Betrayed By Three Brothers Saved By Amnesia

The harsh fluorescent light bled through the thick gauze taped over my right eye. I lay frozen on the stiff mattress, the rough hospital blanket pulled to my chest. My left hand gripped the metal bedrail.

The room door stood an inch ajar.

"Chloe said the priest gave her those memorial medals when she prayed at the cathedral," Julian said. His rich, warm chuckle echoed in the quiet hallway. "She told me he blessed them specifically for her. They look so good on her."

I squeezed my working eye shut. The skin around my left temple throbbed.

"Sophie is just being impossible again," Marcus replied, letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh. "Elias told me he scolded her on the phone yesterday. She actually dared to fake an illness and hang up on him."

"A fake brain tumor," Julian scoffed. "Right on Chloe's birthday. It's sick."

My throat tightened, burning as if I had swallowed dry sand. I turned my head slightly toward the crack in the door.

"She always pulls these stunts," Marcus continued. His leather shoes scraped against the linoleum floor. "Just like three years ago."

"You mean when she threw Mom's emerald necklace away?" Julian asked, his tone hardening. "And then she stood out on the rainy balcony for two hours just to make Elias look like a monster for punishing her."

My fingernails dug into the plastic call button resting beside my pillow.

Three years ago, Chloe had broken the clasp on that necklace and dropped it down a storm drain. I took the blame so Elias wouldn't yell at his new favorite sister. Elias locked me on that freezing balcony while the rain soaked through my clothes.

Now, in their minds, I was the villain who orchestrated the entire thing.

"It's pure manipulation," Marcus said. "Just like last year. She dumped five million dollars from her trust fund into my failing company accounts, then acted like my savior. She always has an ulterior motive."

A hollow, soundless laugh rattled in my chest.

I had liquidated my entire stock portfolio and sold my apartment to get that five million. I did it because Marcus was facing bankruptcy and a federal fraud investigation. I did it to save him from prison.

"I'm just glad Chloe has those medals now," Julian murmured, his voice softening. "I feel safer knowing she's wearing them for my championship race."

The amulets I begged for on my bruised knees. The freezing rain I endured at the cathedral gates. All of it erased. All of it credited to Chloe.

"Did you see the way Sophie looked at Chloe's dress last night?" Julian asked. "Pure jealousy."

"Elias is right to keep her away from the party," Marcus replied. "If she shows up, she'll just cause a scene. She hates seeing Chloe happy."

"I told security to block her at the gates if she tries to get into the venue," Julian added. "I won't let her ruin this weekend."

A single tear escaped my left eye, sliding down my cheek and soaking into the white bandage wrapped around my head. I didn't sob. I didn't scream. The crushing grief that should have ripped out of my throat vanished, replaced by a cold, hollow silence.

I pressed my thumb down on the red call button.

A sharp beep echoed in the room.

"Is she awake?" Julian asked from the hall, his voice dropping.

"Let the nurses deal with her," Marcus muttered. "If we go in there, she'll just start crying and demanding apologies. I have a board meeting in an hour."

Their footsteps retreated, fading down the corridor until the silence rushed back in.

They didn't even peek inside. They stood right outside my door, knowing I was admitted to the hospital, and chose to walk away.

The door pushed open entirely. A nurse in blue scrubs hurried inside, her rubber-soled shoes squeaking against the floor. She checked the monitor above my head before looking down at me.

"Ms. Vance," she said, adjusting the IV line taped to my forearm. "Your heart rate spiked. Are you in pain? The doctor said the pressure on your optic nerve might cause severe migraines."

"I need the transfer," I said. My voice cracked, dry and raspy.

The nurse frowned, pulling a pen from her pocket. "Transfer?"

"The medical flight to Switzerland," I told her, forcing myself to sit up. The room spun wildly. Nausea rolled through my stomach, but I gripped the bed sheets to steady myself. "My doctor submitted the Zurich surgical consent form yesterday. I signed it."

"You shouldn't be sitting up," she instructed, pressing a hand gently against my shoulder. "Your brothers are listed as your emergency contacts. Should I call them back? I saw two of them in the hallway just a minute ago."

"No," I snapped. I shoved her hand away. "Do not call them. They are not my family."

The nurse blinked, startled by my sudden hostility. She took a step back, her eyes scanning my pale face.

"I want the flight arranged immediately," I pushed on, throwing my legs over the side of the narrow bed. The cold floor sent a shock through my bare feet. "Call the coordinator. Tell them I am ready."

"Please, get back in bed," she urged, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. "I will check with the floor manager. Just lie down before you hurt yourself."

I slid back onto the mattress, my chest heaving.

The nurse rushed out of the room.

I stared at the blank wall opposite my bed. The gray blur in my right eye had hardened into total darkness. The tumor was growing faster than the initial scans predicted. Without the total resection, I would be dead in three months.

Thirty minutes passed.

The ticking of the wall clock hammered against my eardrums. Every passing second severed another invisible string tying me to the Sterling family. The brothers who had taught me to ride a bike, read me bedtime stories, and fixed my scraped knees were gone. They had died the day Chloe walked into our house.

The door clicked open again.

The nurse returned, carrying a thick metal clipboard. A serious expression tightened her features.

"Ms. Vance," she began, stopping at the foot of my bed. "I spoke with the coordinator. Switzerland confirmed the morning flight. The medical team will arrive at 6:00 AM to prep you for transport."

"Good," I said.

She didn't hand over the clipboard. Instead, she flipped to the second page, her gaze locking onto mine.

"The chief neurosurgeon in Zurich reviewed your latest MRI," she stated, her tone dropping to a clinical, grave register. "The glioblastoma is deeply embedded in your hippocampus. Removing it will save your life, but the collateral damage to the surrounding brain tissue is unavoidable."

"I read the consent form," I replied flatly.

"Then you understand the stakes," she pressed, stepping closer. She held the clipboard out, pointing a pen at a highlighted paragraph. "The surgery has a ninety percent chance of causing permanent memory loss. You will forget your past. You will forget your name. You will forget everyone you have ever known. Are you sure?"

I looked past her, glancing at the empty hallway beyond the door.

Julian and Marcus were gone. Elias had threatened to cut me out of the Sterling family trust. They had stolen my sacrifices, twisted my love into malice, and handed my protective charms to the girl who replaced me.

Forgetting them wasn't a risk.

It was a cure.

"I'm sure," I said.

I snatched the pen from her fingers and dragged the ink across the final transfer authorization line.