The Day He Learned the Truth, I Was Already Dead Novel – It had been the fifth year since my brother personally handed me over to traffickers, and I finally clawed my way back from the edge of death. When hunger made my vision swim, I grabbed a smashed cake off the sidewalk and shoveled it into my mouth. My cheeks were still full when a heavy boot slammed into me, and I went down hard. “Sylvia Wilcox! Showing up on Ava’s birthday, are you trying to mess with her again?” The moment our eyes met, I realized who he was.
Brandon Wilcox, my brother, the billionaire who had just thrown a ten-million-dollar birthday party for the “fake heiress,” Ava Wilcox. Looking at my wretched face, his expression remained mocking. “Now you know how nasty the real world is, huh? Good. You earned every bit of it.” “There’s one month left in the five-year term. When it’s up, I’ll bring you home and give you the best life.” “But there’s a condition. Do not hurt Ava again!” I blinked and rubbed at my eyes, and no matter how hard I tried, I still could not make out his face clearly.
And somehow, I laughed. Maybe because other than pain, he had always been a blur in my life. “I won’t,” I whispered. He never had to worry about his precious little sister getting “bullied” again, and I was not going back with him anyway. Stage-four brain cancer meant even one more month was a luxury. … I swallowed the bitter mouthful of cake. I knew he didn’t want to see me, so I did the polite thing and pushed myself up on my bad leg, trying to disappear from his sight as fast as possible.
But the cancer had spread to my eyes, and I genuinely could not see the road. I had to hunch over and feel my way forward with both hands, inch by inch. Then laughter exploded behind me. His buddies were making fun of me. “Look at her. Limping around like a street beggar, trying to make Brandon feel sorry for her so he’ll bring her back early.” “She’ll do anything. No shame at all, and in public too.” “Seriously, Brandon’s the richest guy in the city. She’s embarrassing him.” Brandon’s face tightened.
His expression got darker as he said coldly with smothered anger. “Sylvia Wilcox, one month means one month. Not a day sooner.” “And I told them to go easy on you. At worst you should’ve suffered a little, not ended up looking like this. You’re putting on a show, and it’s disgusting.” I froze. Go easy on me? The memories came back in a slow, sick wave, chewing through my skull, and all I could do was smile and keep moving. I had barely taken two steps when someone blocked me.
“Sylvia, wait!” That voice was familiar enough that I didn’t need to see her face. Ava pressed a perfect, untouched slice of cake into my hand. When she laced her fingers through mine, her nails dug into my skin like hooks. “Today’s my birthday,” she said sweetly. “I don’t blame you for the past anymore. I just hope, when you come back, you’ll get along with me, okay?” The brighter her smile got, the deeper her nails sank, until warm blood seeped out. But I didn’t make a sound, because no one ever cared, and no one ever believed me.
I took the cake and only wished to get away from them. Perhaps that way I could live a little longer. Back under the overpass on my cardboard “bed,” I frantically dug out my nearly expired painkillers, then swallowed them by the handful until the drilling in my head finally dulled. Cold wind screamed through the concrete, and I wrapped my thin jacket tighter around myself. Not long after, a charity truck pulled up at the mouth of the underpass.
A loudspeaker blared. “Temperatures are dropping, and Mr. Wilcox is here to do some good. Come get winter coats and blankets!” Dozens of homeless people lit up like someone had turned on a switch, rushing to line up. Clutching my splitting head, I stood at the very back. When it was finally my turn, the volunteer looked at me, then at the photo on his phone. He flicked his hand like he was shooing a fly. “Go back. Mr. Wilcox personally said you don’t get one.” He clicked his tongue, face twisted with disgust. “Mr. Wilcox is known for being generous.
He helps any homeless person he can. What kind of trash do you have to be for him to single you out like this?” I pressed my lips together. Though I’d seen it coming, it was funny in the worst way. Brandon Wilcox, award-winning “global philanthropist.” He could be kind enough to keep Ava even after learning she was not the real Wilcox’s daughter, and keep giving her the top-tier life money could buy. He could donate across the world and collect applause everywhere he went. But he could not spare his own sister a coat that might keep her alive.