I Stole My Brother’s Destiny

Peter's gaze dropped to my clothes again.

He hadn't looked closely before. He only noticed how thin they were.

Now that he really took a good look, he saw they weren't just thin. They didn't even fit me. The sleeves were too short, the hem barely reaching where it should.

His expression darkened.

He had thought pretty highly of Joe, thinking the latter was young, capable, and promising. But what the hell was this?

"This is ridiculous. Leaving his post is bad enough, but over a jacket? How much could that even cost? He's got money for fireworks, but not enough to get you something to wear? Come on. You're coming back with me. I've got a granddaughter about your age. You can change into something warm first. Don't catch a cold."

I couldn't really refuse, so I followed him back to the compound.

Once Peter's wife, Sarah Howell, heard what happened, her face softened with sympathy. She brought me a set of thick clothes and made me a steaming bowl of chicken soup.

But I had been out in the cold too long, and I had never exactly been well-fed growing up.

My head felt heavy, my face burning. When they checked my temperature, it was already at 102.2°F.

Peter looked even more uneasy. He immediately called for the driver.

"Ben, get the car. We're heading to the hospital. And go find that damn kid, Joe. Tell him his sister's sick."

Ben Newton nodded quickly and drove us over.

By then, I was barely conscious. Even the doctor looked startled when he saw me and couldn't help snapping at Peter.

"Why didn't you bring her in sooner? Does her family even care?"

Peter, who usually carried himself like steel, could only give an awkward smile and ask the doctor to take good care of me.

Half asleep, I caught pieces of his conversation with Sarah.

"This kid's been through a lot. She saved my life. We should look out for her from now on."

"I was thinking the same. She's about the same age as my granddaughter, Thea, but look at her! She's as skinny as a stick. You can tell she's not treated well at home. Your guard eats like a grown man, but he's so cold to his own sister."

"I didn't expect him to be like this, either. And he's even left his post. If it weren't for Maegan, I might not have made it out of that river."

There was a trace of fear in Peter's voice, and whatever good impression he had of Joe was fading fast.

When Ben came back alone, Peter's face turned dark. He nearly slammed the glass in his hand onto the table.

"Where is he? Where the hell did he go?"

Ben glanced at me on the bed, something like pity in his eyes. He hesitated.

"Mr. Castro didn't come. Said he's busy."

Peter's brows drew tight. "Busy with what? He can't even spare a minute?"

I struggled to sit up, my voice low. "He's probably with Felicity."

"This is unbelievable! You're burning up like this, and he's out there having fun? Ben, did you tell him how serious it is?"

Ben let out a sigh, clearly uncomfortable. He didn't know how to repeat what had been said.

Peter caught on right away, and his voice turned sharp. "Say it. What the hell did he say?"

Ben replied, "He said… Unless Ms. Maegan is dead, don't bother him."

For a second, Peter just stared, as if he couldn't believe what he had heard.

Don't bother him unless she was dead? What kind of brother would say something like that?

Peter turned to look at me. My face was pale and flushed with fever, but my expression was completely blank, as if I had already gotten used to it.

Something in both his and Sarah's expressions softened.

Peter let out a cold huff and slammed his hand against the table.

"Hah! Very well. Go again. Tell him I'm the one calling him this time. If he won't come for his sister, let's see if he ignores me, too."

Ben had no choice but to head out again.

The room fell quiet.

After a long time, Sarah spoke gently.

"Mae… Can I call you that? What exactly is going on between you and Joe?"