2 After Dad died on the battlefield, Mom took his survivor benefits and vanished, leaving me and Pathy to fend for ourselves. She dropped out of high school, working God knows how many dead-end jobs before she finally scraped together enough to start her own company. The moment she made real money, she adopted Ethan, another boy who’d lost his father, and brought him into our home. I was against it from the start, but Pathy pleaded with me. "Ethan is just as lost as we were, Patrick. At least you have me. He has nothing." "Just be generous," she'd said. "It's only one more plate at the table." But it was never just one more plate. She treated him better than she'd ever treated me. It was like she was trying to raise a brother all over again, showering him with all the things she couldn't give me when we were poor. Toys, designer clothes, luxury watches. Anything Ethan wanted, he got. In just two years, she’d spent millions on him. That was the money she bled for. How many nights had she been forced to go to client dinners, drinking until she was sick, only to come back to the table and drink more? I hated seeing her waste her hard-earned money like that. I was always telling her to cut back. And for that, Ethan hated me. He hid the watch under my pillow and then ran to Pathy, crying his eyes out, telling her I'd stolen it. Pathy exploded. She made me kneel in the pouring rain, demanding I confess. "How could Dad's son be a thief? He was a soldier! I've built my life on honesty!" she'd screamed, her voice raw with rage. "Who are you learning this from? That mother who took the money and ran?" "Have I ever let you go hungry? Have you ever needed anything? Why would you steal?" I was burning up with a fever, crying, swearing I didn't do it, but she wouldn't listen. The next day, she hired the best lawyer in the city and took me to court. My own sister. Standing on the witness stand, fighting for Ethan, testifying against me. The verdict was three years. I was officially a thief. Before the sentencing, friends, family, even her own lawyer, begged her not to go through with it. I was her brother. Three years in prison would destroy my future. But she was relentless. She was willing to push everyone away to see me locked up. "Patrick won't be destroyed," she'd insisted. "I work this hard for him. Even if he is ruined, I can support him for the rest of his life." "But he stole," she’d said, her voice like ice. "He has to learn his lesson." Every month for three years, she came to visit me. Every month, she’d ask if I was ready to admit I was wrong. And every time, I refused to see her. I’d just have the guard pass on the same message. "I didn't steal anything." After she’d leave, the guard would shake his head with a sigh. "Your sister doesn't believe you, kid." Disappointment, repeated over and over, slowly curdled into a cold, hard despair. I felt like the entire world had abandoned me. I used to have Pathy’s love, at least. Now, I had nothing. Seeing that watch again, something inside me snapped. I swept my arm across the table, sending the box flying. It hit the floor with a loud crack. Ethan stared, stunned into silence. Pathy’s face instantly darkened. "Ethan was being kind, giving you a gift! He’s forgiven you, and this is how you act?" I sat there, trembling, my face pale as a ghost. She grabbed my arm, trying to haul me to my feet. "You think because you're out you can throw a tantrum? Pick up that watch and apologize to Ethan, now!" Apologize? Never. I shoved her away, hard, and bolted out the door. The night air was bitingly cold, but it was nothing compared to the storm of grief and betrayal churning in my chest. I never should have come back. If it wasn't for Dad's things, I wouldn't have set foot in this house. I was done being framed. I was done being hurt. Pathy caught up to me in seconds, her fingers digging into my wrist. Her brows were knitted together in a tight, angry line. "Where do you think you're going? You spent three years in prison and you still haven't learned to control your temper?" I couldn't take it anymore. I ripped my arm from her grasp, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "That watch… was that a peace offering or a poisoned arrow, Pathy? Can you honestly not see the difference?" "I'm your brother!" I yelled, my voice cracking. "You already sent me to hell once, what more do you want from me?" "I'm doing this for your own good!" she shot back, her voice turning cold. "If you do the crime, you do the time. How else are you going to learn? Am I supposed to just stand by and watch you throw your life away?" Her words slammed into my heart like a sledgehammer, leaving a gaping hole. When had I ever stolen anything? What reason could I possibly have to steal a watch from Ethan? Why couldn't she just think for one damn second? Why wouldn't she ever, ever believe me? Tears of frustration finally spilled over, hot against my cold cheeks. The despair of the last three years crashed over me like a tidal wave. I gave up trying to explain. She looked at my shaved head, and her voice softened, as if admitting defeat. "Patrick, everything I do, I do it with you in mind. Yes, you spent three years in jail, but I’ve paved the way for you." "My company… it's all going to be yours one day. This was just a small punishment. It's nothing in the long run." "Come home with me," she pleaded. "Stop running away." She took my hand again, leading me back toward the house. I followed numbly, the fight gone out of me. I didn't say another word. When we walked back in, Ethan’s eyes widened in surprise. He clearly hadn't expected Pathy to bring me back after all that. I just felt drained, exhausted to my very soul. I retreated to my bedroom and didn't come out. Late that night, my door creaked open. It was Ethan. My eyes snapped open in the darkness, but I stayed perfectly still. He thought I was asleep. I watched him feel around under my pillow, his movements furtive as he slipped something beneath it. I didn't move. I didn't say a word. He was so predictable, pulling the same trick the day I got back. This time, I wanted to see. I had to know if Pathy would finally choose to believe me. The next morning, just as I expected, he was in the living room, crying to Pathy that I had stolen his new watch—the replacement for the one I’d supposedly taken before. "Pathy, if he liked it, he just had to ask! I even offered him the old one yesterday, and he threw it on the floor!" he wailed. "Is he just… a kleptomaniac?" Pathy’s face was a thundercloud as she stared at me. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" My heart plummeted into a black abyss. Her words were a final, brutal sword stroke, severing the last thread of family that tied us together. A humorless smile twisted my lips. "No," I said. "I guess I can't." CRACK! The sound of her hand connecting with my cheek echoed in the silent room. The anger and disappointment in her eyes were about to spill over. "How could I have a brother like you!" I was silent for a moment, my cheek stinging. Then, I let out a cold, hollow laugh. "I don't know," I said, my voice dripping with ice. "How could I have a sister like you?" "You—!" She pointed a trembling finger at me, too furious to speak. Before her second slap could land, I dropped to my knees. I bowed my head to the floor, one final gesture. "Thank you for raising me after you dropped out of school," I said, my voice empty. "From now on, I don't have a sister." With that, I stood up, pulled the box with Dad’s things from under the bed, and turned to leave. Her face was grim as she snatched the box from my hands. "These were Dad's. You have no right to take them!" Fine. Let her have them. I just nodded, accepting my fate, and walked toward the door. "You're an ex-con!" she yelled at my back, her voice tight with rage. "What can you do without me? Starve?" I didn't stop. I didn't even slow down. "Don't worry about me."