The room smells like medicine… and death.
I lie flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling as if it holds the answer to why my life has turned into a nightmare. My chest feels heavy, like something is sitting on it, pressing down until I can barely breathe.
My throat burns.
I cough, and warm liquid spills into my palm.
Blood.
I sequence my fist, hiding it under the blanket before the maid can see. I'm tired of pity. Tired of the frightened looks. Tired of everyone acting like I'm already gone.
Because maybe I am.
A soft knock comes on the door.
“Madame…” the maid whispers as she enters. “ Happy birthday.”
Her voice is gentle, almost careful, like I might shatter if she speaks too loudly.
Happy birthday.
The words hit me like a slap.
I blink slowly, my lashes wet. Thirty-three years old today.
A birthday I should be celebrating with laughter, gifts and love. Instead, I'm lying in the bed like a dying animal.
Because I am dying.
The doctor said I have only a few months left. A rare disease. Incurable. Slowly destroying me from the inside.
And yet… my husband still refuses me to let me see the best doctors.
My husband.
Marcus Blackwood.
The man I once believed was my soulmate.
The man who now treats me like a burden he can't wait to throw away.
The maid places a small tray on the bedside table. A cup of warm water and two pills.
“ Take your medicine, madame.”
I nod weakly.
She leaves quietly, like she doesn't want to stay in a room where death is waiting.
Silence fills the space again.
Then I hear it.
Footsteps.
Slow. Confident. The sound of heels clicking softly against the marble floor outside my room.
My fingers tightens around the bedsheet.
Only one person walks like that in this house.
The door opens without knocking.
Judy Johnson walks in like she owns the mansion.
She's wearing a red dress that hugs her body perfectly, her lips painted the same. Her hair falls in soft curls, shinning like she just stepped out of a magazine.
She looks like life.
Like health.
Like everything I am not.
She smiles when she sees me.
But it isn't a kind smile. It's the smile of a snake about to bite.
“ Big sister,” she said sweetly. “Oh my God… you look terrible.”
I swallow, forcing myself to sit up a little. My body aches with the movement.
“Judy” I whisper, my voice dry.
She walks closer, her eyes scanning my weak body like she's inspecting a broken toy.
“Thirty-three years old today,” she continues. “ It's sad you won't be able to see thirty-four.”
My stomach twists.
I stare at her, shocked by her cruelty, but she only laughs softly.
“ You know,” she said pulling a chair and sitting beside the bed, “ I used to envy you so much.”
I don't reply.
She leans closer her perfume chocking me.
“You were the perfect granddaughter. Born with a silver spoon, your grandmother gave you everything, but I… I was your shadow who no one saw,” She shakes her head. “ You were the lucky one, you had an affluent family , a perfect husband.”
“But look at you now,” She continues.
Her gaze drops on my pale hands. “ Skinny. Weak. Dying.”
She sights dramatically.
“I guess God finally decided to stop blessing you.”
My nails dig into my palm.
“ Why are you here?” I ask, forcing the words out.
Judy tilts her head.
“To celebrate you, of course.”
She reaches into her handbag and pulls out a small gift box, placing it on my bed like she's being generous.
I stare at it suspiciously. “ What is it?” I ask.
“A gift,” she replies with a smirk. “Open it.”
My fingers tremble as I lift the lid.
Inside is a small mirror.
I freeze.
My reflection stares back at me.
My face pale. My cheeks sunken. My eyes dull, sorrounded by dark circles. My lips are dry and cracked.
I look like a ghost.
Judy chuckles.
“So you don't forget what you look like,” she says. “ A dying woman.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I slam the box shut.
“You're disgusting,” I whisper.
She leans back, laughing like I've told her the funniest joke.
Before I can say another word, the door opens again.
My chest drops.
Marcus walks in.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Perfect suit. Perfect hair.
Perfect everything.
He looks like a king.
My king.
The man I loved for years.
But the moment he enters, his eyes doesn't come to me. They went straight to Judy.
And the way his face softens… the way his lips curves slightly…
It's like he doesn't even remember I exist.
“Marcus,”Judy purrs, standing up.
He closes the door behind him, and right there, infront of my bed, Infront of my sick body, in front of my dying eyes.
He pulls her close.
And kisses her.
Not a quick kiss.
Not a stolen peck.
A deep kiss.
A kiss filled with hunger, possession, and familiarity.
My body goes cold. My lungs refuse to breathe. I watch, frozen, as my husband's hand slides down her waist, squeezing her like she's the only woman that matters.
Judy moans softly.
And I feel my heart break into pieces.
When they finally pull away, Judy turns to me with a smile that drips poison.
“Oops” she says. “Did we forget you were here?”
Marcus finally looks at me. His gaze is empty. Cold. Like am nothing. Like am already dead.
I swallow hard. “Marcus…”
He sights as if my voice annoys him.
“What?” he snaps.
My eyes burn. “It's my birthday.”
He stares at me for a second.
Then he laughs.
A short, mocking laugh.
“Birthday!” He repeats. “ Amanda, you should be grateful you're still breathing.”
Judy walks closer and runs her fingers along Marcus's tie like she's his wife.
“Don't be hard” she says “ After all…it might be her last birthday.”
They both laugh.
I feel sick.
I clutch my blanket tightly, my hands shaking. “Why are you doing this to me?”
Marcus eyes narrow.
“Because you're annoying,” he says plainly. “Because you won't just die quietly.”
The words stab me.
My lips part. “I didn't choose to be sick.”
He leans closer, lowering over me.
“You choose to be weak,” he says. “You choose to become useless.”
I tremble. “Marcus… please. I need a doctor. A better doctor. I can still -”
“Stop.” His voice is sharp. “I'm tired of wasting money on you.”
The words stricks me.
Judy laughs. “You hear that sister? You're too expensive to keep alive.”
I stare at Marcus, my voice breaking. “ That's my money. All of it.”
Marcus scoffs. “You're money was automatically mine, since from the start. You have nothing.”
Tears finally slip down my cheeks.
I hate myself for crying in front of them, but I can't hold it anymore.
Marcus turns away, like my tears disgust him. “Anyways,” he says, adjusting his cufflinks. “I didn't come here to discuss your sickness.”
He reaches for his briefcase and pulls out a thick file.
He throws it on the bed beside me. The file lands with a heavy tud.
I flinch.
“What is this?” I whisper.
“Sign it,” Marcus replies.
I slowly open the file, my eyes scanning the first page. My breath catches.
It's a transfer agreement. My inheritance. My properties. My shares. Some inside businesses I didn't know about - all in my name. Everything my grandmother left for me. Everything I own. He wants me to sign it over to him.
My hands shake violently as I stare at the paper.
“No…” I whisper “No, Marcus. I won't.”
Marcus phone hardens. “You will.”
I look at him, my eyes full of disbelief. “ So this is what you've been waiting for? My death.”
Judy claps her hands mockingly. “Smart girl. She finally understands “
I glare at her. “ You're my sister.”
Judy laughs. “Half sister. Don't forget that.”
Marcus lean closer. His voice drops, deadly calm. “ Amanda, you're dying anyways. What use do you have for money?”
I clench my jaw. “It's mine.”
He smirks. “Not for long.”
I push the file away, with the little strength I have. I walk to the balcony. I need air.
“I won't sign it,” I said, louder now. “Never.”
For a second, Marcus stares at me. Then he nods slowly, like he's disappointed.
“Fine,” he says. “Then I'll make you.”
My blood runs cold.
Judy's smile widens. She steps forward, grabbing my wrist. “ Don't be stubborn,” she hisses. “Just sign it and die peacefully.”
I try to pull away, but she grips me tightly. Pain shoots up my arm.
“Let me go” I cry.
Marcus shoves the pen into my hand.
“Sign!” Judy screams.
I shake my head violently. “No!”
I struggle, but I'm too weak, too sick, too powerless.
Judy slaps me.
The sound echoes through the room.
My cheeks burns. Tears spill again.
Marcus watches with no emotion. No guilt. No love. Nothing.
Judy grabs my hair, pulling my head back painfully. “ Look at you,” she sneers. “ Still acting like you're important.”
I choke on a sob. “ Marcus…” i whisper, desperate. “ Please…”
But Marcus only looks at me like an insect. “Do it,” he say coldly.
I take the pen, signing everything - all my inheritance, assets… everything.
“ It's time to take out the trash,”’ Judy says bringing me back to the balcony as the wind hits me. My whole body begins to shake.
Six floor high.
“ Judy… stop….” I plead.
She leans close to my ear. “ You should die quietly.”
Then she pushes me.
Hard.
My body flies forward.
Time slows.
My scream get stuck in my throat as I stumble over the balcony rail. My fingers claw at the air, searching for something to hold on to.
But there's nothing.
I fall. The sky spins above me. The mansion grows taller. Wind slaps my face. My heart pounds violently as the world rushes upward.
And the last thing I see…
Is Judy leaning over the balcony smiling, and Marcus standing beside her watching, not moving, not trying to save me. Just watching me die.
My eyes widen as the ground comes closer.
Closer.
Closer.
And -
