique, she had my clothes and belongings thrown out of the house. Victoria took down our family portraits, replacing them with photos of her and Liam.

They openly moved Liam into my home, into my life. To spite me, they instructed the staff to address him as "Mr. Ashworth." Any servant who dared to mention my name was fired on the spot. They were systematically erasing me, trying to force me out of hiding to beg for Liam's forgiveness.

But only I knew the truth. I was already dead. I was never coming out of that basement.

Liam, now the master of the house, held Isabelle in his arms, his voice laced with false concern. "Connor is being so stubborn. Still holding a grudge after all this time."

"What do you think he'll do when he finally comes out and sees how things have changed? Will he blame me?"

Victoria sneered. "He's the one who's being childish, picking a fight with our Liam. He has no right to be angry."

Charlie squeezed Liam's hand, raising a small fist. "Don't be scared, Daddy Liam. I'm here. I won't let that bad man hurt you!"

Isabelle's face was dark, her lips twisted in a contemptuous smirk. "If he dares to cause a scene, I'll have to seriously reconsider whether he's fit to be my Mr. Ashworth."

A calculating glint appeared in Liam's eyes.

That night, an anonymous online post went viral, outing Liam as an imposter and a homewrecker who had stolen my place. Isabelle and Victoria frantically tried to get it taken down, but it was too late. It was the top trending topic in the city.

A maid rushed in, her voice shrill with panic. "Ma'am! It's Mr. Liam! He couldn't take the online attacks... he tried to kill himself!"

They raced to his room and found him on the bed, a few shallow, superficial scratches on his wrist.

They reacted as if he were dying, rushing him to the hospital. All the way there, Charlie clung to his hand, sobbing. "Daddy Liam, please be okay! Please don't die!"

The doctor quickly bandaged the minor cuts. Liam lay in the hospital bed, his eyes red-rimmed, the picture of a tragic victim.

"Isabelle... Victoria... don't blame Connor," he whispered weakly. "It's all my fault. I'm the one who took his place. He has every right to hate me."

That was all it took. Victoria erupted. "That bastard! How dare he do this to you! He should have just rotted in that basement!"

Isabelle's face was livid, her eyes filled with a new level of hatred for me. "Don't you worry, Liam. I'm going to drag him here right now and make him kneel at your feet and beg for forgiveness!"

She called my phone dozens of times. Of course, there was no answer.

Finally, in a rage, she called my assistant. His voice trembled on the other end of the line. "Mrs. Ashworth... Mr. Ashworth hasn't been to the office in two weeks. We've lost several major projects..."

"It was Mr. Liam," the assistant stammered. "He told me not to tell you, he said he didn't want you to worry..."

Liam immediately started crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "I thought he was just being moody," he sobbed. "I thought he'd be back in a few days. I never thought he'd actually abandon his responsibilities."

"He can hurt me all he wants," he choked out, "but the company... that's your life's work! He's gone too far! Victoria, Isabelle, you have to do something!"

Isabelle's face was grim, her disappointment hardening into pure fury. "That bastard! It wasn't enough to ruin your reputation, now he's trying to ruin our company? Unforgivable!"

Charlie's face was red with anger. "Bad man! He hurt Daddy Liam! He's not my daddy anymore!"

Victoria was trembling with rage. "I'm disowning him! From now on, Liam is my only brother!"

I heard all of this, but I was numb. The pain was gone, replaced by a cold emptiness.

I floated above them as they called a press conference.

"The online posts are lies, fabricated by Connor Ashworth to frame our Liam!" Victoria declared.

Isabelle held up a photo of herself and Liam. "My husband has always been Liam! Connor is the one who has been obsessively stalking me!"

Victoria produced a doctored birth certificate. "Liam is my biological brother! Connor is an imposter trying to steal the life and love that rightfully belongs to him!"

Charlie clung to Liam's arm and shouted at the cameras. "My only daddy is Liam! I don't even know that bad man, Connor!"

The cameras flashed. The crowd roared its outrage.

"How can someone be so shameless!"

"Get out of our city, Connor Ashworth! You homewrecking piece of trash!"

Listening to the symphony of hatred directed at me, a smug, triumphant smile spread across Liam's face.

Suddenly, the wail of sirens cut through the noise. The doors to the conference hall burst open.

Police officers walked purposefully toward the stage. One of them held up an evidence bag containing a blood-stained dagger.

"We found Mr. Ashworth's body in the basement of your residence."

The officer's voice was flat, professional. "We suspect you may be involved in a murder investigation. Please come with us."