GPS to Home, or to My Death?

After that day, Aubrey absolutely spoiled Brent to no end.

She thought the room Brent designed for the dog didn't look good, so she redrew the plans herself and personally oversaw the renovation.

If she spotted any of my belongings in the house, her expression would immediately darken, and she'd order the housekeeper to throw them out.

Our parents assumed that she'd just been speaking in anger before, but to their surprise, she still never mentioned me even once, even with Christmas fast approaching.

Only I knew that Aubrey had been deeply hurt by those two messages. She was angry.

Regardless, the atmosphere at home got better with each passing day. Brent stopped throwing his fits, and, aside from being a little short-tempered, he no longer threatened suicide.

On Christmas Eve, the whole family gathered to make dinner together. Aubrey specifically cut some lasagna sheets into heart shapes and told everyone that that section of the lasagna was for Brent.

Brent beamed with happiness. "You're so good to me, Aubrey."

"Go watch TV. You don't need to help with this," she said, smiling at him indulgently.

That evening, everyone sat together eating dinner and watching Christmas Eve programming. My parents laughed heartily at the comedy skits, while Brent sat between them, occasionally commenting on which performances were better.

Only Aubrey sat alone on a couch further away, completely distracted, thinking about who knew what.

After a long while, her gaze darkened. As if finally mustering enough courage, she pulled out her phone and clicked on my chat window.

"Merry Christmas".

She typed the words quickly and hit send. But the very next second, a red exclamation mark appeared. She froze. Hurt and disbelief flashed through her eyes.

I let out a sigh. Brent had already used my phone to block her a while ago.

Aubrey's fingers tightened around her phone until her knuckles turned white. Then she tapped the option to send a friend request. When she reached the note section, her gaze grew colder by the second.

"Have you forgotten the kindness the Cochran family showed by raising you? How much money have I spent on you all these years? Fine. Since you don't want this family anymore, let's calculate how much money you actually owe us, then pay back every cent!"

After typing all that, she clicked send, then irritably shoved the phone back into her pocket. But just as she did so, the phone buzzed with a news notification.

Her eyes glanced over the article, and all the color instantly drained from her face.

"Villagers in Maple Hollow unearth an unidentified male corpse. Forensic examiners estimate the time of death was around Thanksgiving. An urgent search for the deceased's family is underway!"

In the accompanying photo, the corpse's face was already half-decomposed.

And it looked exactly like me.