My Brother Left Me to Die Twice

The night my parents were kidnapped, my brother, a cop, was on his way to take the girl who replaced me bungee jumping.

I didnt try to stop him. I just hung up, called the police, and started arranging the ransom.

In my last life, Ethan blew off the fake-tress to save our parents. The bungee cord snapped. She fell into the canyon, and they never even found her body.

Afterward, my brother said nothing. Not a word.

Then, on my birthday, he drugged me and drove me to that same canyon overlook.

"You planned the kidnapping," hed hissed, his face a mask of cold fury. "All of this, just to get their attention. You're a monster."

"Sophie's gone. Now you can be, too."

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the kidnapping.

Only this time, Ethan wasnt running a rescue. He was running to her.

And later, he would be ripped apart by a regret so profound it would nearly drive him insane.

1

My eyes snapped open, my forehead slick with sweat. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs, threatening to shatter my chest. The phantom sensation of falling still clung to me, a cold dread that only began to recede as the familiar floral wallpaper of my bedroom swam into focus.

I glanced at the clock.

I was back. Reborn.

It was the day my parents were taken. In five minutes, the kidnapper would call, demanding an impossible sum within the hour, or they would be executed.

I am Paige Sinclair, the daughter who was lost for eighteen years. Id been back in my parents arms for less than a year, and they had become my entire world. I couldn't let the tragedy of my first life happen again. Not this time.

I flew downstairs and planted myself by the landline, my police-officer brother, Ethan, following close behind in his tactical jacket and cargo pants.

"Paige, who are you putting on this little show for? Mom and Dad aren't even here," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "Weren't you the one who arranged for their 'kidnapping'?"

A sliver of ice slid down my spine. In that single, mocking smile, I knew.

He remembered, too.

His expression was a cold, clear message: Don't bother fighting it. It's useless. Without him playing along, my "little drama" would be over before it began. Last time, he was convinced Id masterminded the entire thinga desperate, pathetic ploy for the attention I felt I was losing to Sophie. I never understood how hed reached such an insane conclusion.

This time, he was simply choosing to sidestep my "trap" altogether.

"Paige, let me give you some brotherly advice," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "Conspiracy is still a crime. When you end up behind bars, don't come crying to me to pull you out."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the shrill, insistent ring of the telephone cut me off. Each ring was a needleprick to my heart.

Ethan acted as if he didn't hear it. As he turned to leave, a flicker of contempt crossed his face.

"Go ahead, play your games. I'm going to take Sophie to Eagle's Peak." He paused, his hand on the doorknob. "They're not in any real danger, so don't bother calling me."

That wasn't what he said last time.

In my first life, Ethan had used his years of detective skills to pinpoint the kidnappers' location in record time. He'd brought our parents back, shaken but unharmed, in just over an hour. I was so consumed with their safety that I completely missed the suspicion and rage simmering behind his eyes.

I only understood when he had me dangling over the edge of that cliff.

He told me then that during the rescue, Sophiethe girl my parents had adopted to fill the void Id lefthad called him over and over. He didn't answer. So she went bungee jumping alone. And the cord failed.

Now, the phone's ringing was a relentless death knell. I snatched the receiver, and the kidnapper's voice, gravelly and distorted, filled my ear.

"Five million dollars. You have two hours to get it ready. Or your parents die."

My eyes widened in terror.

What? Last time, it was only two million.

2

My hand tightened on the receiver, a cold sweat beading on my skin. It seemed this new reality wasn't an exact copy. If the ransom was different, the kidnappers' location might be, too. My confidence shattered, and a raw panic began to set in.

"Can you give me a little more time? I..." I pleaded, my voice cracking.

The line went dead.

I slammed the phone down, forcing my emotions back into a box. I knew weakness was useless against men like this. The priority was the money and the location.

My hand trembled as I scribbled down what I remembered from last time. Two kidnappers, both young men. The location was one of their apartments. The drop-off was two million dollars in a duffel bag, left in the third trash can outside the south entrance of the train station. Ethan had busted them before they could even collect it. Money safe, parents safe.

With that thought, I grabbed my cell and dialed 911. Then, I called my father's closest friend and business partner, Marcus.

"Marcus, it's Paige. They have my parents," I choked out. "The kidnappers"

"I'm on it, Paige," he said, his own voice tight with alarm. "Call the police. I'll handle the cash."

A tiny sliver of stability returned to my world. Two minutes later, a patrol car pulled up. But when the door opened, my heart sank. It was my brother's partner and best friend, Ryan. He walked in without a hint of urgency, his expression soured.

"Paige, Ethan just called me. Lucky I was in the area," he began, not even trying to hide his annoyance. "You know filing a false report is a felony, right?"

In that single moment, all my courage, all my hope, collapsed. Ethan, so certain of my guilt, had dispatched his best friend to shut down my "hysterical little game." Without the police, without a trained detective to analyze the situation, how could I possibly win?

The note in my hand, filled with clues, crumpled into a tight ball. The image of my parents, terrified and at the mercy of violent men, flooded my mind, and a sob tore from my throat.

"Officer Ryan, I'm not lying," I cried, the words tumbling out between gasps. "I'm an adult. I'll take full responsibility for my actions. Please, I need your help. I need you to help me save my parents!"

I was hyperventilating, my eyes darting to the clock on the wall. Nearly ten minutes had passed. Time was slipping away.

Ryan leaned back on the sofa, casually scrolling through his phone as if I were a mildly interesting television show. My tears didn't seem to move him in the slightest.

"They say kids who grow up in the system get real cunning," he said with a sigh. "You think turning on the waterworks is going to manipulate me?" He shook his head. "Ethan was right. You can't raise a kid for a few years and expect them to be family. Their heart's just not in it." He paused. "Sophie is so much more mature than you."

Sophie. My replacement. Taken in by my parents at eight years old, raised like a precious jewel. My brothers devotion to her was almost pathological; even after they were both adults, they still sometimes slept in the same bed, curled up together.

The ticking of the clock pulled me back. I forced down the wave of rage and despair, compelling myself into a state of cold calm.

"Ryan," I said, my voice level and firm, making him look up. "You responded to a 911 call. You are obligated to investigate my report."

A cruel, mocking laugh escaped him. "Oh, a real little princess, aren't you? Think just because you're a Sinclair now, you can order everyone around? You're still just an outsider in this house."

His words were like shards of ice in my veins.

"Ethan told me everything," he continued, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and taking a loud bite. "He said Mom and Dad don't even love you that much. They're always mixing up your name with Sophie's. He said you schemed and plotted to get attention until Sophie couldn't take it anymore and had to move out."

I knew these weren't his own observations. They were poison, dripped into his ear by my brother over months. In their eyes, I was nothing more than a manipulative, jealous shrew.

I stood before him, my own feelings irrelevant. "What will it take for you to believe me? My parents are in mortal danger. If we miss the window to save them, can you live with that responsibility?"

Ryan's hand froze mid-air. He pushed himself up from the sofa. "Go ahead and report me, then. A spoiled little brat like you needs to learn a lesson..."

He never finished the sentence. Two uniformed officers were standing in the open doorway.

"We're looking for Paige Sinclair? We received a report of a kidnapping."

My legs gave out, and I nearly crumpled to the floor.

Finally. My parents had a chance.

3

Ryan's face paled. He immediately shifted gears, walking over to the officers with an outstretched hand. "Hey, fellas. I'm a colleague. Just came by to check on Ethan's sister."

It was only then that I noticed Ryan was in his street clothes. He'd come here off-duty. As the officers stepped inside, he tried to slip past them, but one of them calmly blocked his path.

I hurried forward. "Officers! My parents have been kidnapped. I have a recording!"

I had instinctively recorded the call on my phone. The moment the distorted, menacing voice filled the room, the color drained completely from Ryan's face.

"But Ethan said... he said it was an actor," he stammered. "He told me this was all a performance you staged."

I shot him a withering look, too exhausted to waste another word on him. I carefully smoothed out the crumpled piece of paper in my hand. Rummaging through the hazy, fragmented memories of my past life, I tried to grasp the smaller details. I pieced them together in my mind until I found a plausible way to present the information I had.

"Officers," I said, my voice gaining strength. "I think I can provide information on the suspects. I saw two men hanging around the neighborhood recently. Their voices... they sound very similar. They asked me for directions once. I can't be one hundred percent sure, but..."

It was enough. A sketch artist was brought in, and monitoring equipment was set up on the phone line. I focused all my energy on describing the two kidnappers' faces. The sketches were cross-referenced with a database of individuals with prior offenses, and we got a hit. Two young men with a history of robbery. One of them had rented an apartment under his real name. A tactical team was immediately dispatched.

I sank onto the sofa, feeling as if I'd been pulled from a frozen lake. My clothes were soaked through with cold sweat.

Twenty minutes later, one of the officers who had stayed with me received an update on his radio. He turned to me, his expression grim.

"Paige... I'm sorry. Your parents weren't at the location." His voice softened. "But we did find this."

He showed me a picture on his phone. The kidnappers' apartment was wallpapered with surveillance photos. Photos of my parents, and photos of me.

"They've been planning this for a long time," the officer said gently. "Don't worry. These two won't get far."

My mind felt like it was about to short-circuit. My worst fear had come true. They had moved my parents. My intel was useless.

Across the room, Ryan was on the phone with my brother. He was trying to keep his voice down, but I heard every word.

"It's real, Ethan. It's a real kidnapping. They have suspects. You need to get back here now."

I heard Ethan laugh on the other end of the line, the sound tinny but clear. He was speaking loud enough for me to hear.

"Just stop, Paige. The bigger the lie, the harder you'll fall. When Mom and Dad have to disown you to save face, don't come crying to me."

The terror and resentment of my past life surged through me. Even if he hated me, the sister he'd only just gotten back, how could he refuse to believe his own partner? I had done nothing wrong. Our parents had done nothing wrong. The son they had loved and nurtured for over twenty years was, at this very moment, choosing a day of fun with his surrogate sister over their lives.

If they knew, their hearts would break. I ached for them.

As I wiped a tear from my eye, the landline screamed again. The officer in charge of the wiretap caught my eye and gave me a subtle nod.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

The kidnappers were calling back.

4

The officer gave me a thumbs-up. My hand was trembling so violently I could barely hold the receiver. One of his colleagues held up a small whiteboard.

STALL FOR TIME

I took a shaky breath. The words still came out as a sob. "I'm getting the money. Please, I'm begging you, don't hurt my parents."

A harsh laugh crackled through the line. "Then move faster! You've got one hour left. When time's up, so are they."

The officer scribbled on the board again.

"Where do I bring the money? And how do I know my parents will be safe?"

The man's impatience was palpable. "Leave the money in a locker at the main bus terminal. Don't worry about your parents. The money shows up, they show up. Simple."

My temples throbbed. The drop-off location was different, too. I kept talking, trying to give the tech team more time to get a trace.

"Are they okay? Can I please just hear their voices?"

He swore under his breath. "You're a real piece of work." A moment later, I heard the muffled, terrified voices of my parents.

"Paige," my mother cried, "finding you again was the greatest gift of our lives. We have no regrets."

"Don't you risk anything for us," my father added, his voice strained. "You just take care of yourself."

"Paige, I need you to know," my mother's voice broke, "we love you more than you can ever imagine. We wanted to make up for everything... we just didn't know how."

My father's older, weaker voice came through. "Honey, I'm so sorry I lost you at the park all those years ago. If I ever get the chance, I'll spend the rest of my life apologizing to your face."

Tears streamed down my face. I opened my mouth to tell them I didn't need apologies, I just needed them to be safe, to hang on, that I would save them

The kidnapper cut them off. I heard a dull thud, as if he'd kicked someone, followed by a stream of curses.

"Enough of this rich-people-crying bullshit! Get the money there, or I can't guarantee your parents will come home in one piece."

The line went dead.

Every officer in the room looked at me, then shook their heads. No trace. The kidnappers were using sophisticated tech to block their location.

My anxiety exploded into full-blown terror. The money had to be delivered. It was the only thing keeping my parents alive. I frantically redialed Marcus, the man who had promised to get the cash.

The call wouldn't go through. It went straight to voicemail, over and over.

On my tenth try, my cell phone rang. It was Ethan. His laughter echoed in my ear.

"Had enough of your little play yet? It's time for the curtain call."

A cold dread washed over me. "What did you say to Marcus?"

Ethan's voice was breezy, unconcerned. "The truth, of course. I told him not to give you a dime. Five million dollars? That's a steep price for a little stunt, even for you. I told him you were just trying to drain the family fortune the second you got back in the door. He's not going to call you back."

In that instant, my world fell away. I was a balloon that had been pricked, all hope hissing out of me. Without that money, my parents had no chance of survival. I remembered the case file from my last life. The two kidnappers already had blood on their hands. They wouldn't hesitate to kill again.

If the money didn't arrive, they would murder my parents.

The landline shrieked again. The kidnapper's voice was a razor's edge against my heart.

"Time's almost up. You don't bring the money now, I kill them both. Right now!"

5

An invisible hand clamped down on my heart, squeezing the air from my lungs. Sweat dripped from my forehead into my eyes. The ticking of the clock was a hammer blow, each second an eternity.

I grabbed the receiver, my lips trembling as I spoke.

"The time's not up yet. We're getting the cash from different banks," I lied, my voice shaking. "It's a lot of money to withdraw at once. It takes time."

The kidnapper snorted. "The Sinclair family? Don't have that kind of cash lying around? Don't bullshit me."

I held my breath, terrified of saying the wrong thing. In the brief, crackling silence that followed, I heard ita faint but familiar sound in the background. The mournful wail of a train whistle.

The officer monitoring the call heard it too. He gestured frantically for me to keep him on the line.

"Let me hear their voices again," I demanded, trying to sound stronger than I felt. "I need to know they're still safe."

The kidnapper's anger flared. "Who do you think you are, some goddamn queen? Everyone has to do what you say?" A pause. "Last thirty minutes. If I don't see the money, you'll never see your parents again."

He hung up. Thirty minutes. He'd cut the time. Arguing with a man like that was pointless.

The room erupted into controlled chaos as officers began coordinating with banks to expedite a cash withdrawal. But I was frozen, my mind replaying the last few seconds of the call. I was sure of it. That sound. The ghostly echo of wind rushing through a narrow space.

I grabbed the arm of the listening technician. "Play back the recording! The last few seconds, now!"

Startled by my intensity, everyone paused. The technician complied, isolating the end of the call. And then they all heard it: a low, eerie howl, like the moan of a ghost, just before the line went dead.

I shot to my feet.

"I know where my parents are."

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