Born to Serve, Reborn to Destroy

§PROLOGUE

The last thing I saw was my brother's face, twisted into a mask of pure rage.

The knife in his hand was the same one I’d used to cut his birthday cake just last week.

If you can't afford the down payment, why did you even have me?! he screamed, his voice cracking with a grotesque sense of entitlement.

My parents, the architects of this monster, cowered by the door.

They didn’t try to stop him.

They just watched as the boy I had raised plunged the blade into my chest.

As the world faded to black, their final betrayal was the only thing I felt.

They had signed the waiver, absolving their precious son of all responsibility.

In the end, I was the only one injured in a world they had built just for him.

§01

"Wow, that little boy is so adorable. I want one too."

The words slipped out of my mouth, a polite, meaningless courtesy to our neighbor.

But in my parents’ eyes, they were a binding contract.

Last time, that single sentence led to a summer vacation homecoming where I was presented with a brand-new baby brother.

"You wished for him, so he's your responsibility now!" they'd declared, instantly becoming hands-off spectators to their own parenthood.

From his homework to his job, from his first car to the down payment on his house, everything became my burden.

And in the end, my inability to afford that house got me killed by his hand.

But this time, as I opened my eyes, I was back on that fateful afternoon.

Mrs. Gable was in our living room, beaming, her grandson Luke hiding behind her legs.

My mother’s eyes were fixed on me, a hunter tracking its prey. "Cassie," she cooed, "look how cute little Luke is. If you had a sweet little brother like that, I'd be the happiest mom in the world!"

A cold smile touched my lips.

They didn't need my wish.

I knew for a fact the "little brother" was already a four-month-old tenant in my mother's womb.

This whole charade, this little stage play with the neighbor, was just to trick me into saying the magic words.

The words that would chain his entire existence to me.

Mrs. Gable gave her grandson a gentle nudge. "Go on, Luke. Say hi to the pretty lady. Let her give you a hug."

The boy looked at me with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

"See, Cassie?" Mrs. Gable pressed on, the perfect accomplice. "Such a sweetheart. You should tell your mom to get you one."

My mother held her breath, her whole body leaning forward, her face a desperate billboard screaming, *Just say you want a brother!*

I let the silence hang for a moment, then smiled brightly. "Wow, he really is adorable. I do want…"

My parents’ faces lit up with triumphant glee.

"…a luxury villa!"

"And a sports car and a yacht!"

"And to study abroad in Europe!"

"And ten billion dollars in cash!"

The living room fell dead silent.

Mrs. Gable’s smile froze on her face. My mother’s jaw dropped. My father, in the middle of pouring tea, flinched, splashing hot liquid all over the coffee table.

"What on earth are you talking about, young lady!" my mother finally sputtered, her face burning with a mixture of embarrassment and fury.

My father’s face was a thundercloud. He slammed the teapot down. "That's enough, Cassie. We’re talking about something serious here."

I blinked, feigning innocence. "What serious thing?"

"Mrs. Gable asked if you wanted a little brother. What do you think?"

I played dumb. "You mean, if I want one, I can have one?"

"Of course," my parents said in unison, their hopes reignited. "Anything you want, we'll do our best to make it happen for you."

"That’s wonderful!" I clapped my hands together. "So, about that luxury villa, the yacht, studying abroad, and the ten billion in cash… which one are we starting with?"

Silence.

I raised my voice, a relentless, cheerful hammer. "I SAID! I WANT A LUXURY VILLA! I WANT A SPORTS CAR AND A YACHT!"

"ENOUGH!" my mother shrieked, her mask of maternal love finally shattering.

§02

Mrs. Gable, mortified, mumbled an excuse and practically dragged her grandson out of our house.

The moment the door clicked shut, my mother was in my face, her voice a strained whisper.

"Cassie, be honest with me. Do you want a baby brother or not?"

"No," I said, the word a clean, sharp blade.

"But I’m thinking of you! Another sibling means you’ll have someone to count on in the future," she said, trying to paint a rosy picture of family bonds.

"I have friends. I'll have a partner. I don’t need a brother messing things up," I replied flatly, taking a loud, defiant bite of an apple.

My father stepped in, his voice heavy with patriarchal authority. "What do you know? When you get married, if you don't have a brother at home to back you up, you’ll be bullied by your in-laws!"

"Oh, well then I just won't get married," I mumbled through a mouthful of apple, the words perfectly clear. "Just date. Way less complicated."

My mother blurted out the truth without thinking. "Even better! Then your brother can take care of you in your old age!"

Bingo.

The real motive, stripped bare.

They didn't care about my happiness. They just wanted a son.

I gave them a smile that was all teeth. "If I have to rely on him for my retirement, I might as well go die right now."

"Even if you don't think about yourself, think about us!" my father thundered. "A son is the ultimate trump card! Without one, people walk all over us. Your mother and I have been pushed around our whole lives. It's time we had some respect!"

I fired back without missing a beat. "Don't worry. By the time your 'trump card' is all grown up, you'll be in your seventies. At that age, nobody will dare to push you around. In fact, if you fall over, no one will even dare to help you up!"

My father’s face turned a deep, blotchy red. He slammed his hand on the table.

"How dare you! Is that how you speak to your parents? We're having a son, it’s the natural order of things! We raised you, fed you, clothed you! It's not your place to tell us what to do!"

So the act was finally over.

I placed the apple core on the table and wiped my hands with slow, deliberate precision.

"You should have just said so from the beginning. Why drag me into it? What's the matter…"

I leaned forward, my eyes locking onto their flitting, guilty gazes.

"…are you planning to have him and then dump him on me to raise? Make me the free, lifelong nanny and ATM for your perfect little family of three?"

Their expressions crumpled, the raw truth hitting them like a physical blow.

My father, trembling with rage, pointed a finger at me.

"You ungrateful brat! We wasted our lives raising you! What’s wrong with me wanting a son to carry on the family name? You’re the older sister! It’s your duty to help your brother! It’s the law of nature!"

I threw my hands up in surrender. "The only way I'll help him is by preventing him from being born in the first place."

"This family is living paycheck to paycheck. You two don't even have a 401(k). Bringing another child into this world is just cruel."

Seeing that threats weren't working, my mother switched tactics instantly. She clutched her still-flat stomach, her eyes welling up with crocodile tears.

"Look at me, Cassie. I'm not young anymore. This baby is already four months along, I can feel it moving. And you know an abortion is hard on the body… Can't you have a little sympathy for your own mother?"

"Sympathy?"

I let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.

"When you two were having your fun, did you think about how 'hard on the body' it would be? You didn't even use protection, and now that you've made your mess, you want me to feel sorry for you? You deal with the consequences of your own actions. Don't you dare try to guilt-trip me."

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