Listening to Adrian's cruel words, I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. His indifference sent a sharp ache through my chest, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up and spilling over. In Adrian’s eyes, I had never truly been family—just an outsider, a shadow to the sister he cherished. Perhaps that’s why I hadn’t gone to heaven yet—because I was still unreconciled with my death.
As the painful memories resurfaced, my heart ached. I thought about all the times I had been pushed aside, cast in Madilyn’s shadow.
I remembered watching Adrian as he gently comforted Madilyn during her blood test. She had always been terrified of needles, and Adrian had shielded her, covering her eyes as if protecting her from the smallest pain. That tenderness, that care—it was something I had never received.
From the moment I was brought home, the Monticellos believed I was their long-lost daughter because I resembled their mother. But Adrian never saw me that way. To him, my sun-kissed skin and hardened demeanor were proof I didn’t belong in their world of perfection.
He didn’t believe I was his sister. He couldn’t accept that I had been raised in poverty, in a life that had left me rough around the edges. So he dragged me in front of the entire family, demanding a DNA test to prove I wasn’t one of them.
When the results confirmed I was his sister, I had hoped for some acknowledgment, maybe even an apology. But instead, Adrian tore the results apart right in front of me. His face twisted with anger as he spat, “Aliyah, don’t think this piece of paper changes anything. You’ll never replace Maddy. You better know your place.”
Those words had cut deeper than anything else. I had come home to the family I was meant to belong to, only to find I would always be second to Madilyn. Even in my own home, I was told to stay in line.
Across from me, Tristan tossed his phone aside, his face a mask of barely contained rage. His sorrowful eyes glistened with unshed tears, and it pained me to see him like this. He had always been gentle and kind—the one person who treated me like I mattered.
Reaching out, I gently wiped away the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. I didn’t want him to be sad because of me. Tristan was like the sun—bright, warm, full of light. He was meant to shine, not be weighed down by the darkness of my existence.