My Sister Killed Me for Her Favorite Son

When the memory broke, I was back in the morgue.

Serena's phone rang.

The second she saw the caller ID, the tension in her face melted into something soft.

"Evan? What is it, sweetheart? Missing me already?"

I didn't need to hear his side to know he was pouting in that spoiled, honey-sweet voice that always got him what he wanted.

"Don't forget to stop by St. Mary's and collect Adrian," he said through the speaker. "And I've made up my mind. Catherine's not happening. I still don't trust her, so have him clean this up properly. No loose ends. And about my thesis? You have to handle that. He stole my structure and data, and my advisor still keeps taking his side. Make Adrian admit it to my face, or I swear I'm never getting over it."

That paper had been mine from the first citation to the last line of methodology. I had built it on sleepless nights and bad coffee. Evan stole my drafts, then cried theft first.

Serena never questioned him.

"All right," she said without hesitation. "I'll take care of it. You stay at the manor, don't go anywhere alone, and text me before you leave the house."

She doted on him for another minute before hanging up.

Then she took off her mask, and the softness vanished.

Miles was still standing nearby, frowning. "I'm serious, Serena. Something feels off. Adrian's been missing for days. I called him again. Nothing."

He hesitated. "Maybe you should try. He'd probably pick up for you."

Serena didn't even think about it.

"I don't have time."

She tossed the words out flat and cold. "He loves attention. Odds are he's sulking somewhere because things didn't go his way. I have a homicide on my table. I am not chasing after Adrian's drama."

Miles looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it.

Serena walked back into the autopsy room and started a second examination of my body.

Usually, her hands were steady. This time, when she lifted my left wrist, she froze.

My breath caught with hers.

On the inside of that wrist was a pale crescent scar.

We were children when it happened. Lost in the mountains. I cut myself on a branch, and Serena tore up her little handkerchief to bandage me. She carried me half the way home, crying harder than I was. Back then, she was still soft with me. Back then, she still felt like my sister.

That scar was the one proof I had left that once, a long time ago, she had loved me.

Please, I thought.

Look at it.

Please recognize me.

Her phone rang again.

This time, it was Aunt May.

"Serena, honey, is Adrian with you? He hasn't answered me in days, and I'm starting to worry."

After our parents died, Aunt May was the only one who still slipped me hot meals, folded bills, and quiet kindness when no one was looking.

Serena only frowned.

"Aunt May, spare me. Adrian’s been out of line for a while now. He doesn’t respect anybody."

There was a pause on the other end, then Aunt May said gently, "You two are brother and sister. Talk to him instead of fighting. That boy knows your stomach acts up. He went and got certified in nutrition just so he could cook things you could actually eat. Evan may live there, but Adrian is your brother—"

"Enough."

Serena cut her off so sharply even I flinched.

"Do not compare Adrian to Evan. Adrian is manipulative. He lies. And now he's pulling another disappearing act. I don't have time for it."

She hung up.

Then, with one impatient glance at my wrist, she peeled off her gloves and stepped away from the table.

That was it. She didn’t recognize me.

Noise erupted outside.

A boy who looked like he couldn't be more than seventeen stumbled into the medical examiner's office, eyes red, face wet with tears.

"Please," he said, voice shaking. "Please help me find my brother. He's been gone for two days. I can't reach him."

Serena's whole expression changed. She stepped forward at once, calm and professional.

"Take a breath," she told him. "Start from the beginning."

He said his brother was all he had. Said his brother worked out of town, and he would never vanish without calling.

I stood there listening, something twisting painfully inside me.

His brother had been missing for two days, and he was frantic.

I'd been gone for four.

My sister thought I was pulling another stunt.